By Jay Squires
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.
CHARACTERS:
Cornelius Plumb: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12, in an era when little was known about autism, and one diagnosed as such was generally institutionalized. While he is highly dysfunctional on the social level, he is intellectually far advanced over his classmates, most of whom ignore him, but some of whom bully him and treat him unmercifully. When he speaks, it is in a clipped, non-fluid manner, but the content of his speech is generally uncensored. He is uncommonly handsome for a 12-year-old, well-groomed, and well-dressed.
Cililla Queez: An apparent product of Cornelius’ mind, there to guide him through a rough emotional patch. Only Cornelius can see Cililla. And while they are able to converse openly with each other, no one else is privy to these conversations. [This is accomplished by fading into shadow all but the two, who are in full light.]
Mr. Hiney: 8th-grade teacher. A real sleaze whose wandering eyes reveal an interest in what’s going on beneath the young girls’ desks. The students generally know what’s going on, and occasionally some of the girls test their theories.
SETTING:
An early 1950s 8th-grade classroom. A prominence of charts and pictures of branches of government, portraits of presidents, and historical figures populate the walls. A large teacher’s desk, metal-skirted on the sides and front, sits CENTERSTAGE, right, and faces left. Neat stacks of books and papers are on the desk. Traditional 1950s students’ desks with lift-up tops and book storage compartments beneath, are in the usual rows facing the teacher’s desk and extend back to stage left. The exit door is UPSTAGE right. An oversized clock is above the door. [Remember this is from the actors’ perspective, not the audience’s. To the latter, what’s given as left is right, upstage is, to them, downstage. That’s “theater” tradition.]
AT RISE:
Students are chatting with one other animatedly, while MR. HINEY’S eyes wander the room, anchoring at times under some of the girls’ desktops. He looks at his watch and raps on his desk for order. Most respond. A few boys continue their conversations in the rear. They are looking covertly at CORNELIUS and whispering.
MR. HINEY:
(Calmly, without looking at his intended targets, speaking evenly)
Mr. Jones. Mr. Delaney. Please confine your chatter to the playground.
(Waits until order is restored. He stands and addresses the class as he strolls up one row and down the next, touching a desk now and again.)
Class… I’m afraid most of you aren’t taking the matter seriously enough. Forty-two school days remain until summer break. Thirty-five days remain until that day when each one of you sits at your desk—it will be a Friday morning—and your little hearts will be pounding under your little blouses and, you fellas, under your sweaty t-shirts—and do you know why class?
(A few mutter, “Constitution Day …”)
(At some point during MR. HINEY’S address to the class, the door opens and a very confident and unselfconscious CILILLA QUEEZ enters. She appears to be the age of the other girls, if a bit more physically developed. She is wearing a quite short (for the times) skirt, cut three inches above her knees, compared to the other girls’ skirts, which are required to be below the knees. No one, except CORNELIUS, notices her. She passes by the teacher’s desk and makes her way to the occupied desk in the row to CORNELIUS’ right and directly across from him. She slides onto the desktop and stares curiously at CORNELIUS. The little girl who occupies that desk looks straight ahead, as if she is staring through CILILLA. CORNELIUS is clearly agitated. He keeps his eyes averted from hers. His breathing is loud.)
MR. HINEY [continued]
(Turning to CORNELIUS)
Mr. Plumb … are you quite all right?
CORNELIUS:
(Blinking, looking straight ahead)
Mr. Plumb … is … quite … all right.
MR. HINEY:
Excellent! Then I may proceed?
CORNELIUS:
(Clearly confused)
Yes …
(His words are attended by general tittering in the classroom.)
MR. HINEY:
That’s quite enough, class …. Thank you, Cornelius. I shall proceed. So … yes, Constitution Day! That Friday, you will be expected to pass the Constitution test. To fail the test means you will repeat the eighth grade. Do you understand that, class? You will repeat the eighth grade.
(He continues strolling up and down the rows, touching desks.)
Multiple-choice, short answer, true-and-false. After you turn in your 250- response answer sheet and leave the classroom, I suspect that weekend will be the longest in your young lives. That weekend will be followed by Shock Monday, during which the school will be closed, but the names of those who will be continuing on to high school will be posted on the classroom door. If you see your name on that list … I’m sure you will enjoy your extra day away from school.
(A very long dramatic pause, as he gathers the eyes of all students)
If, on the other hand, your name is not on that list—
[Stepping away from the play with a little stage direction: The moment CILILLA QUEEZ speaks, all other speech is interrupted, sinking into a kind of suspended animation. Simultaneously, all but CILILLA QUEEZ and CORNELIUS go into shadow, while a circle of light surrounds the two.]
CILILLA QUEEZ:
(In full voice, staring directly at CORNELIUS)
Cornelius Plumb … My name is Cililla Queez.
CORNELIUS:
(Rattled by her voice, blinking, avoiding her eyes. As he speaks the rest of the classroom returns to full stage light.)
Do not … talk. Mr. Hiney … is … talking.
(Scattered, partially subdued laughter, stopping when Mr. Hiney speaks.)
MR. HINEY:
(Glancing, confused, at CORNELIUS, regains composure.)
Yes. Thank you for telling them, Cornelius. So … if your name is not on that list, I can only imagine the gnashing of teeth and the beating of … the beating of breasts.
(Accompanied by snickering from some quarters of the room, Mr. Hiney resumes up the row and to his desk where he sits.)
MR. HINEY: [Continued]
Ladies and gentlemen, those who just chittered like a treeful of monkeys at my use of the word breast will probably be the very ones whose names will not be on that list. I suggest if anyone thought the word breast was even worthy of an inward smile—or if the word breast causes you embarrassment or unease—that you occupy your summer break coming to grips not just with your hormonal changes, but with gaining a level of maturity. Of course, if you fail the Constitution test you will have an extra year to raise the level of—
CILILLA QUEEZ:
(All others, save CORNELIUS, are frozen in suspended animation. She speaks to CORNELIUS who is anxiously averting his eyes from hers and in two inches of space above his desk, is tracing the infinity sign, like a recumbent figure- eight, with a little movement of his forefinger.)
Mr. Hiney is a pervert, of course. He thinks his secret is safe. The kids know, though. Some little girls have picked up on his restless eyes and are conducting their own little experiments.
(CORNELIUS squirms, blinks madly, breathes heavily, but does not look at her, and does not speak, remembering the classroom’s laughter a moment earlier.)
CILILLA: [Continued]
You can speak. No one, except me, can hear you now, Cornelius. I am the new director of your drama. You’ve outgrown Pidely-Poo and his pixie dust.
(CORNELIUS jerks his head to her at the mention of PIDELY-POO, but immediately turns away, still terribly confused.)
CILILLA: [Continued]
I know you want to talk to me, Cornelius. But I frighten you. And that’s okay. Just remember, no one can hear us. Just like with Pidely-Poo’s pixie dust, only cleaner. Look at me, Cornelius.
(Cornelius turns, but holds up his palm to block his sight from the indiscreet separation of her legs.)
CILILLA: [Continued]
Ah, you do understand … I had to find out. We’ve got work to do.
(Crosses her legs.)
So … Pidely-Poo served you well from Kindergarten ’til now. In fact, you wouldn’t have survived childhood without him. You know you’re different from the rest of the kids. You speak in a special language with an obscure alphabet that only you and Pidely-Poo knew the subtleties of. Pidely’s only job was to keep you safe from those who were afraid of you and your language they didn’t understand. And that was pretty much everybody. He had to protect you while keeping you in the same social … corral as everyone else. Pidely-Poo did a great job, Cornelius.
(Uncrossing her legs, but keeping her knees together.)
Now you face some special challenges that are beyond what Pidely-Poo could do.
CORNELIUS:
Give me … back … Pidely-Poo.
CILILLA:
There is nothing to give back, Cornelius. I know you miss him, and that change is really hard for you. But Pidely-Poo’s fairy powers worked on you only while you were a child. Things are going on inside you now, Sweetie Pie, that were beyond Pidely-Poo’s grasp.
(CORNELIUS squirms and emits a small moan. Then his eyes close and he visibly relaxes. His head and shoulders begin to replace the movement his forefinger had been making of the infinity sign. He moves in a rhythmic swaying motion, as though keeping time with an unheard inner melody.)
CILILLA: [Continued]
Yes, my dear, lovely Cornelius … this is your language communicating to you. It’s the music that bubbles up from some deep channel within you. Enjoy it with me for a moment. It was Pidley who understood how lovely and dangerous your inner music was. He watched you develop it in private, but before they caged you up in Kindergarten, he taught you how to channel all that musical energy into that ritualized movement of your index finger.
(She slides off the desktop. Standing before CORNELIUS, she grasps his arms and gently urges him to his feet. He is stiff, almost robotic. Guiding him between the desks to an open space beyond the last row, she places his left hand on her waist, his other hand in hers, and they begin to move in a stiff, awkward circle. Their movement is crude and jerky at first, then becomes more fluid as they move about; soon, their bodies are twirling and swaying as one, and CORNELIUS is smiling, his eyes closed in a kind of singular ecstasy.)
CILILLA: [Continued]
(Speaking as they dance)
See? You’re letting me be your instrument, your piano. You are lost in the music you are creating. It’s a beautiful thing because it is just you and your piano.
(She disengages from his arms, and while he continues to circle that portion of the room in self-rapture, she returns to slip back onto the desktop and bobs her head to the imagined melody.)
CILILLA: [Continued]
(In a loud voice)
Cornelius!… Cornelius!
(Stopping with a jolt, CORNELIUS appears disoriented. Then deflated, shoulders sagging, he returns stiffly to his desk. Resumes, after a moment, tracing eternity with his forefinger on his desktop.)
CILILLA: [Continued]
I’m sorry I had to interrupt you. You were having such a lovely time, Cornelius. Just you and your music. Kind of floating out there among the planets. Sorry to crash you back into your earth, but it’s where you belong. It’s where everyone belongs. It’s just a shame you have to stay in the same corral with all the people who don’t understand your music.
(She extends her foot to nudge CORNELIUS’S attention.)
CORNELIUS:
Pidely makes … me laugh.
(He smiles but it is trembly.)
CILILLA:
I know he did, Sweetie. And you need to laugh more. And smile. You have such a glorious smile.
CORNELIUS:
Where’s Pidely-Poo? I … want … Pidely-Poo.
CILILLA:
Pidely-Poo has been sent to help someone who is very young—like you used to be. I’ve been sent to help you now.
CORNELIUS:
I don’t … want you.
CILILLA:
I know you don’t want me, Cornelius. I frighten you. But you need me. You’ll see very soon just how much you need me.
(Sliding off the desk.)
Now I must go, Sweet Cornelius. I’ll be back tomorrow. You’ll learn to like me. I promise. It’ll be fun.
(She turns, makes her way back toward the door. When she gets to MR. HINEY’S desk, she stops and overturns the full glass of water, laying it on its side, and while it drips to the floor, she smiles back mischievously at CORNELIUS. She proceeds on through the door. The moment the door closes, the stage comes into full light, and MR. HINEY and the classroom are reanimated.)
MR. HINEY:
(Confounded upon seeing the flooded desk, he rights the glass, opens a drawer, removes some paper towels, and sops up the water; then, holding up stacks of saturated papers and shaking them, he addresses the class.)
As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, we have a minor disaster here. I want you to proceed quietly out the door, and without talking, make your way to the far side of the playground. Mingle there until the bell rings in five minutes. Then you may go home.
(As the children file out the door, CORNELIUS is the last to approach MR. HINEY’S desk.)
MR. HINEY: [Continued]
Good day, Cornelius. I will see you tomorrow.
(As CORNELIUS passes his desk.)
MR. HINEY: [Continued]
Cornelius?
(CORNELIUS turns, jerkily.)
MR. HINEY: [Continued]
You see things, Cornelius. Things the others don’t see. Isn’t that …?
(CORNELIUS is visibly conflicted, confused, breathes heavily, seems to be suffering through a fit of blinking tics.)
MR. HINEY: [Continued]
I’m sorry … Never mind.
CORNELIUS:
(Turning back from the door)
Mr. … Hiney … Um … Yes.
END OF SCENE ONE
| Author Notes |
Thanks to Jason Rosewell on Unsplash for the photo.
My apologies for the length of this scene. I am largely unfamiliar with the ins and outs of playwrighting. This first scene required some explanation of the spotlighting of Cornelius and Cililla while the rest of the actors are in shadow and suspended animation. In later scenes, I suspect I'll be able to use more of a shorthand explanation. In the meantime *throwing up hands* it is what it is. |
By Jay Squires
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
[Thumbnail sketch of scene one: Introducing Autistic, savant syndrome, 12-year-old, Cornelius Plumb in a classroom setting; here he meets for the first time Cililla Queez, his psychic mentor (whom no one else can see), assigned to guide him through an unsettling puberty in a world that is ignorant of autism (this was early ’50s) and frightened, often hostile, when encountering the unfamiliar.]
CHARACTERS:
Cornelius Plumb: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12, in an era when little was know about autism, and one diagnosed as having autism was generally institutionalized. He is uncommonly handsome for a 12-year-old, well-groomed, well-dressed. When he speaks, it is in a clipped, non-fluid manner, with a. beat. between. each. word. The content of his speech is generally uncensored. He speaks without any thought to its effect.
Toloache [Pron: Toh-loh-AH-chee] Plumb: Cornelius’s mother; former off-Broadway actress and bit player in daytime soaps, she now owns a small, borderline-successful acting studio. She glows with love for her son and protects him with much the same fierce devotion and duty as a knight would protect his kingdom.
Howard Plumb: Cornelius’s father; Enormously successful founder and C.E.O of a Fortune 500 company. Highly intelligent, he is emotionally distant from his wife and entirely dismissive of his son. He recognizes his wife as a social asset and Cornelius as an embarrassment and a social detriment.
SETTING:
Plumb family livingroom. Opulent. Furnished more for display and corporate entertainment than for comfort. Long, plush couch, center stage. Behind it, stage left, a large, gleaming grand piano placed at an angle so the audience cannot see the piano keys. Across from the piano, stage right, a door opening to another room.
AT RISE:
TOLOACHE hunches forward on the couch, silently sobbing. CORNELIUS is at the piano but is not playing. He is, instead, glancing first at his mother, then at his father who is pacing back and forth in front of her. CORNELIUS’S glances are jerky and accompanied by nervous facial tics.
TOLOACHE:
They were brutal, Howard, brutal!
(HOWARD slows his pacing to glance briefly, and without emotion, at CORNELIUS, but then resumes pacing.)
TOLOACHE: [Continued]
Would you please sit down, Howard? You make me dizzy trying to follow you.
HOWARD:
(Grunts as he plops onto the couch, not close to his wife, and not looking at her.)
As you wish, Tolo.
TOLOACHE:
(Her hands on either side of her mouth, like she is holding a megaphone. Turning to him in a loud voice.)
Thank you, Howard!
HOWARD:
You needn’t be so dramatic, Tolo. I’m not one of your students.
(Scooches over a few inches closer.)
TOLOACHE:
No, my students have learned the art of faking a little caring.
HOWARD:
(Huffing)
So, tell me how they brutalized him.
TOLOACHE:
Well, did you see him?
(Short laugh)
No, of course, you didn’t.
HOWARD:
You can cut the sarcasm.
(To CORNELIUS)
Come here, boy. Let’s have a look at you.
(CORNELIUS gets off the piano seat and shuffles over to face his father, without looking directly at his face. Fidgets. He has a red abrasion on his cheekbone and chin. The shirt he wore to school that day is torn at the pocket and white skin appears beneath it.)
HOWARD: [CONTINUED]
You’ll survive, boy. Looks like you got caught with your guard down.
(Winks at TOLOACHE, then cocks his head at CORNELIUS)
What’s the other guy look like?
CORNELIUS:
He has … curly hair. He has—
HOWARD:
That’s not what I mean, boy.
CORNELIUS:
He has … curly hair and he has squinty, mean … squint-ee eyes. James is his name. Mr. Hiney calls … him M-M-Mister Delaney.
HOWARD:
(To TOLOACHE)
See? The boy has no clue.
CORNELIUS:
Mr. Delaney hurt me.
HOWARD:
Did you ever consider hurting him back? Were his friends laughing at you? Did you even care?
TOLOACHE:
Howard!
CORNELIUS:
His friends were laughing at me. Yes. His friends. Laughing.
HOWARD:
Yes. Yes. They were laughing at you. Everyone there would have been laughing at you. Boy, don’t you have an ounce of pride?
TOLOACHE:
He’s not a boy, Howard—he’s your boy. Cornelius is your son!
HOWARD:
Your scrapes’ll scab over and heal. You’ll live, Cornelius. Go on back to your piano.
(CORNELIUS glances in the direction of his mother, without eye contact, then shuffles on back to the piano where he sits staring at the keys)
TOLOACHE:
I hope you’re satisfied, Howard. Any pride I tried to nurture in him over the last twelve years, you’ve destroyed in two minutes.
HOWARD:
Face it, Tolo, your … Cornelius shouldn’t have been yours to nurture in the first place. We should have put him in an institution when we first found out.
TOLOACHE:
(As though holding herself back from striking him, she speaks in a kind of muted rage, not wanting to be heard by CORNELIUS.)
Shut up! Just shut up!
HOWARD:
But I’m right. You know I’m right, Tolo. I should never have agreed to let you hold the reins on his future. He should have been institutionalized.
TOLOACHE:
You bastard! Out of sight, out of mind?
HOWARD:
Well … yes, really. Instead, he’s on our minds every single minute of every single day. You don’t think he’s on my mind every day at work?
TOLOACHE:
Work? Fucking work! You … the fucking founder and C.E.O. of a Fortune 500 company and you want me to picture you trudging off to work with a lunchpail in your hand? Work?
HOWARD:
Right! And if I wasn’t bringing home a paycheck in that lunchpail every week, you wouldn’t have the cash for your little payoffs. You wouldn’t have your fifteen-hundred-square-foot acting studio in Beverly Hills. Did you think it was your talent? Huh?
TOLOACHE:
Now you’re just being cruel. And I do have talent.
HOWARD:
Yeah, yeah … Then there’s the boy’s education. And that, my dear Tolo, baffles me. You could have placed him in the most prestigious private school in the City of the Angels. But no! You insisted he matriculates through the city school system. Another of your mysteries. Of course, if you were the wife of a twenty-five-grand-a-year worker, there’s no school who’d accept him. But it’s amazing what a fifty thousand dollar a year charitable grant to the county school administration will do—
TOLOACHE:
Shut up!
HOWARD:
Not to mention the … the less-publicized twenty thou-a-year grant to the boy’s personal alma mater … to help grease his passage. They’ve got a golden collar around their corporate neck … and you, Tolo, hold the leash!
TOLOACHE:
I accept no special favors from the school administration, Howard. How dare you even suggest such a thing!
(Holding out the envelope to him)
If I did, would they send me this letter?
HOWARD:
(Waving it away with a flutter of his fingers)
No, no.
TOLOACHE:
You don’t want to read it.
HOWARD:
Just give the leash a yank.
TOLOACHE:
You really don’t care, do you? The principal has new concerns about our son. He’s asking to see Cornelius and me tomorrow night.
HOWARD:
The principal! Oh, my! Give it two yanks then, and tell him to look in his mailbox for a special bonus.
TOLOACHE:
Asshole! That’s your answer to every problem. Throw more money at it.
(Gathers the letter in her lap and stares at it, tears trailing down her face.)
I’m not interested in god damn power games. I only want what’s best for our child. What more should a mother want?
HOWARD:
(Rising from the couch, and exiting through the door, stage right. Over his shoulder, he says)
Yeah, what more …
| Author Notes | Much gratitude for the photo by Daniel on Upsplash. |
By Jay Squires
| Author Notes |
Much gratitude for the photo by Daniel on Upsplash.
Note: The stage directions are from the Actor's perspective, not the audience's, nor the readers: therefore, everything is reversed: i.e., what the actors perceive as stage right would be perceived as stage left by the audience. |
By Jay Squires
Thumbnail sketch of the last scene: Toalache and Cornelius’s principal, Mr. Hallows, discuss the school’s concerns over the lad. Cornelius is in another room playing Classical piano. The music forms a backdrop to their conversation, which focuses on the contents of a school assignment that raised troubling questions. Reading the paper brings tears to Toloache’s eyes, and the principal (an empath), tears up watching her. Mr. Hallows brings Cornelius into the room … with Cililla Queez in tow. She is seen only by Cornelius (and the audience).
CHARACTERS
Cornelius Plumb: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12.
Toloache [Pron: Toh-loh-AH-chee] Plumb: Cornelius’s mother. Former actress, now a studio-owning acting coach. She is thoroughly devoted to Cornelius.
Mr. Hallows: Dedicated principal of Zachary Taylor Middle School, though soon to be discharged. Age 45. A true empath.
Celilla Queez: An apparent product of Cornelius’s mind, a replacement for Pidely-Poo, and there to transition him through puberty.
SETTING: The principal’s office. Large desk, center stage, facing left. His desktop has a look of controlled clutter. Two-tiered tray with papers hanging over the edge. Several stacks of papers. A box of tissue with a sheet protruding. A Large dictionary, to the side. A chair faces the desk. Another chair sits at the far side of the desk. Centerstage left, on a small circular table, a sizeable ebony Buddha sits. On the floor beside the Buddha table, a white vase holds a lily. Upstage, on the wall, a large cubist, or another modernistic, rendering of Jesus with pierced hands spread. Upstage right, a door.
AT RISE: MR. HALLOWS sits at his desk opposite TOLOACHE. In a chair at the far side of the desk; midway between them, sits CORNELIUS, staring at the floor; he has a red abrasion on his cheekbone and chin. Standing beside, and slightly leaning against Cornelius, is CILILLA QUEEZ, not visible to either MR HALLOWS or TOLOACHE; her hand rests on CORNELIUS’S shoulder.
MR. HALLOWS:
(Appraising CORNELIUS’S face with concern.)
Looks like you hurt your face, Son.
CORNELIUS:
(Darting a glance toward his mother without connecting with her eyes)
Mr. Hallows … is angry.
(Rocking in his chair)
Ohh. Ohh. I am … in trouble now.
TOLOACHE:
No, no, sweetheart, Mr. Hallows isn’t angry with you. You can tell him about your face.
CORNELIUS:
Mr. Hallows called … me to his … office. With—with you. Ohh, we are in trouble now.
MR. HALLOWS:
I’m not angry with you, Son—you or your mother. You’re not in trouble. In fact, this is the first time you’ve been in my office, isn’t it?
(Chuckles, knowingly.)
But it sounds like you’ve heard other kids talk about being called in here.
TOLOACHE:
I’m sorry, sweetheart; I should have explained it to you.
(CORNELIUS’S rocking slows. His body seems to soften to a more relaxed posture)
TOLOACHE (Continues):
No one is angry. But you need to tell him about how you got the scrapes on your face. Tell Mr. Hallows how you got hurt.
CORNELIUS:
His—his friends were … laughing.
MR. HALLOWS:
Whose friends?
CORNELIUS:
Um … Mr. Delaney’s friends … they were laughing … at me.
MR. HALLOWS:
Mr. Delaney? Delaney … Delaney … James. James Delaney?
CORNELIUS:
(Resumes rocking, now more frantically. CILILLA QUEEZ bends down and gives him a peck on the cheek and the rocking slows.)
Mr. Hiney calls … him … Mr. Delaney.
MR. HALLOWS:
(As though to himself)
Of course. Mr. Hiney would. Tell me though son, why were … Mr. Delaney’s friends laughing at you?
CORNELIUS:
Be-because he hurt … he hurt me.
MR. HALLOWS:
Because he hurt you.
CORNELIUS:
I got pushed down and … and I got up … and he pushed me down … and I got up … and then they all laughed at me.
MR. HALLOWS:
(Slowly shaking his head and looking at TOLOACHE, whose eyes are closed, her chin resting on her blouse.)
And do you know why he hurt you?
CORNELIUS:
Because … be-cause I don’t have … an ounce of pride.
TOLOACHE:
(Eyes snap open; she straightens up and stares painfully at MR. HALLOWS.)
Jesus H. Christ! I’m sorry, but those are his father’s words—an ounce of pride! Oh, Christ!
(Reaches out and strokes CORNELIUS’S arm.)
You took his words as gospel—my poor, lovely boy!
(MR. HALLOWS is momentarily overcome by this. His eyes fill to overflowing and he yanks out a tissue and holds it to his eyes.)
CORNELIUS:
Mr. Hallows is … crying. Why is … Mr. Hallows crying?
MR. HALLOWS:
Ohh ... Don’t mind me, Son—I’m just cursed; I’m afraid I wear my heart on my sleeve.
CORNELIUS:
(Registering confusion. Shoots scattered glances.)
Mr. Hallows’ sleeve. His … his sleeve?
(CILILLA, sensing CORNELIUS’S rising confusion in seeing his mother’s anger and MR. HALLOW’S tears, inclines her head to him. [The Stage lights pan in on the two, and TOLOACHE AND MR. HALLOWS go into shadow.])
CILILLA:
You’re okay, Sweetie. Shhhhhhh. Just like Pidely-Poo taught you, let the harmony in. Floooow. That’s right. Floooow. Listen inside you, Cornelius … Sweetie, can you hear your music now? Inside you? Listen.
(CORNELIUS visibly relaxes)
CILILLA (Continues):
That’s right. The music knows. The music knows. Cililla has so much to teach you about grownups. They can cause an awful lot of confusion. So much disharmony. Even when they love you.
CORNELIUS:
Mother loves … Cornelius.
CILILLA:
She does. You can feel her loving you, can’t you? And she’ll always be here to protect you. She’ll always try to keep others from hurting you.
(Scrunches up her face.)
I know it confuses you. Your mother has to protect you against … your father.
CORNELIUS:
Howlword is bad. Howlword makes Mother cry.
CILILLA:
Yes. Yes, he does, Sweetie. Sometimes. Ohhh … There’s so much I need to teach you.
CORNELIUS:
Howlword makes Mother cry.
CILILLA:
And crying makes you sad, doesn’t it?
(CORNELIUS nods vigorously)
CILILLA (Continued):
But you know what, Sweetie? Look at Mr. Hallows there …. He can’t see you. You can look at him.
(CORNELIUS shoots him a glance, then looks down, blinking rapidly)
CILILLA (Continued):
See? Mr. Hallows is crying. He is crying because of something you said. And yet you know you didn’t try to make him cry. You know something else? Mr. Hallows cries when he hears you playing the piano. I know it gets all jumbled up inside you. But crying is not always bad.
(Lightly kissing his cheek)
We’ve got so much work to do, Cornie.
(Pulls away and cocks her head at him)
Pidely-Poo used to call you Cornie. Can I do that, too, Sweetie? Can I call you Cornie?
CORNELIUS:
(With a full smile)
Pidely-Poo used to take Cornie to the-the island of …
(Takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, audibly)
Ahhhhhhh—
CILILLA:
(Interrupting his long exhale.)
I know he did, Sweetie. Just like that. Whenever you were frightened or confused he’d have you take a deep breath, wouldn’t he, and you’d say the island’s name real slow … Ahhhmmm. But don’t do it now, Cornie. Okay? Not now.
(CILILLA bends down and gives CORNELIUS a hug. [The lights come up on all.])
MR. HALLOWS:
I must apologize, Mrs. Plumb, for that emotional display—the board was right, I suppose ….
(Clears his throat)
Now, should I do the honors, or would you rather?
TOLOACHE:
The letter?
MR. HALLOWS:
Yes. Unless you’d rather read it to him at—No, I probably should observe, though.
TOLOACHE:
I’ll read it, Mr. Hal—Mr. Hallows.
(Both glance at CORNELIUS who slowly begins his rocking back and forth. Invisible to MR. HALLOWS and TOLOACHE, but without any change in the lighting, CILILLA whispers something in CORNELIUS’S ear, and his rocking slows. TOLOACHE unfolds the letter in her lap.)
TOLOACHE (Continued):
I’m going to read something you wrote, Darling, in Mrs. Bain’s class. Now, you’re not in trouble. No one is angry. What you wrote was … very lovely, really.
MR. HALLOWS:
It was. Quite lovely, Cornelius. You should be proud of it.
TOLOACHE:
So … so this is the question Mrs. Bain typed at the top of the assignment sheet: “A wise man once said, ‘You are what you think all day long.’ So, when you daydream, what do you think about most? Let your mind take you wherever it wants, as long as it’s true.”
(Studies CORNELIUS a moment)
That's what she wrote, and then you wrote: “Pidely-Poo is Cornelius’s friend. Pidely-Poo says he is Cornelius's brother, but I don’t have a brother and he is only pretending with me. So he is my friend. Pidely-Poo always takes me to his castle whenever I am sad or afraid. He calls it my castle, too, my true home, he says. But I know he is pretending again because I have a home at forty-one-twenty-one Manmour Place, and I live there with my—”
(TOLOACHE’S voice breaks at this moment and she pulls some tissue from the box and holds the wad at each eye socket before she continues.)
“—with my Mother and with Howlword. Pidely-Poo tells me that Howlword was really the King’s brother who lived in our Castle on the island of Awm.”
CORNELIUS:
(Who had been following his Mother’s reading in a state of bliss, his eyes closed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, suddenly opens his eyes …)
No … like this …
(Filling his lungs with air and letting it out audibly)
Ahhhhhhhhhhmmmmm. I … did not know how … how to … write it.
TOLOACHE:
(Speaking through mingled tears and laughter)
I-I see. So, on the Island of Ahhhhhhhhhhmmmmm.
CORNELIUS:
Ahhhhhhhhhhmmmmm.
TOLOACHE:
I’ll just continue then.
(Reads)
“Pidely-Poo tells me that Howlword was really the King’s brother who lived in our Castle on the Island of Awm.”
CORNELIUS:
(Taking over as though he is reading off the page. He speaks with his eyes closed, head down, but articulating with the flow of a seasoned speaker—in stark contrast to his normal, crippled style.)
“Pidely-Poo says Howlword was the King’s evil brother. He was in love with the Queen. He wanted to kill the King and rule the Island of Awm with the Queen as his own. But the King had a mighty band of guards and Howlword had only a small number of followers. Now, Pidely-Poo says he remembers most of this, even though he was only a five or six-year-old Prince. I was merely an infant, in my Mother’s—the queen’s—arms.”
(While CORNELIUS recites his paper from memory, TOLOACHE and MR. HALLOWS exchange glances and share their joint amazement at what they are witnessing.)
CORNELIUS (Continued):
“Although Howlword’s followers were few, their leader was shifty and shrewd. They couldn’t get to the King, but the Queen’s handmaiden was weak and was bribed to allow them access to the Queen’s chambers. There, the evil Howlword and his men stole the Queen away in the night, still clutching Cornelius, her infant, to her.”
(CILILLA moves behind CORNELIUS and begins massaging his shoulders.)
CORNELIUS (Continued):
“Pidily-Poo told me how brokenhearted the King was. He couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t eat. His men searched every part of the land until the King was forced to accept that his loving Queen was forever gone. Meanwhile, all the people of the Kingdom, who adored their King, served him loyally as he slowly regained his strength and continued, though sadly, to rule the great Island of Awm. The King now poured all his attention on Pidely-Poo who heard from the mouth of the King so many loving stories of his mother, that, as he grew to manhood, he never forgot her. But in his heart, he knew he had to leave the Island of Awm and search the world until he found his Mother, the Queen, and his Brother, Cornelius.”
(Suddenly, blinking away the last of the self-confidence he’d been almost magically imbued with—looking momentarily confused—he looks down, and is silent a long grappling moment before he continues reciting, in his more clipped style.)
CORNELIUS (Continued):
“Cornelius. That’s me. Pidely-Poo found me in Mrs. Gracely’s classroom in Kindergarten. And Pidely-Poo stayed with me. He taught me the secret way to return to the Island of Ahhhhhhhhhmmmm—like that. And I did. And I went there with Pidely-Poo. And it was so beautiful and music was everywhere, in the trees, in the waterfalls, in the waves crashing all around the island. So beautiful, the music. And then, one day he was gone. He left me back here. I want Pidely-Poo to come back. I looked for him everywhere on the Island of Ahhhhhhhhhmmmm, but he is gone. What I daydream about most is Pidely-Poo coming back to me. I need Pidely-Poo to help me bring our mother back to the Island of Ahm because I can’t do it myself. But Pidely-Poo doesn’t come back to me. Anyway, that is my daydream. And it is true. Cornelius B. Plumb.”
END OF SCENE FOUR
| Author Notes |
Much gratitude for the photo by Daniel on Upsplash.
Note: The stage directions are from the Actor's perspective, not the audience's, nor the readers: therefore, everything is reversed: i.e., what the actors perceive as stage right would be perceived as stage left by the audience. |
By Jay Squires
Thumbnail sketch of the last scene: Cornelius and his mother meet with the principal, Mr. Hallows, to discuss what the school feels is some disturbing material Cornelius had written for an English writing assignment. The assignment reveals a fantasy life that none had expected.
[NOTE: Please read Author Notes.]
CHARACTERS
Cornelius Plumb: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12. Stunningly attractive, His mother dresses him fashionably and impeccably.
Celilla Queez: An apparent product of Cornelius’ mind, a replacement for his imaginary childhood mentor, Pidely-Poo; she is here to transition him through puberty and adolescence.
James Delaney: Class leader and insufferable bully. Cornelius’s nemesis.
Jennie Jax: Attracted to Cornelius. A classmate, physically not yet blossomed. Kind-hearted, but still a child and swayable.
Classmates: Miscellaneous group from Cornelius’s class, a handful of whom have gravitated to James Delaney. The remainder of the children on the playground are extras, doing kid things.
SETTING: Middle of a typical weathered school basketball court on the outdoor playground at Zachary Taylor Middle School. Up center, basketball pole with the weather-beaten backboard and the downward slanting rim with only the reminder of a net hanging from one side. Upstage an 8-foot-tall green hedge runs from stage left to right.
AT RISE: [The dance of the pecking] Center-court, CORNELIUS is seen slowly turning in a circle, while surrounded by JAMES DELANEY and a handful of boys who are walking in an orbit around him. CORNELIUS’S right forefinger traces the sign of eternity. His eyes are closed, his face etched in fear. His lips move but say nothing. CILILLA, in her short, mini-skirt, watches, grim-faced, leaning against the basketball pole. Circling CORNELIUS, JAMES DELANEY and his lackeys, with almost dancelike, ritualistic precision, step in and give CORNELIUS little jabbing pushes or pinches. All but JAMES accompany this “dance” with grunts and chittering, but no words. Only JAMES is their voice. Also in this group, but more to the outside, JENNIE JAX circles ... Tears stream down her face. Occasionally she moves toward CORNELIUS, hands extended, but then she pulls back, self-consciously.
JAMES DELANEY:
(Slapping CORNELIUS’S moving forefinger, causing his hand to spasm before the finger resumes. JAMES DELANEY’S face is a mask of hatred. Others imitate, but without words and not actually touching CORNELIUS. JENNIE JAX circles too, cheeks glistening, her hands occasionally extending then retracting.)
Yer a funny boy, ain’tcha, huh? Open yer eyes, funny boy … clown! Got yer shoes all shiny fer school ’n everything, don’tcha?…
(Stomps on CORNELIUS’S foot, causing him to stumble, then recover, resuming his turning. JAMES yanks one side of the shirttail from CORNELIUS’S trousers.)
ADULT FEMALE VOICE:
(Over the loudspeaker, in a musical voice, unrelated to any activity on the playground.)
James Delaney … Please report to the office. James Delaney, to the office, please.
JAMES DELANEY:
(Startled, then adopting a confident pose, giving CORNELIUS a last, harder finger-jab than previously.)
Carry on, guys. The school needs my help ’bout somethin’.
(over his shoulder as he leaves.)
I told ’em not to bother me during recess. But you know how that goes…
[EXITS upstage right. For a few moments, the boys continue circling, then one or two at a time, wander off with parting finger jabs. Only JENNIE JAX remains, but she does not approach CORNELIUS, who continues his closed-eyed, slow turning. Meanwhile, CILILLA QUEEZ pushes off the basketball pole she had been leaning against and crosses to CORNELIUS. At that moment, everything goes into shadow, and movement on the playground is frozen … except for CORNELIUS, still turning, AND CILILLA, both of whom are spotlighted.]
CILILLA:
(Laying a hand on his arm, following beside him as he turns)
Cornie … Oh, Cornie …
CORNELIUS:
Cor—neel …
(He stops his spin and opens his eyes, but stares at the ground)
yus.
CILILLA:
You’re angry at Cililla. I’m sorry, Sweetie—
CORNELIUS:
(Turns to face CILILLA, glances at her eyes, then immediately looks away.)
Pidely-Poo …
(Lapses into confused silence.)
CILILLA:
I know, Sweetie. You love Pidely-Poo. And you loved your special, secret place. With the castle and the king, and Pidely-Poo there as your Brother. I know. You loved visiting the ocean and the streams; reaching out and swirling the soft, pink clouds with your fingertips; and lying in the cool green grass beneath the trees with singing birds on their branches, sometimes perching on your finger and ... and tickling you with their wings. It was a happy place, I know.
(A grimace of pain crosses CILILLA’S face.)
But Pidely-Poo’s not there anymore, is he? In fact, Sweetie, you’ve found the magic sound doesn’t work as it did. Huh? Does it?
(CORNELIUS brings his eyes to her for a brief second, blinking.)
CILILLA (Continues):
I know, Cornie. And if you could go back you’d find a different place. No more castle, no king…
(Conflicted.)
Sweetie … Cornie … Um … you tried the Aaahhhmmm just now, didn’t you? When James Delaney and the other kids were being mean to you?
CORNELIUS:
The birds—they—they dropped down. From the limbs. They started pecking at—at Cornelius. Laughing and—and pecking.
CILILLA:
(Wrapping her arms around him.)
Ohhh, you did try, then ... I know, Sweet Cornie. I know, I know.
(She holds him tightly until he visibly relaxes in her arms. Then, after a moment she pulls away ... and almost as an aside, as much to herself as to CORNELIUS ...)
And this is what makes it so hard ….
(With resolve, at arms’ length.)
Sweetie. Sweet Cornelius, for the same reason that Pidely-Poo can never be a part of your life again, I will be powerless to step in and help you when bad things, like today, happen. Can you understand that, Sweetie? There are things you must learn in life by facing them. I will be here, afterward, like I am now, as long as they think I’m needed … to kind of sort out things; do you know what I mean? To help you work with things—and not all of them bad things—but things you must adapt to.
CORNELIUS:
No more—Pidely-Poo? No—no more Aahhmm?
CILILLA:
No Sweetie.
CORNELIUS:
Pidely-Poo—um, Pidely Poo used to—
CILILLA:
Pidely-Poo’s gone. Along with the Castle. Gone. Along with the King. Gone. And the trees, and the birds, and the clouds. All gone. Howlword is not the king’s evil brother. He is your real, true Father, and his name is Howard. There is no castle to take your Mother to, Sweetie. She loves you very, very much, but she belongs where she is …. Cornelius …
[CORNELIUS looks up to her eyes, holds her gaze, though he is blinking, and he uncomfortably rocks back and forth.]
CILILLA (Continues):
Cornelius, you still have a secret place. You do. You’ll find your music to be a lovely secret place. But the joy you feel in your secret place, ah, yes, Cornie, others will feel as well. But you know something else, Cornie?
[CORNELIUS stops rocking, and gazes at CILILLA expectantly.]
CILILLA (Continues):
Something else, my dear, lovely Cornelius …? Your life is about to change in a most challenging way. I’ll be around watching, but you’ll have to deal with a lot of it on your own.
[The lights come on full, and children resume their noisy play just as the long buzzer announces the end of recess. Small knots and larger clusters of children leave the playground, stage right. CILILLA retreats to the basketball pole. CORNELIUS remains with his head jerking here and there, indecisively. JENNIE JAX begins slowly to move toward the classroom, then stops, conflicted, and turns. With her eyes focused on the ground, she returns to CORNELIUS. His eyes seem to dart everywhere else but don’t alight on JENNIE who stands now, a little to the side, but facing him. She lifts a hand, trembling, to his shoulder. He tenses against its slightest pressure and closes his eyes. Rising on the balls of her feet so close she can see the lash of his eye laid against his cheekbone, fluttering, it takes all her concentration to keep her lips still as she presses them lightly to his cheek and instantly pulls back. CORNELIUS’S hand flies up to cover his cheek.]
JENNIE JAX:
We’d … better … shouldn’t we go to class now?
[She takes a few steps, then seeing he’s not with her, returns. Tentatively, she takes his hand. He glances at their clasped hands but doesn’t remove his as they head—CORNELIUS stiffly, and JENNIE fairly bubbling—toward the classroom. Just before exiting, stage right, they unclasp their hands, and JENNIE follows behind.]
END OF SCENE FIVE
| Author Notes |
AUTHOR NOTES:
I SUPPOSE I SHOULD APOLOGIZE to serious playwrights on FanStory for my unusually long and detailed stage directions. I offer no such apology, though I acknowledge with a nod two playwrights/screenwriters here whose experience and expertise tower over mine: I'm speaking, of course, of LANCELLOT and JUDIVERSE, either of whom could teach a course on the subject and both of whom I'm counting on being entirely too kind to throw my obvious shortcomings back in my face. I'm kidding! Again, I don't apologize, even knowing that a director reading my script would stomp on the stage in anger over my taking from him the God-like joy of molding the finer expressions and movements of the actors. Truth is, my play is written solely for the entertainment of the reader who enjoys the playlike setting: visualizing the actors moving across the stage of his or her mind. It is upon your judgment that the play will either go on ... or will close in your mind's theater after the first night. Finally, be aware that the stage directions are from the actor's perspective: Left and Right, Upstage and Backstage, are the opposite of the audience's perspective. And I'm outta here .... J.S. |
By Jay Squires
Thumbnail sketch of the last scene: Cornelius is being bullied on the basketball court during recess. Cililla watches it all several yards away but oddly doesn’t intercede or instruct him. A young girl student, Jenny Jax, stands near but is not a part of the klatch of bullies that circle Cornelius, jabbing at him. Bully leader, Delaney, is called to the office and the circle dissolves. Recess is over. Cililla explains to Cornelius the new rules of engagement and afterward a hesitant Jenny leads Cornelius to class.
[NOTE: Please read Author Notes.]
CHARACTERS
Cornelius Plumb: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12. Stunningly attractive, His mother dresses him fashionably and impeccably.
Cililla Queez: An apparent product of Cornelius’ mind, a replacement for his imaginary childhood mentor, Pidely-Poo; she is here to transition him through puberty and adolescence. She is shapelier than most of the girls and her demeanor is rather racy.
Jennie Jax: Attracted to Cornelius. A classmate, physically not yet blossomed. Kind-hearted, but still a child and swayable.
Mr. Hiney: 8th-grade teacher. Battling his demons, his wandering eyes reveal to the alert observer, a keen interest in what’s going on beneath the young girls’ desks. The students generally have figured out in a confused, intuitive way, what’s happening and occasionally some of the girls test their theories.
General Class Students: Only one rises occasionally above the surface, James Delaney’s friend, Hector Jones, and a girl named Susan do so today. All the girls wear skirts below the knees, which contrast greatly with Cililla's mini-skirt.
SETTING: An early 1950s 8th-grade classroom. A prominence of charts and pictures of branches of government, portraits of presidents, and historical figures populate the walls. A large teacher’s desk, metal-skirted on the sides and front, sits CENTERSTAGE, right, and faces left. Neat stacks of books and papers are on the desk. Traditional 1950s students’ desks with lift-up tops and book storage compartments beneath, are in the usual rows facing the teacher’s desk and extend back to stage left. The exit door is UPSTAGE right. An oversized clock is above the door. [Remember this is from the actors’ perspective, not the audience’s. To the latter, what’s given as left is right, upstage is, to them, downstage. That’s “theater” tradition.]
AT RISE: A few minutes after recess. The desk formerly occupied by JAMES DELANEY is conspicuously vacant. MR. HINEY leans the weight of his buttocks against the edge of his desk-front in a power-posture, arms crossed, legs straightened and crossed at the ankles. He scans the faces of his students until all eyes, except for CORNELIUS’S are fixed on his. CORNELIUS sits stiffly at his desk, located in the middle of the row, farthest from the exit door. In the row, just across from him, sitting on JENNY JAX’S desktop, CILILLA QUEEZ tugs her miniskirt to mid-thigh, then giving up on that, performs the balancing act of crossing her legs while gripping either side of the desktop. JENNY JAX, is unaware of CILILLA, of course.
| Author Notes |
Those of you who read scene one, have FanStory's BILL SCHOTT to thank for the change in the SETTING for this and subsequent classroom scenes. As he sagely pointed out, the way I'd had scene one set up, the audience could only see the backs of the students' heads and, facing them, a much smaller Mr. Hiney and his desk, being clear to the back of the stage. Thanks to you, BILL, I've spun the stage 90 degrees counter-clockwise.
Much gratitude for the photo by Daniel on Upsplash. |
By Jay Squires
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
| Author Notes |
I feel I should apologize for the abundance of stage direction. But stubbornly, I'm not going to do it. The music room will be the location for the next scene, and perhaps the one following. I need to make sure the setting is well-established in the readers' minds.
Much gratitude for the photo by Daniel on Upsplash. |
By Jay Squires
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh, I know, dear reader, this is long ... but if you choose to climb aboard — and my words have not failed me — you'll have a happy journey. I turned on the seat-warmer for your comfort and convenience.
THUMBNAIL SKETCH OF THE LAST SCENE: Cornelius is brought to the music room to defuse after an emotional incident in the classroom. He is playing somber chords on the piano. Cililla is with him as a measure and mirror of his mood. Principal Hallows and Nurse Wooden are observing. So are his classmates, who are outside the long window in the corridor. Jennie Jax is watching him from her corner of the window. Nurse Wooden, thinking Cornelius is having a seizure, leaves to call his parents. Suddenly a voice speaks offstage and the stage goes into shadow and everyone but Cornelius and Cililla go into suspended animation.
CHARACTERS
Cornelius Plumb: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12. Stunningly attractive, His mother dresses him fashionably and impeccably. He is at a developmental crossroad, physically, mentally, and emotionally. His thoughts, when spoken, often broken, tend to end in an inflection.
Cililla Queez: An outgrowth of Cornelius’ mind, a replacement for his imaginary childhood mentor, Pidely-Poo; she is here to transition him through puberty and adolescence. She is shapelier than most of the girls and her demeanor is rather racy, like a pre-teen channeling a stripper, but she also feels deeply and abounds in wisdom.
Pidely-Poo: Like Cililla, an outgrowth of Cornelius’s younger mind, who had been active until recently, having gone silent when Cililla materialized. Possesses all the worst parts of immaturity and the best parts of hope and quixotic dreams.
SETTING: [For full description see Author Notes] The Music Room: Right center stage, is the piano, facing the audience, but angled so the piano player can be seen, but his hand movements can’t. Long window extends from upstage right to downstage right. The other side of the window is an outside corridor, and beyond it, the playground (or a backdrop representing the same). The Timeframe is early 1950s.
AT RISE: PRINCIPAL HALLOWS, near the piano, and the few remaining students on the corridor outside the window, including JENNIE JAX (at the downstage corner of the window), are in suspended animation, and in shadow. Under full stage-light and movement are CORNELIUS and CILILLA. She is silently comforting him. Entering, and chattering noisily from the left stage darkness, and fairly bouncing toward them, is the gaudily-dressed (with banana-yellow spiked hair) man-child, PIDELY-POO.
CORNELIUS:
(Sizing PIDILY-POO up, anxiously through wide eyes)
You—look—dif-fer-ent?
PIDELY-POO:
It’s a ringly-dingly differ-if-erent world, Cornie —
(then, enthusiastically, attended with a flamboyant flinging of his arms)
a crazy, zany, beautiful, differ-if-erent world.
CILILLA QUEEZ:
He does look different, doesn’t he, Cornelius? Look at him very carefully, Sweetie. Look at that hair. Is that even a color? You remember it as soft and curly, don’t you? but also, look at how he’s dressed. Are those the clothes of a king’s son? Would they even allow him on the Island of Awm?
PIDELY-POO:
(Crossing to face CILILLA, appraising her)
So, this is the famous CILILLA QUEEZ! Does Pidely-Poo’s appearance frighten you, hmm?
(Smiles briefly at CORNELIUS whose attention darts like a cornered bird from one to the other. PIDELY ogles CILILLA)
Pidely must say, you are a diddlelovely replacement.
(He maneuvers to stand beside her and with a verticle movement of his head, guides his eyes from her feet, up her body, slowing at her hips)
Mmmmmm. Yes.
[CILILLA casually watches PIDILY-POO reach down, slipping his fingertips under the hem of her miniskirt, and proceed to work it, inch-by-inch up her thigh until the bottom elastic of her panties show, and then slides two fingers beneath them. CORNELIUS watching it all, mouth open, looks away, but quickly back.]
CILILLA:
IF … I were to allow you to reach your presumed prize, Pidely-Poo, what then? What in the world would you do with it, you little shit of an imp?
(with that, she gives his forearm a karate chop; he grabs his arm and begins hopping about.)
[CORNELIUS, as though jolted by a shock, jumps back a few feet and he reaches for his own arm]
PIDELY-POO:
(Through tears and hiccupping, the way a child would, he whimpers)
Pidely-Poo’s—only doing what—what—
(interrupting himself with wet catches in his throat)
what was in Cornie's mind, to begin with.
CORNELIUS:
(Stalking around erratically, zigging a few steps in one direction, zagging a few in another, his lips moving in an inner conversation)
Huh-uh … no he … yeees he did… ohhh, naughty! Cornelius … Oh, no, no, no.
( In the course of his inner prosecution and defense, he brings his fingertips to his cheek, holds them there a moment, then drops them)
CILILLA:
(Making a halting step toward CORNELIUS, then turning her rage back to PIDELY-POO, as CORNELIUS continues his personal rant)
See what you’ve done, you little fucking twerp! How dare you take a tiny flake of the truth, then slop it through your filthy sewer of a mind.
(She makes a helpless gesture to CORNELIUS, who still wanders about the room, berating himself, oblivious of anyone)
Of course, it’s been in his mind, you shithead. He’s twelve years old. That’s why I’m here, to help him sort it all out. He needs me. He doesn’t need you. He’s outgrown your juvenile tactics. Why don’t you go check on your progress with Mr. Hiney?
PIDELY-POO:
(Wounded, he sticks out his tongue at her)
Cornie loves Pidely-Poo. Pidely-Poo makes him happy. Doesn’t he, Cornie?
CORNELIUS:
(Stops, turns, smiles)
Pidely’s funny. Pidely makes Cornie laugh.
(Turns again, stalking away, confused)
CILILLA:
Of course he does, Sweetie. He's good at making people laugh. Look at him! And there was a time you needed that, Cornelius. He was there to sweep you off to the Island of Awm, with the birds and the castle and the king. You turned to Pidely-Poo whenever things in the real world were too tough to deal with. He was your key. And he was good for you back then. Back then.
PIDELY-POO:
(Reenergized)
Yes! Yes! And Pidely can—will be good for you now, little Cornie. Just like before. Pidely and you will have a good time, won’t we? Won’t we, Cornie?
(Begins cartwheeling and whirling toward CORNELIUS, who is conflicted and keeps turning away from him, though a smile flickers, then disappears, then returns. CILILLA watches it all, curiously)
You remember the key, don’t you, Cornie? Close your eyes and make the sounds, Cornie, make them, and you and Pidely will be off to the Island of Awm, just like before.
(With enthusiasm building to a crescendo as he talks, following CORNELIUS’S zig-zaggy lumber …. CORNELIUS who is torn, whose frightened glances toward CILILLA are not returned: in fact, CILILLA has allowed her eyes to close and she stands there, a small smile on her lips, her hands clasped in front of her.)
We can race through the castle halls and even go to the King’s chamber. You know he’s fallen into a deep slumber now ... it's because he’s lost all hope that the queen will ever return. But we can wake him, Cornie—you and Pidely. And together, with your true father, the King—you can’t forget that, Cornie … your true father is the King of Awm, and, and, and Pidely-Poo is your Brother, you mustn’t forget that—together we can rekindle the King’s hope and, and we can develop the plan to, to kill Howlword, the King’s evil brother, and return our Mother—yours and Pidely’s Mother—Queen Toloache, back to the Island of Awm, back to her throne, where, where we can all live together, Cornie, in peace. Oh, Cornie, won’t it be wonderful? That peace?
CILILLA:
(Out of a place of weariness, turning now to CORNELIUS)
Of course, it would be wonderful, Sweetie. If you want to stay forever a child. But is that what you want? Is that what you really want? Because, if you do, if you follow Pidely-Poo to the Island of Awm … and you let him lure you into the dark, shadowy castle, the door will lock behind you. I promise you that, Sweetie, the door will lock behind you and you’ll be forever a child-prisoner in that castle. Is that what you—
PIDELY-POO:
Don’t listen to the slut, Cornie! She doesn’t want you on the Island of Awm because … because …
(With sudden enlightenment)
Yes! Because she won’t have a job anymore. You do know, don’t you …
(Covering a fit of giggles with his shaking hand, he continues on talking around and through them)
You do know she—she is on your evil Uncle Howlword’s … his, his payroll, don’t you? Not just as his, umm, son’s tutor, but, but Pidely has caught them—oh, yes, he’s caught them … he caught them doing terr-ri-bul, naughty, naughty things.
CILILLA:
I should let you go on, I really should. You’re watching this dirty little movie, you turd, a movie you’ve created in your mind. You have created some pretty spicy stuff, haven’t you, there in that stinky, swampy mind? Oh yes, there’s something delicious, isn’t there, Pidely-Poo, when you can hide in the murky shadows of that projection room and watch everything unfold in your slimy little mind.
PIDELY-POO:
(Rattled, covering his ears with his hands, whining)
No, no, noooooooo. Don’t you listen, Cornie, that’s not it.
CILILLA:
Oh, yes, Pidely, that’s exactly it. That’s exactly what you’re doing. I know it, and you know it. And we both know why.
PIDELY-POO:
(Still covering his ears, dancing about)
Dum-de-dum-de dum. De diddily dum de dum.
CILILLA:
And we know why it is so terribly important for you to lure this innocent child, using any bait you can, back onto that Island of Awm—and once you get him there, to entice him through those heavy castle doors that will lock behind him. Because then you’ll have won. Because then it will all be over. His mind will forever be imprisoned in a dark, lonely, timeless, music-less void.
PIDELY-POO:
Liar, liar, pants on fire!
CILILLA:
Cornelius knows I don’t lie to him. If he listens to you …
(here, her voice breaks and tears invade her eyes)
… and if he makes those magical sounds—
PIDELY-POO:
Yes, Cornie, just make those sounds now!
CILILLA:
If he listens to you… shit! How could you—you loveless fuck!?
(Breathing heavily)
If—if he listens to you and makes those sounds, you’ll have kidnapped his beautiful mind, and all the beautiful music that’s waiting to be born in it, the world’s music, and you’ll have locked it away in that dark, soulless castle until it withers and dies.
(Exhausted)
But even then, you will own only a part of Cornelius. That’s what’s so sad. Better you could take all of him! But here in the real world, his body will continue to wander about until he is old and feeble, and those who love him, and those who are simply curious, will still try to burrow into what’s behind the few words you’ve left him, will search for a flicker of light there, but it will be fruitless because his mind will be far away—might as well be a galaxy away—in some dark and unforgiving place.
[CILILLA suddenly slumps to the floor and buries her face in her hands. CORNELIUS stops his movement and stares at her. He begins frantically tracing the sign of eternity with his forefinger, in large sweeping arcs.]
PIDELY-POO:
(Watching CORNELIUS intently)
Oh, Pidely-Poo remembers that! That’s the sign when you were looking for Pidely. And that’s when Pidely would appear. Remember? And you would make the magic sounds, and off we would go. Well, here’s Pidely, Cornie. Here he is.
CORNELIUS:
Cililla—is—Cililla is—sad.
PIDELY-POO:
(knuckling his eye-sockets)
Oh, boo-hoo-hoo-hoo! Cililla doesn’t like to lose. She’s no fun. She just wants to control you.
CORNELIUS:
Con—trol?
PIDELY-POO:
Sure, that’s right. She’s no fun. That’s why she doesn’t want you to say the magic sounds. She knows with Pidely, you have fun. She knows you want to make the magic sounds, and that leaves her crying like a little baby. That’s right. Make them, Cornie. Make them now.
[CORNELIUS lets out a long sigh that ends in a moan, and he closes his eyes]
CILILLA:
(Clambering to her feet, she turns to CORNELIUS, whose eyes are closed and whose face has a meditative look, and she waves her hands wildly)
Cornie! Sweet Cornie, look at me! Cornelius! Look!
[CORNELIUS gives a few jerks of his head and his eyes fly open.]
PIDELY-POO:
Ohhhh, we were almost there, Cornie. Close your eyes again. Mmmmmmmake the sounds, brother, the soooooounds.
CILILLA:
No, no, Sweetness, keep your eyes open. Look at me, Cornie. I’ve never lied to you, Cornie, and I’m not going to lie to you now. I know that Pidely-Poof’s magic seems so easy to you—
CORNELIUS:
(With a rare smile)
You — you said Pidely Poof — That's, um, funny. His name's Poo, Pidely Poo?
CILILLA:
That was funny, Sweetie, wasn’t it? His name’s not Pidely Poof. I said it that way because Pidely was so close to luring you away—POOF !— to kidnapping your mind the way he said that Howlword kidnapped your mama. You were a few seconds away from being his prisoner, Sweetie. And the real world would forevermore go POOF!
(Beat)
Please, Cornelius, look at me …. Sure, it seems easier. Poof! And everything that ever hurt you would be gone! Poof! All the James Delaneys of the world—gone! Poof, your father gone! Poof! Gone that scary Mr. Hiney. But you know what, Cornie? You know what else will be gone? You know what else will go POOF! when you make the magic sound? Sweetie? Do you? Look at me, Cornie.
(CORNELIUS is looking at her, but to his side is PIDELY-POO, making faces, trying to distract him)
CILILLA (Continued):
POOF! Sweetie, forevermore, gone will be your Mama. Your mama! You’ll never see her again. POOF! Mr. Hallows, gone. He’s one of the good ones, Cornie. I’ll be gone, too, Cornie. Yes, I’ll be gone. I know I’ve let you down, but I’m learning, too. Anyway, it will be goodbye to me. Goodbye to Mr. Hallows. Oh, and goodbye to Music. There's no music in the Castle, Cornie. But there’s one more, Sweetness. There's one more POOF ... one more goodbye. One more who will be gone, forever gone. Look!
(She points to the corner of the window, and CORNELIUS follows the direction of her finger)
CILILLA (Continued):
POOF! Gone will be Jennie Jax.
(Cornelius’s hand raises almost as a reflex to his cheek.)
CILILLA (continued):
Gone before you have a chance to know her. Gone before you get to know that out of the two of you would have sprung a far greater magic than Pidely-Poo's.
[The moment his fingertips rest on the remembered kiss … out of the shadowed stage and the frozen animation of the actors, a small spotlight falls on JENNIE JAX and only she, of the “frozen” cast, becomes animated. Her eyes connect with CORNELIUS’S. Her face is still wet from her tears. But a smile slowly forms on her lips.]
PIDELY-POO
(Stomping his foot like a child having a tantrum)
No! No! No! This is not fun, Cornie. This is not fun at all. It is un-fun That's what it is!
[ PIDELY-POO starts toward the stage left exit. But on the second step, his right leg turns rubbery, and he reaches for it with both hands. Then it's his left leg. He turns and gives CORNELIUS and CILILLA a confused and embarrassed laugh, but both are looking at the window and don't even notice. Another step and his upper body erupts with a spasm of rubbery jerking, like a marionette whose operator has fallen asleep in the middle of the performance. PIDELY-POO collapses to the floor in an untidy pile of arms and legs, is still for a moment, and then unwraps them enough to get to his hands and knees to crawl the last few feet. Before exiting he wiggles his rear and casts a glance back at them.]
PIDELY-POO
Won't you even say good biddly-bye to Pidely-Poo, Cornie?
[CORNELIUS is still staring at the window. His fingertips are on his cheek. CILILLA is smiling at him]
PIDELY-POO (Continued):
Pidely-Poo doesn't feel right, Cornie. Pidely feel diff-if ... feels diff-if-er-if-erent. Good-bye, Cornie. Good bidily-bye.
END OF SCENE 8
| Author Notes |
FULL SETTING DESCRIPTION: The music room. Upstage, Right center to left, Lockers and cupboards line the walls. Several brass instruments are leaning against the wall. Upstage right, exit door leads to an outside corridor. A large window extends from the exit door to downstage, right, with draw-drapes at either end. A railing goes along the far side of the corridor. The playground, basketball court, etc., stretches beyond (Can be a backdrop picture). Right center stage, is the piano, facing the audience, but angled so the piano player can be seen, but his hand movements can't. Miscellaneous chairs are scattered about. There is no wall, stage left: it is implicit by a line of darkness upstage left to downstage left.
Much gratitude for the photo by Daniel on Upsplash. |
By Jay Squires
Personal Note To Reader: In exchange for this gift of a short scene, would you kindly read the Author's Notes first? I'll be keeping your place in line right here for when you come back.
Thumbnail sketch of the Last Scene: Cililla Queez and Pidely-Poo battle over right-of-access to Cornelius’s mind. Pidely-Poo’s urgency to win-over Cornelius’s total loyalty, which would render him forever a child, is Pidely's “last hurrah”, and when he goes down in defeat to Cililla, he crawls away to his final exit. Cililla’s leverage in defeating Pidely is by focusing Cornelius’s attention on Jennie Jax, standing outside the window in tears.
CHARACTERS:
Cornelius Plumb: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12. Stunningly attractive, His mother dresses him fashionably and impeccably. He is at a developmental crossroad, physically, mentally, and emotionally. His thoughts, when spoken, often broken, tend to end in an inflection. Movements Jerky. Has a mild stammer.
Cililla Queez: An outgrowth of Cornelius’ mind, a replacement for his imaginary childhood mentor, Pidely-Poo; she is here to transition him through puberty and adolescence. She is shapelier than most of the girls she is to typify and her demeanor is rather racy, like a pre-teen channeling a stripper, but she also feels deeply and abounds in wisdom.
Jennie Jax: Cornelius’s classmate, age 12, physically not yet blossomed. On the shy side, she is kind-hearted, but still a child and swayable. She is attracted to Cornelius.
SETTING: A towering green hedge Upstage, right to left. Grassy playground, Centerstage, right to left, with a few kids milling about or sitting with their lunches spread out. Balls lying here and there, perhaps a tetherball pole awaiting use. Downstage, Center, a large boulder, flattened, and perfect for two or three people to sit on. A few flowering plants are growing to the sides and back.
AT RISE: CORNELIUS and JENNIE are sitting on the large boulder, a foot of space separating them. JENNIE occasionally steals a glance at CORNELIUS, but for the most part, she seems to be studying her feet. CORNELIUS sits stiff and straight, chin high, his head making short jabbing movements at the space just above the expansive roof of the school, and the corner of the dark green hedge to his left that borders the school ground, abutting with the hedge behind them. CILILLA smiles down at them from the rear.
JENNIE:
(In a shaky voice, to her feet)
I’m glad you came with me, Cornelius.
(Picking up the two lunch bags at her feet, placing one in the space on the boulder between them)
I brought it from under your desk.
(Beat)
We should probably eat.
(Unwraps a sandwich from her bag and takes a small bite from half of it, shooting a glance at CORNELIUS)
JENNIE (Continuing):
You’re not hungry?
[For a moment, CORNELIUS continues staring into his safe space, but then he brings his attention to his bag, opens it, much as a blind person would, and pulls out a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. He slowly unwraps it, keeping his eyes averted from JENNIE. He takes a tiny bite and chews it absently.]
JENNIE (Continuing):
Your mom made you baloney. Mine always makes me peanut butter and jelly—yuck! I keep telling her I’m tired of them, but she keeps making them.
(She stares for a long time at her sandwich, as though expecting it to comment)
Do you like peanut butter and jelly?
CORNELIUS:
(Agitation building)
I-I dropped—a jar of pic-kles.
(Beat)
I was-was … nine.
JENNIE:
That, um, that must’ve been messy. Did your mama get mad?
[CORNELIUS takes a bite of his sandwich.]
JENNIE (Continuing):
My older brother—he’s dead—but … me and him, we used to trade halves of our sandwiches on account o’ he made his own out of mustard and pickles, and he’d always say it tasted good at first, and so we’d trade. …Your pickle jar reminded me.
(She glances down at a volleyball that had rolled to their feet and gives it a cursory kick away)
JENNIE (continuing):
So … I was just wondering … I mean, do you wanna … you wanna trade the other half of our sandwich, Cornelius?
CORNELIUS:
(Animatedly speaking to the safe-space above the building while shaking his head resolutely)
Nooo! It’s—my sandwich. Mama made it.
[CILILLA touches CORNELIUS’S shoulder, but says nothing]
JENNIE:
I understand. I don’t know why mama uses strawberry jam. Some of the berry chunks are so big they tear through the bread and get my fingers all sticky. And I keep telling her, white bread, mama, white bread, but she only buys Roman Meal because she says it’s a hundred percent whole wheat and that’s better for me.
(Beat)
So it’s okay. … Ummm, Cor-nelius?
(with filling eyes, and through a sniffly, catchy voice)
Cornelius—I was … I-I’m sorry for what that big bully did to you at recess, yesterday. Um, I probably shouldn’t have, but I told my Mom and Dad about it, and … and well, they called the school on account of I’m new here from Montana and they were worried about me, being as I'm their only child left and all.
[CILILLA puts both hands on CORNELIUS’S shoulders, hoping to quiet his building agitation.]
JENNIE (Continuing):
Anyway … Daddy said they weren’t supposed to tell me, but the school suspended him. Not Daddy—but that boy. He has to take the Constitution test after school, but he won’t be back anymore. And …
(Beat)
So, I-I wanted you to know. Cornelius … I’m sorry—
(Sniffs and swipes her eyes with her fingertips)
I’m sorry … I couldn’t—I-I was afraid to do anything when they kept poking at you.
CORNELIUS:
Ooooooo that's o-kay—It’s ooooooo-kay.
[CILILLA bends over and whispers something to CORNELIUS. With obvious resistance, he makes stuttery little movements of his head toward JENNIE, and her tear-filled eyes look back.]
CORNELIUS (Continuing):
I—need to—c-c-care now. S-s-show you.
(Suddenly, his face registers panic and he jerks his head away)
Nooooooo, huh-uh ….
JENNIE:
We don’t need to look at each other, Cornelius. We can just sit here and eat. And be friends. We don’t need to say anything. Can we just do that, Cornelius?
[CILILLA, unobserved by anyone, dances about behind them jubilantly.]
[There ensues a long period of silence, with much of the drama in the remainder of the scene being in the expressions crowding CORNELIUS'S AND JENNIE'S faces. Both munch at their half sandwiches, and there should be a sense of intimacy in their separation. After perhaps a full minute of this, CORNELIUS, with his characteristic jerky movements, removes the wrapped half sandwich from his bag. He holds it out to JENNIE while still looking away. She takes it with excitement she has trouble concealing, retrieves her own wrapped half-sandwich, and hands it across the chasm to him. They begin eating their newly acquired sandwiches.]
JENNIE:
Thank you, Cornelius.
(Beat)
CORNELIUS
C-C-Cornie.
END OF SCENE 9
| Author Notes |
It's probably a good idea to remind the reader from time to time that the story takes place in the early 50s. The world knew little about the spectrum of Autism back then. The man on the street was likely to associate it with a kind of craziness that needed to be sealed off from polite society. I would have been among them. Not as one of the bullies: not like James Delaney. I was too skinny and nerdy for that. But I would've probably been right there cheering him on. I mean, my God, man, some of them crazies stank and even slobbered or had snot hanging from their noses. They didn't belong in school. I mean, they would've been happier in an institution. You know, with their own kind....
Much gratitude for the photo by Daniel on Upsplash. |
By Jay Squires
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Reader Note: To put yourself fully into this scene, why not drop down to the Youtube Video as soon as you begin the dialogue. (I suggest you turn your computer volume to 50 %.) Leave it on, quietly in the background as you read. That’s how Cornelius would be playing it if you were in his living room—or sitting in the audience.
One more thing: I must confess that the caustic “foul” language I put in the characters’ mouths does not come easily to me. I use it, I hope, to show the heightened levels of anger and frustration experienced by the characters. Please allow me that and forgive me in advance if I offend you.
Thumbnail Sketch of Last Scene: Cornelius and Jennie sit on a large flat boulder to the rear of the playground where they share their lunch hour. Cililla stands behind them, unseen by Jennie. They are uneasy being together. Jennie does all the talking, while Cornelius stares into space munching the sandwich from his bag. She haltingly tries to get him to trade half-sandwiches; however, Cornelius awkwardly, but decidedly refuses. Later, when she apologizes for not defending him when he was being bullied the day before, he trades his half-sandwich with her. He tells her she can call him Cornie.
CHARACTERS:
Cornelius Plumb: [Not Physically in this scene] An autistic, musical genius child, age 12.
Toloache [Pron: Toh-loh-AH-chee] Plumb: Cornelius’s mother; former off-Broadway actress and bit player in daytime soaps, she now owns a small, borderline-successful acting studio. She glows with love for her son and protects him with much the same fierce devotion and duty as a knight would protect his kingdom.
Howard Plumb: Cornelius’s father; Enormously successful founder and C.E.O of a Fortune 500 company. Highly intelligent, he is emotionally distant from his wife and entirely dismissive of his son. He recognizes his wife as a social asset but Cornelius as an embarrassment and a social detriment.
SETTING: Plumb family living room. Opulently furnished, there are the trappings of wealth everywhere. Long, plush couch, center stage. Stage left, a large, gleaming grand piano placed at an angle so the audience cannot see the piano keys. Across from the piano, stage right, a door opening to another room.
AT RISE: Unseen, and in another room (the music practice room) CORNELIUS can be heard playing. [see video, below. For the full effect you should click on the video now (at 50% volume) and imagine Cornelius playing the piano in the other room.] HOWARD and TOLOACHE sit some distance apart on the couch. Both are enjoying the music for a full minute, without speaking.
TOLOACHE:
(Eyes closed, a lingering smile)
I can’t even tell you how blessed that makes me feel right now.
HOWARD:
(Shoots her a withering look, but seeing it was wasted on her closed eyes, he recovers)
Well … the boy’s good, I’ll give you that. The lessons are turning out to be a decent return on investment.
TOLOACHE:
(Popping open her eyes and studying him, wearily)
Are turning out? You are kidding. No, you’re not! Howard, the teacher came for five one-hour, weekly lessons. Taught him the scale, how to read music, and by the third lesson he said that he, the teacher, was being taught technique, the nuances of timing and rhythm, just by listening to and observing Cornelius. After the fifth lesson he told me that in all good conscience, he couldn’t continue taking money for further lessons. He ended up gifting Cornelius the portfolios of three great composers, kissed him on both cheeks, and I’ve never seen the man since.
HOWARD:
He’s probably out raking the gutters for punk change. He’ll never make a success of it by throwing away business.
TOLOACHE:
I’m going to tell you something you’ll never understand.
HOWARD:
Spare me!
TOLOACHE:
There are people out in the unwashed world who don’t give a shit for Fortune 500 status.
HOWARD:
Pity that! And to think we 500 achieve our status while leaving giant footprints on the backs and shoulders of the millions of lesser ones.
TOLOACHE:
Jesus!—And he says it with such pride!
(feigns sticking her finger down her throat and mimicing a gagging response)
HOWARD:
You damn right I’m proud!
(Recovers, smiles, and places a forefinger across his lips; smiling, and then, glancing furtively, right and left, he whispers)
Shhhhhhh. And now I’m going to tell you something you’ll never understand. The world, my dear Toley, is made up of hunchbacks—like the piano teacher—so stoop-shouldered from scrabbling through the gutters and alleyways for quarters, dimes, and pennies, that they make their backs easy stepping stones for our footprints on our way to the top.
(Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose)
Just breathe in the sweet fragrance up here, Toley. Go ahead, take a whiff! After all, you’re privileged to be up here with me.
TOLOACHE:
You asshole! It's me you're talking to .... Don't you ever call it a privilege!
HOWARD:
So, I gather you won’t want me here tonight.
(Pulls up his sleeve to reveal his watch)
I still have time to meet with Jeffrey over next week’s merger strategies.
TOLOACHE:
Another all-nighter. Ha! Whatever the hell brings you joy, Howard. I foolishly thought that your joy would be meeting your son’s first real friend … and her stoop-shouldered parents.
HOWARD:
Do they know about …
(Giving his head a jerk toward the music)
TOLOACHE:
No, I don’t think they know he plays the piano.
HOWARD:
Don’t be coy, Toley.
TOLOACHE:
I don’t know much more than you do. We just talked yesterday… just visited over the phone.
HOWARD:
Out of the blue. She just felt like chatting with you. How’d she get your number?
TOLOACHE:
It’s hardly a conspiracy. And what makes you think she got my number? I called her. We chatted a while and then I invited her and Mr. Jax and their daughter over for a visit. It's called being social.
HOWARD:
No. No, that just doesn't smell right. How'd you get her number?
TOLOACHE:
Now you asked the right question. If you quit interrupting, I'll tell you the whole story.
[Howard leans back against the backrest and scowls]
TOLOACHE:
(Continues)
Apparently Mr. Hallows—he’s our son’s principal—noticed that Jennie and Cornelius have been eating lunch together for the last four or five consecutive days.
HOWARD:
(Smiling)
Well, well!
TOLOACHE:
Just innocent stuff, for Chrissakes. Get that lurid grin off your face. They’re only twelve.
HOWARD:
So, after the principal spies on them for five days—
TOLOACHE:
Not spying.
HOWARD:
What do you call it then? Don’t be naive, Toley. Do you think that Cornelius and his … love interest are the only two kids eating lunch together every day? No, but the principal ticks off five days in a row on his desk calendar. And then he thinks, yep, I’d better call the girl’s folks now. Before it’s too late.
TOLOACHE:
If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were defending our son.
HOWARD:
Well, he needs defending, that’s for—
TOLOACHE:
He needs loving!
HOWARD:
He needs defending, Toloache! And you … you’re the one … who has chosen to take on that responsibility yourself. I went on record right from the beginning, and I’ll go on record again now and tell you … the boy belongs in an institution—
TOLOACHE:
Where you can hide him.
HOWARD:
Not …
(He begins rubbing the base of his neck, his eyes registering sudden confusion)
TOLOACHE:
Are you okay?
HOWARD:
You’ve got me worked up is all.
(Taking a deep breath)
I’m fine …. He does not belong in a public school.
TOLOACHE:
Where he might be recognized as the son of California’s … fifth wealthiest—
HOWARD:
Fourth.
TOLOACHE:
Oops, I knew that.
HOWARD:
Of course, you know that, Toley. You’ve never let the Forbes subscription lapse.
TOLOACHE:
Yeah, sure. Anyway, I know where you’re taking me with all this. It’s where it ends every time the subject comes up.
HOWARD:
Well, it’s true!
TOLOACHE:
(In a mock masculine voice—while HOWARD watches with a smug smile)
“Toley, you know full-well the education system would not for one minute consider that boy fit to ma-tric-u-late, kindergarten through eighth grade, if it weren’t for the fifty-thou-a-year charitable grant to the county school administration. Oh, yes, Toley … and another twenty-grand a year, under the table, to his personal alma mater to what? Grease the passage, so to speak? Hmmm, yes, you’ve effectively slipped a golden collar around their corporate necks, my dear, and you have elected to hold the leash.”
HOWARD:
Brav-ooo!
TOLOACHE:
(Effecting a bow)
Anyway, wealthy husband of mine, they are going to be here in a little over an hour. I really don’t give a flying fuck whether you’re here or not. It will be awkward if you’re not, but I’m good at making excuses for your absences. If you choose to stay and meet them, and you would like, in a few sentences, to know how the invitation came about—instead of playing your insipid, paranoic guessing games—I can tell you.
HOWARD:
Just … tell me, Toloache.
TOLOACHE:
First of all, the principal you hold in such low regard, Mr. Hallows, loves our son …
(Seeing HOWARD’S eyebrows arch and a smile form)
TOLOACHE (Continues):
Quit! Just quit! He’s a saint—I won’t have you drag him into the sewer with the rest of your thoughts. Mr. Hallows loves our son almost as much as I love him … and a hell of a lot more than …
HOWARD:
Yes?
TOLOACHE
Never mind…
HOWARD:
Go ahead, tell me.
TOLOACHE
No, I won’t put words to it, but … but for once in my life, please—please prove my thoughts wrong.
(beat)
For Chrissakes, Howard, just let me go on.
(beat)
Mr. Hallows’s office looks out on the playground and he noticed Jennie Jax and our Cornelius sitting together during lunchtime. At first, he thought it was just a happy circumstance of Cornelius finally finding a friend. But then he noticed it was a daily occurrence. He could see from his distance that little Jennie was the chatty one. Cornelius hardly spoke at all.
HOWARD:
Go on, Toley, get to the point, or you’ll still be telling me about it when they’re ringing the doorbell.
TOLOACHE:
So … after the fifth day, Mr. Hallows thought that, given his knowledge of the overall circumstances, and given their ages and of course his responsibility as principal, that he should give Mrs. Jax just a casual call.
HOWARD:
Mrs. Jax! Mrs. Jax! Why not us? Doesn’t he know what side his bread is buttered on?
TOLOACHE:
Mr. Hallows already knows me.
HOWARD:
Really!
TOLOACHE:
Jesus! I already had a meeting with him, for Chrissakes. About Cornelius. Remember the letter I told you about?
HOWARD:
Oh, yes … What was that meeting about, anyway. How did that turn out?
TOLOACHE:
(With a bitter chuckle)
The time to have asked that would have been the day after. Not a week and a half later. If you’re still interested tomorrow, we’ll talk about that, but just now, let me finish this.
(wearily)
So … he called Mrs. Jax and told her that her Jennie had made a new friend and had been eating lunch with him daily for five days and—
HOWARD:
Oh, I see … and he just wanted to let her know what kind of boy their precious little daughter—
TOLOACHE:
No, you asshole! That’s not it at all. He didn’t tell her anything about Cornelius. He thought that should be handled in a dialogue between the Jaxes and us. Which was the reason why before ending the call with Mrs. Jax, he told her she could expect a return call shortly from either me or himself. He didn’t want to provide her with our phone number, but she volunteered her number for him to give to me.
HOWARD:
Quite a tightrope act our Mr. Hallows performed. So … so, you called Mrs. Jax and told her all about the boy’s … condition.
TOLOACHE:
No!
HOWARD:
What!
TOLOACHE:
No, I-I mean … because if I had told Mrs. Jax about Cornelius … and-and if she cut off the kids’ friendship right there—if she would have forbidden Jennie, right there, from having anything to do with our son …
(Her eyes filling)
I don’t know—I-I couldn’t—how could I live with myself?
HOWARD:
Well—You manage.
(watching her blink the tears from her eyes, he reaches out and pats her thigh.)
You’d better go put a fresh face on. So … you need me here, then?
(beat)
Never mind—I’ll stay. I think …
(After a thoughtful nod, he turns his whole body slowly toward the music)
I think I want to be here.
[As HOWARD turns, the stage lighting fades to gray and the two sit in silhouette. The music volume increases until it seems to fill the whole room, and the stage goes to black]
END OF SCENE 10
| Author Notes |
CLOSE YOUR EYES: THIS WILL BE CORNELIUS PLAYING:
|
By Jay Squires
Cililla Queez: An outgrowth of Cornelius’ mind, a replacement for his imaginary childhood mentor, Pidely-Poo; she is here to transition him through puberty and adolescence. She has a cute, pert face, and a pixie haircut. She is shapelier than most of the girls she is to typify and her demeanor is rather racy, like a pre-teen channeling a stripper, but she also feels deeply and abounds in wisdom.
Clarinetta: The Plumb family maid.
By Jay Squires
PREVIOUS SCENE, SHORT AND SWEET: Cililla prepares Cornelius for the all-important meeting with the Jaxes, by teaching him the strategy of appearing to make eye contact with them.
CHARACTERS: Found in "Author's Notes"
SETTING: Plumb family living room. Opulently furnished, there are the trappings of wealth everywhere. Chandelier glimmers from the high ceiling. Long, elegant couch, center stage, facing stage right. Two plush armchairs facing the couch. Downstage left, a gleaming grand piano has been placed at an angle so the audience cannot see the piano keys. Upstage right, a door opening to another room. A small bar with bottles, glasses, etc., upstage right, near the door. Downstage right, a double door opens to the foyer. Stage right wall, a large cubist painting.
TIME: Evening, 1952
AT OPEN: TOLOACHE and HOWARD, dressed in a casually understated manner, are sitting rather stiffly on the couch, with about three feet separating them. TOLOACHE extends her right arm toward him and glances at her fingertips as though measuring the distance. She casually scoots about a foot closer.
TOLOACHE:
(Effecting a smile)
Shall we try tonight, Dear?
[There is a knocking at the door, upstage right; it opens and CLARINETTA pokes her head through]
CLARINETTA:
Begging your pardon, Mr. and Mrs. Plumb. The Jaxes are pulling into the driveway.
HOWARD:
We have the buzzer, Clarinetta. If we need you.
CLARINETTA:
(Withdrawing her head)
Sorry, Sir.
TOLOACHE:
She’s trying hard to be helpful.
HOWARD:
We didn’t hire her to be a spy.
TOLOACHE:
I did ask her to let us know, Howard.
HOWARD:
Which you could have told me. Communication, Toley. Com-mun-i-CA-tion!
TOLOACHE:
Breathe, baby, breathe!
HOWARD:
(Stunned)
You haven’t called me baby in … I don't know.
TOLOACHE:
You haven’t given me a reason to tell you I love you, either, but I do.
HOWARD:
(Blinking, then smiling crookedly, and speaking through it)
I’m not one of your acting students, Toley.
TOLOACHE:
(Through closed eyes)
No. You’re not.
(Beat)
Can we both just try?
[Chimes fill the room, then silence. They stand. HOWARD glances over at TOLOACHE who smiles at him, and they both turn their attention to the downstage double door. Soon, it parts and CLARINETTA stands in the doorway, MR. & MRS. JAX and JENNIE behind her.]
CLARINETTA:
(With a touch of dramatic flair)
Mr. and Mrs. Plumb … requesting your presence are ... Mr. Gary Jax and his wife, Mrs. Phyllis Jax, and their daughter Jennie Jax.
TOLOACHE:
Oh for goodness sakes, Clarinetta!
(Laughing)
This isn’t the palace scene in My Fair Lady … folks, come on in. Please!
[CLARINETTA shuffles back through the door, with a parting grin to TOLOACHE; the Jaxes move out of her way; then stepping into the room, their eyes wander in awe over the exquisite walls, ceiling, and furnishings. TOLOACHE steps forward to them while HOWARD stays put just a moment before following his wife’s lead.]
TOLOACHE:
I’m so pleased we finally get to meet each other. Phyllis, I feel like we’re already old friends.
(extends both hands, which Phyllis takes in hers with a nervous smile)
PHYLLIS:
You have such a lovely—your home takes my breath away, Tol—Tol … forgive me …
TOLOACHE:
Don’t give it another thought, Phyllis. It’s a mouthful. It’s Toloache, but my friends all call me Toley. My father was an archeologist and a fanatic about ancient Mexican lore. He named me after the mysterious Mexican flower, Toloache—
HOWARD:
(Approaching GARY with outstretched hand)
Known for its aphrodisiacal properties.
TOLOACHE:
(frowning, dipping her head discretely in little Jennie’s direction)
Sweetheart!
HOWARD:
I am sorry. Forgive me, please.
(Already in a handshake with GARY, clears his throat)
The name’s Howard. My father worked on the Ford assembly line.
GARY:
(Glancing first at TOLOACHE, then back to HOWARD, and with a smile)
Sir … you’ve come far. The name’s Gary.
HOWARD:
Well, you might say I’ve worked—
TOLOACHE:
(Cutting him off)
And let me guess … this must be Jennie.
PHYLLIS:
(Prompting her daughter)
Jennie?
JENNIE:
(Timidly, in a thin voice)
Pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Plumb.
PHYLLIS:
I don’t see Cornelius.
TOLOACHE:
Oh … he’s in the music room.
[PHYLLIS AND GARY’S eyes immediately shift to the piano, stage left, and TOLOACHE shakes her head]
TOLOACHE (Continues):
No, I mean the music practice room.
(Then, to JENNIE)
Would you like to go see Cornelius, Dear?
PHYLLIS:
(Placing her hand on JENNIE’S shoulder, her eyes meet with her husband’s then return to TOLOACHE)
Oh, I don’t know, Toley … I … we—
TOLOACHE:
Oh … well …
(Beat)
Let me assure you, though, she’ll be fine. Clarinetta will be right there with them. She’s really good with children, and it will give us time to kind of get to know one another. You know?
PHYLLIS:
(Silently communicating with her husband again, she tilts her head to JENNIE, arching an eyebrow; in response to which JENNIE returns a look of astonishment)
Well … I suppose, then.
(To JENNIE)
You’re okay with that, Honey?
JENNIE:
Yes, Mama.
TOLOACHE:
That’s grand!
(To HOWARD)
Darling, will you call Clarinetta?
HOWARD:
The highlight of my day! If you’ll excuse me, Gary …
(Steps back to the couch, pushes a button embedded in the armrest, and then returns)
PHYLLIS:
Clarinetta … What an odd name. It’s very, I don’t know, musical? I’m guessing Italian?
TOLOACHE:
Ha!—no. I shouldn’t be blabbing this, but Clarinetta’s her acting name. Her real name’s Clara.
HOWARD:
You mean, the famous Claras from the Hamptons?
GARY:
What?
HOWARD:
I’m kidding!
TOLOACHE:
Such a kidder! Anyway, she’s enrolled in my acting class, and I—um—have kind of taken her under my wing and hired her on here as a live-in maid to help her earn her tuition and give her a little spending money.
PHYLLIS:
How generous of you!
(To JENNIE)
See? You may watch Clarinetta on the silver screen someday.
[The door, upstage right, opens and CLARINETTA sticks her head in]
CLARINETTA:
Begging your pardon … You rang?
TOLOACHE:
Clarinetta, please take Jennie to the music room and then stay there with them. We’ll ring you to bring them both here later.
PHYLLIS:
(Grasping her daughter’s shoulders, she pulls her into a kind of loose embrace against her thigh, pats her back, then releases her, and darts a quick glance to her husband)
You go along with Clarinetta, Dear, and be good for Mama and Daddy.
[JENNIE crosses to CLARINETTA and both exit. HOWARD and TOLOACHE take their seat on the couch and the JAXES slip into the two chairs facing the couch. There follows a period of awkward silence.]
TOLOACHE
Are you okay, Phyllis? Is there anything I can get you?
HOWARD
How about I mix us a drink?
GARY
Thank you. I don’t drink.
(Beat)
Anymore ... Phyllis?
PHYLLIS:
Listen … Toley and … and Mr. Plumb—
HOWARD:
You can call me Howard.
PHYLLIS:
Well, yes … thank you.
(Beat)
Howard, then, and Toley … I—we … we owe you an explanation. I know you’ve picked up on how protective we are of Jennie.
GARY:
Phyllis!
PHYLLIS:
No, but we are, Gary. It’s not right. They’ve got eyes. We’ve made them uncomfortable.
GARY:
Well, they are now, Phyllis! We’ll talk about this at home.
PHYLLIS:
(A sigh of capitulation)
I’m sorry, Toley. Forgive me, Howard.
TOLOACHE:
(Patting PHYLLIS’S arm)
No apology needed, Dear.
HOWARD:
(Rising)
Well, I need a drink. You’ll excuse me.
(Moves upstage to the bar)
GARY:
Let me give you a hand.
(Rising, following HOWARD)
[While HOWARD and GARY talk at the bar, PHYLLIS suddenly grasps both of TOLOACHE’S hands, leaning in, tears springing to her eyes]
PHYLLIS:
(In a low confidential voice)
Toley—I can’t … It’s tearing me up inside. Gary’s in denial. Jennie’s bright—she knows. Oh, shit, shit, shit, excuse me.
TOLOACHE:
We’ll talk tomorrow, Dear. I promise … I’ll call you.
PHYLLIS:
No! Yes, tomorrow please, but no. I can’t. Toley, my—our son died. Two month ago.
TOLOACHE:
Oh, my God!
(Reaches her arms out)
PHYLLIS:
No, please ... let me ... like I said, Gary's in denial, Toley. He's a sweet man, but you won't see that tonight. I don't even recognize him anymore. He lashes out at everyone. But even that might be better. Me ...
(patting her chest)
I’ve been keeping every scorching bit of it in here. Two months now.
TOLOACHE:
Jesus! Ohhhhhh. Phyllis … Phyllis …
PHYLLIS:
It’s out now, and I must say something's been lifted from me. Oh, you don’t know. Please. Do. Do call tomorrow. I need that.
TOLOACHE:
I will, Dear. Tomorrow.
PHYLLIS:
Can you help me pull myself together? Before they come back?
TOLOACHE:
(Handing her a neatly folded handkerchief from her dress pocket.)
You’ll be fine.
HOWARD:
(From the bar, in an elevated voice)
Toley, did you know Gary’s really Robin Craddock?
TOLOACHE:
(Momentarily Confused)
No, you’re not!
GARY:
Guilty. Not proud, but guilty.
TOLOACHE:
No! It’s a pen name, then? I followed Chelee McNamara from bedroom to the U.S Senate for all seven books in the series. I’ve been waiting for the eighth.
GARY:
Wait away! So has Putnam. It’s dried up, I’m afraid.
(Then, directed to his wife, with sudden enthusiasm)
But listen, Phyllis … do you have any idea whose house we are in?
TOLOACHE:
(Under her breath)
Oh, my God!
GARY:
Howard is the founder and CEO of Plumb Chemicals. Huh? You know?
[PHYLLIS gives a confused smile, raises her shoulders, and drops them. TOLOACHE, meanwhile, gives HOWARD a withering stare.]
GARY(Continues):
Remember? I read that article to you, Phyl? About the chemicals used in North Korea?
HOWARD:
No, no, I didn’t say that. I said that we’ve been told our patented chemicals that were used in WWII helped shorten that war, but not that we—
GARY:
He’s too modest. But you remember me reading it to you how the Chinese claimed—I think it was last year—that the US used chemical warfare in North Korea. Of course, the US denied it.
HOWARD:
Now-now! Since WWII, we’ve only used our patented chemicals to protect American crops against pests.
GARY:
Yeah, between your mouth and the common man's ears. Anyway, the important thing, Phyl … we are in the home of the CEO of a Fortune 500 company.
TOLOACHE:
(Glaring at HOWARD)
Who’d have thought that would be in the article?
GARY:
Oh. That article? No, no, it wasn’t ….
TOLOACHE:
Oh … Hmmmmm.
[Both men return, drinks in hand]
GARY:
I figure just one wouldn’t hurt.
PHYLLIS:
Of course not. One never does.
[[ Note to Reader: At this point, the script would indicate to the stage crew to begin the Pineapple Rag tune very softly. Would you, dear reader, humor me and start the Youtube video now (and only at 25 % volume, so it will sound like it’s "piped" into the room). It should only last a little over 3 minutes. Thank you … and while you're up, get your free bag of popcorn from the lobby. We'll wait for you.]]
[Scott Joplin piano music drifts through the room. At first, GARY and PHYLLIS are stunned, then glance about the room.]
PHYLLIS:
(Tapping her feet bobbing her head)
I was looking for speakers. That music’s so much fun.
GARY:
People of this caliber wouldn’t have those big bulky things spoiling the symmetry. Probably hidden in the couch somewhere, Right, Howard? Like the buzzer?
HOWARD:
Technology. It’s an amazing world we live in.
(Sitting down; looks to PHYLLIS, smiling)
Well, now … So, Gary’s really Robin Craddock. Toley’s an acting coach. I run a chemical business …. What do you do, Phyllis?
PHYLLIS:
(Still tapping her feet)
I’ve been dabbling with paint for years.
GARY:
Don’t let her kid you.
(Taking a large swig from his glass)
She’s good. She’s very good.
HOWARD:
(Pointing to the wall, stage right, near the door they entered by)
Did you notice the painting?
TOLOACHE:
Oh that ... he just had his people hang it this morning.
HOWARD:
That’s beside the point, Darling … It’s cubist, at any rate.
PHYLLIS:
(Twisting in her chair to look behind her)
Oh, my! I know that piece. A Mexican cubist living in New York. Jorge … Jorge …
(Snapping her fingers)
Jorge … Dorado. And that’s … Midnight Ministry, I believe.
HOWARD:
Might be. I bought it at auction My broker told me it would be a good investment. But I think I bid too high.
TOLOACHE:
You might as well ask, Phyllis. He’s not going to drop the subject till you do.
(Gives HOWARD a broad wink, to which he returns a frown)
Darling, do you think it’s about time we give Clarinetta a buzz?
HOWARD:
(Poises his finger over the button)
You’re sure we’ve exhausted our little visit? Gary? Phyllis?
(Beat)
Or you, Toley?
(Pushes the button)
PHYLLIS:
It’s like a build-up of suspense. I really am anxious to meet Cornelius.
GARY:
See if he’s a chip off the old block?
HOWARD:
What do you mean by that?
GARY:
Woh-Ooooh!
(Holds up both hands in mock defense)
You know … How far the acorn falls from the oak. Your dad worked on the Ford factory assembly line. And here you own an entire chemical factory. We’ll just see what kind of acorn you have in Cornelius.
[Three raps sound on the upstage right door and it opens for CLARINETTA.]
CLARINETTA:
You rang, Mr. Plumb?
HOWARD:
(Wearily)
The children. Did you bring the children?
CLARINETTA:
Yes, Sir. Mrs. Plumb said when you rang to bring the children.
HOWARD:
And I rang!
CLARINETTA:
Yes, Sir. They are here, Sir.
[CLARINETTA backs out and to the side, and CORNELIUS AND JENNIE stand in the doorway. CILILLA slips in before the door closes and stands beside CORNELIUS; she is unseen, of course, by everyone but CORNELIUS.]
PHYLLIS:
My, he is a handsome young man, right Gary?
GARY:
A regular Richie Rich.
(Downs the last of his drink)
[Waiting patiently for them to finish, CILILLA raises to her toes to speak in his ear]
CILILLA:
Remember the three words: “My pleasure, Sir,” to him. “My pleasure, ma’am,” to her.
(Beat)
Her hair covers her ears, Cornie, so focus on where the ear should be.
CORNELIUS:
(In a forced-whisper)
Ev-e-ry-one has eye-brows.
[JENNIE glances up at him, but doesn’t say anything]
CILILLA:
Oh, Sweetie … I'm too protective ... but you know best what you can do.
PHYLLIS:
Why are they just standing there, Toley?
TOLOACHE:
I have no idea.
[Without a word, HOWARD heads to the bar]
TOLOACHE:
(Watching him)
Of course, why wouldn’t he?
(To the kids)
Come on, Cornelius. Bring Jennie and come on over. Her Mama and Daddy want to meet you.
[CORNELIUS plods toward them, JENNIE at his side, his arms held stiff to his thighs, hands opening and closing.]
PHYLLIS:
Ohhhh, would you just look at him, Toley. He is so nervous.
(chuckling)
I could just eat him up!
TOLOACHE:
(Stealing a deep breath, and then to CORNELIUS)
Darling, won’t you say hello to the Jaxes?
PHYLLIS:
I am so happy to finally meet you, Cornelius.
CORNELIUS:
My plea-sure, M-ma'am.
TOLOACHE:
Wha-aat?
CORNELIUS:
(To his mother)
That—is not … right?
PHYLLIS:
You are a delight, Cornelius. Gary …Gary, meet Cornelius.
GARY:
I’m right beside you, dear.
(Beat)
Well, young man … how are you?
CORNELIUS:
My plea—No! … I—am good, sir.
GARY:
Well! I am pleased to meet you, young Cornelius.
CORNELIUS:
I am—I’m twelve … Sir. Pleased to … meet you, Sir.
PHYLLIS:
Isn’t that precious?
[HOWARD takes a few steps toward the group, then stops and delivers a puzzled look to TOLOACHE who appears to look straight through him before she turns with a smile to CORNELIUS]
TOLOACHE:
I was hoping you would show the Jaxes how much you enjoyed meeting them, Sweetheart, by playing something for them on the piano.
CORNELIUS:
Can I—p-play Chopin?
TOLOACHE:
That would be lovely, Dear.
PHYLLIS:
I love Chopin!
JENNIE:
Mama, can I sit on the piano bench with Cornie?
PHYLLIS:
Cornie! Oh, that’s so darned cute!
(gives Gary a look)
Oh, I don’t know, Dear, it might distract—
[CORNELIUS holds out his hand and JENNIE takes it]
PHYLLIS (Continues):
Well, I guess that answers that.
[CORNELIUS and JENNIE cross to the piano, downstage left, and slide onto the piano bench. Everyone’s eyes are on them.]
[[NOTE TO READER: For full effect, as you are watching, on the theater stage of your imagination, CORNELIUS playing Chopin with JENNIE smiling beside him, the JAXES in stunned silence, enrapt, TOLOACHE brushing away an occasional tear of pride, and even HOWARD stealing his way to the couch without ever taking his eyes off his son … To EXPERIENCE THIS ... actually click on the 2nd video and listen along (Make sure you've increased the volume to about 80 %). We’ll keep the stage curtains open, and the lights on. Thank you for not leaving the theater.]]
| Author Notes |
CHARACTERS:
Cornelius Plumb: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12. Stunningly attractive, his mother dresses him fashionably and impeccably. He is at a developmental crossroad, physically, mentally, and emotionally. His thoughts, when spoken, often broken, tend to end in an inflection. Movements Jerky. Cililla Queez: An outgrowth of Cornelius' mind, a replacement for his imaginary childhood mentor, Pidely-Poo; she is here to transition him through puberty and adolescence. She is shapelier than most of the girls and her demeanor is rather racy, like a pre-teen channeling a stripper, but she also feels deeply and abounds in wisdom. Howard Plumb: Cornelius's father; Enormously successful founder and C.E.O of a Fortune 500 company. Highly disciplined, he is emotionally distant from his wife and is embarrassed by his son. Toloache [Pron: Toh-loh-AH-chee] Plumb: Cornelius's mother; former off-Broadway actress and bit player in daytime soaps, she now owns a small, borderline-successful acting studio. She glows with love for her son and protects him with much the same fierce devotion and duty as a knight would protect his kingdom. Gary Jax: Jennie's father; a novelist, better known by his pen name, Robin Craddock, who had a successful series of rather racy romance novels that dried up when he went mainstream. Recently relocated his family to L A Phyllis Jax: Jennie's mother; housewife and very serious amateur painter. Jennie Jax: Cornelius's classmate, age 12, physically not yet blossomed. On the shy side, she is kind-hearted, but still a child and swayable. She likes Cornelius. Clarinetta: The Plumb family maid. A student in Toloache's acting studio, earning her tuition. # # # PLAY FOR FIRST MUSIC PROMPT. SET SPEAKER AT 25 % VOLUME PLAY FOR THE 2ND MUSIC PROMPT. PLAY AT 80 % VOLUME |
By Jay Squires
The Previous Scene, in a nutshell: Toloache and Howard meet in their living room with Gary and Phyllis Jax, the latter couple grieving in their own ways over the death of their son a month earlier. A great deal of anxiety and tension brew beneath the surface as the couples talk. After Cornelius and Jennie emerge from the Music room to join the grownups, Cornelius uses his new relationship strategy during his introduction to the Jaxes. Afterward, he astounds everyone with his piano playing as Jennie sits proudly by his side.
CHARACTERS DESCRIPTION: Found in "Author's Notes"
SETTING:
An early 1950s 8th-grade classroom. A prominence of charts and pictures of branches of government, portraits of presidents, and historical figures populate the walls. A large teacher’s desk sits CENTERSTAGE, right, and faces left. Student occupied desks are in the usual rows facing the teacher’s desk and extend back to stage left. The exit door is UPSTAGE right. An oversized clock is above the door.
Time: Spring, 1952; Wednesday, four days after the meeting of the Plumbs and the Jaxes.
At Rise: CILILLA sits atop JENNIE JAX’S unoccupied desk, facing CORNELIUS. His eyes are averted. The classroom, except for CORNELIUS AND CILILLA is in suspended animation and in shadow; MR. HINEY is sitting on the edge of his desk, his index finger extended toward his charges, interrupted, as he is, from the midst of making a point.
CILILLA:
It’s only been three days, Sweetie. I’m sure she just has a cold or something.
(With an upbeat smile)
You’re looking at my eyebrows, aren’t you, love?
CORNELIUS:
No. Huh-uh. Jen-nie is hooome. M-Mister Ja-ax did not l-l-like Cor-nie’s muuuusic.
CILILLA:
Nooooo, Sweeeetie, how can you think that?
CORNELIUS:
Cornie was … nerrr-vous. Cornie m-missed two notes.
CILILLA:
Silly, I was watching and they were spellbound. Everyone was spellbound, Sweetie. I was spellbound. Only you heard those notes. They … we all … heard perfection.
CORNELIUS:
No. Not per—not per-fection.
(Jabbing at his eyebrow)
L-L-Like—like this. All a … trick.
CILILLA:
Oh, love, I was teaching you a strategy, not a trick! There's a difference. People expect others to look into their eyes. When they don't, it makes them uncomfortable. It's the way they are, and we can't change that. So I gave you a strategy. You took it and refined it. And it works beautifully.
CORNELIUS:
No. A trick.
CILILLA:
Sweetie, it was a strategy. It was to make them more comfortable, while you avoid the pain of looking in their eyes.
CORNELIUS:
(Looking at CILILLA)
No.
CILILLA:
I know what you're doing. You refine it so brilliantly that someday you'll be able to look at their eyelids, upper and lower, without looking in their eyes.
CORNELIUS:
(Louder)
No—a trick. Jen-Jennie’s hooome.
CILILLA:
Listen to me, Sweetie—
CORNELIUS:
(His face twitching)
Jennie’s hooome … M-Mister Jax … he saw—the trick. He—he heard Cornie’s m-mis-takes.
(beat)
baaad mu-sic. H-h-he made Jennie st-stay hooome.
CILILLA:
Can you close your eyes, Sweetie, and go to the music?
CORNELIUS:
Baaad music.
CILILLA:
Find the good music. Now Sweetie. It’s there. There is so much beautiful music. Close your eyes and find the good, the beautiful music.
[Dutifully, CORNELIUS closes his eyes, but there is still an occasional twitch in his facial muscles.]
CILILLA (Continues):
The music in your head is like an ocean. Like a vast, shoreless ocean. And it’s like you are in a boat on that ocean. Can you see that, Cornie? Can you picture that? See yourself in a boat, a rowboat, with the oars inside? Just you afloat in the middle of the ocean of your music? This music you hear in your mind is different from the music you play on the piano, isn't it? Anyone who's listening can enjoy your piano’s music.
CORNELIUS:
Not M-mis-ter Jaaax.
CILILLA:
Oh, yes he did. He was absorbed—everyone was absorbed by the music that came out of that piano.
(beat)
But you can't let yourself forget ... as absorbing as your piano music is, it’s different from your mind’s music. Your mind’s music is very powerful—but private. No one else can hear your mind’s music. Sometimes I think I almost can, Cornie, but it’s really not the music; it’s something else I am feeling which is as beautiful as the music. That’s something special we share—through our ... our connection.
(A look of frustration compresses her lips)
Words! Okay ... Okay, it's like I am in another boat, nearby. A small boat, like yours, on that immense ocean of pure music.
CORNELIUS:
(His eyes remain closed, his face relaxed, his breathing easy.)
I want … to … staaay heeere.
CILILLA:
Oh, yes! I want to stay here, too. I need to stay here, too, Cornie, because there is an invisible cable that connects me—my boat—to yours. Life would be perfect for you if you could explore this great ocean of music, its expanse, and its depth, and translate this music of your mind to the piano. Wouldn’t it be beautiful if you could do this, Cornie? If it were all you had to do?
CORNELIUS:
(As through an elongated sigh)
Yeeeeeeees.
CILILLA:
Ahhh, yes. As long as it’s just your boat and mine on that shoreless ocean of your mind’s music, it’s perfect and peaceful and the music goes on and on without end. You can hear the music lapping against your boat. Or you can plunge your hand into the unexpected chill until the music invades your arm and chest—your entire body, oh, so very very completely.
[Here, his arm slips off his lap and hangs to his side, his hand slowly moving fore and aft; he brings his hand back to his lap and audibly sighs.]
CILILLA (Continues):
Oh, Cornelius, I can feel it too, right through the cable that connects us. I feel, for a fleeting moment, your joy and peace. And I am permitted to feel, just for one …sublime … instant, how all of you is absorbed by your oceanic mind of music.
(beat)
You know what, Cornelius? Listen to me, now .... If I were permitted to feel more than that one instant of your bliss … I know I would surely die. I know I would. I would be too close to something sacred. Only the truly innocent can be that close and not die. That’s why I need the cable.
CORNELIUS:
(Blissfully rocking forwards and back)
Ooocean … Muuusic.
CILILLA:
You need the cable, too, my sweet Cornelius. You need it every bit as much as I do, but for different reasons: sometimes, through the cable, I give you gentle persuasion. When I give a little twitch on the cable. That’s the direct instruction I give you at a time when there is no urgency and it doesn’t disrupt your music—oh, because the music is everything!
(Beat)
Cornelius, I am about to teach you the most important lesson. But before that, there is something you need to do. Cornelius … Sweet Cornelius … Keep your eyes closed; in just a moment, though, I’ll want you to open your eyes. And I won’t want you to look at my eyebrows. Because—listen to me, Cornelius—because I am a part of you, and because we are connected as two boats on the ocean ... it will be time for you to look directly into my eyes. You can do that because you will see and feel the same ocean of music that you are experiencing now.
CORNELIUS:
It—It will huuurt Cornie.
CILILLA:
Only if I’m lying to you. Only if everything I’ve told you has been a lie.
CORNELIUS:
(His eyes twitching, he emits something of a groan)
Oooooooooooh.
CILILLA:
I’ve never lied to you, Sweetie. Now ... open your eyes.
[With a flutter, CORNELIUS’S eyes open, and his whole body jolts]
CILILLA (Continues):
Steady … easy … stay with my eyes, Sweetie.
CORNELIUS:
(With his eyes locked on hers, in the passage of only a few moments, his body goes from rigidity to total release, and he utters almost orgasmically ...)
Yeeeeeees … Yeeeeeeessss! Uuuuuuuuum…
CILILLA:
Welcome home, Cornelius.
(Beat)
Now you can be so much more focused. You can look in my eyes because we are connected—and it’s lovely being connected, isn’t it? Someday, you'll be able to allow yourself to see what’s behind other people’s eyes. But only when you want to ...
(Beat)
Cornelius, a while ago, I told you that most of our lessons are tiny twitches on the cable.
CORNELIUS:
Twitches.
CILILLA:
Just a twitch. But there have been times, Cornie—there have been times when the cable was an alarm. When it was a warning. A time for readiness. Really. Maybe even for battle! And it might happen again. It won’t happen often, but it'll be when I jerk hard on that cable. And you'll feel it. It might be confusing to you, but it'll be necessary.
(beat)
Remember your confusion when they took you from Mr. Hiney’s room and put you in the music room? That was me yanking on your cable! I’m sorry for that, Sweetie, but someone—a now forever-nameless someone—was trying to snap the cable and climb into your boat. Someone who was once your friend, but whose name you’ve blessedly forgotten, wanted to possess your sweet, beautiful, innocent, musical mind.
CORNELIUS:
(Looking directly into CILILLA’S eyes and speaking in a voice that is clearly more fluid)
Jennie … was there…. Jennie was outside.
CILILLA:
Yes, that was when I yanked the hardest on your cable, Sweetie. I called on you to focus everything you had on Jennie because that other misguided force was trying to control your lovely mind.
CORNELIUS:
Jen-nie’s Cornie’s friend.
CILILLA:
Yes, she’s a good friend, Sweetie, but don’t go there yet. Not yet. Focus on my eyes.
(Beat)
I would like nothing more than to stay with you on this calm, deep and wide ocean of your music—just you and me—
CORNELIUS:
—and Jennie …
CILILLA:
Yes, you and me and Jennie, whose boat has nudged itself up against yours so that you can reach out for a while and hold it and keep it from drifting away. But … but Cornie … that's the point, Cornie! Don’t forget ...
(sighs)
... don't forget there will be two other boats, bolted together, never far away from Jennie. The Jaxes are in those two boats. There were three. They had just unbolted Jennie’s boat from theirs and that is why they are close by … so she can learn the tricks of navigating her boat without getting herself hurt. There is a cable linking her small boat to their bigger ones. Are you picturing that?
CORNELIUS:
Cornie’s hol-ding Jennie’s boat.
CILILLA:
Yes … but listen to me, Sweetie …
(She threads herself between the desks to arrive at the other side of CORNELIUS’S desk, where she kneels down, grasping one of his hands in hers. His eyes have never left hers, throughout)
Sweetie, a while ago, when I told you that our boats are on the ocean of your mind’s pure and perfect music—that’s true, Cornie, that’s absolutely true. But Sweetie, here is where you really need to focus. Here is where I’m yanking your cable with all my might.
[CORNELIUS stares, unblinking, into CILILLA’S eyes.]
CILILLA (Continues):
Our ocean of pure music, yours and mine—ours because I do not exist without you, and you absolutely need me as your navigator—our ocean, Sweetie, is shared—now hear me, Cornelius—is shared with thousands, millions, no, billions of other boats. And not one of the people on those boats recognizes, let alone understands, the purity and innocence of our music. In fact, some will think it's stupid. It will frighten some. Some will be angry. Try to make waves.
CORNELIUS:
(His eyes wavering from CILILLAS)
Cornie’s holding … Jennie’s boat. Why can’t …?
CHILLA:
No … You're not following—
CORNELIUS:
Why can’t Jen-nie get in—Cornies boat?
CHILLA:
No. No, Cornie. Because it’s just the way we’re made—the way we are. It’s why the Jaxes are in separate boats. It’s why your mother and father are in separate boats.
(Beat)
Do you know why not one of those people on those billions of boats recognizes our pure ocean of music?
(Beat)
Sweet darling, Cornelius, it is because the ocean is all things to all people. This vast ocean of music that you, in your boat, are afloat on is really the ocean of life. Life! Life experience for everyone! It is all that we have. It’s all that we are. It is all things. To all people.
CORNELIUS:
Cornie and Jennie—Cornie’s music makes … Jen-nie happy.
CILILLA:
(Running her fingers through her hair, she exhales through pouched-out cheeks)
Okay ... Jennie told you that?
CORNELIUS:
Noooo …
CILILLA:
That's okay ... What you’re feeling, then, is Jennie holding onto your boat, too. You’re holding onto each other’s boat.
(Beat)
For—for a while.
CORNELIUS:
(Visibly agitated)
Jen-nie smiles when—when Cornie plays.
CILILLA:
Oh, Cornie ... yes! Yes. The music you play makes her feel good inside. It’s the music you make come out of the piano. Please see the difference, Sweetie. It’s not the same as the music you have inside you. The music you have inside of you is personal. And in that form, it won’t let itself be shared.
(Beat)
You have been specially chosen to experience the depth and breadth of life in a kind of alphabet of-of tone and pitch and-and rhythm and harmony, and lots of other things, that no one else has ever experienced—or can ever experience in exactly the same way you do. And you don’t own that experience, Cornelius. If you can just focus, and try to grasp that. You may think you own it. You can move around all the parts of it in your mind, but you don’t own it. You can manipulate it, but you don’t own it. IT OWNS YOU, my Sweetie, and it’s very … very jealous.
CORNELIUS:
(Suddenly jerking his eyes away from CILILLA, and his voice reverts to his previous speech patterns)
No! Cornie d-doesn’t—like it. Cornie h-hates it. It’s a bul—it’s a bully!
CILILLA:
(In a calm voice)
Yes, but it’s a magnificent bully, isn’t it sweet Cornelius? It’s magnificently pure and beautiful. And you love it even when you hate it, don’t you Cornelius?
[CORNELIUS, his eyes closed and his head shaking defiantly]
CILILLA (Calmly continues):
You know I’m not saying anything you don’t already understand on some level, Cornelius, because I am from your mind—the navigating part of your mind—and that means I am part of that magnificent bully … just as you are, Sweet, Sweet Cornelius.
(Beat)
I know why you hate it, but I also know why you can’t stop loving it. And we both know why Jennie can’t be in your boat—
CORNELIUS:
But—But—No!
CILILLA:
Yes! For the same reason your Mama, who loves you so much, can’t be in your boat … why I can only navigate your boat through awkward twitches and jerks of the cable—but I can’t be in your boat.
(Beat)
If another were, somehow, to climb into your boat, it would throw it into imbalance and both of you would be tossed into that great, magnificent, hated-and-loved ocean—and both would surely drown.
CORNELIUS:
(In desperation and tears)
Wha-wha-what can Cornie d-dooooo?
CILILLA:
You know already, Sweetie. You do what you’re doing now; the only thing you can do: you hold on to Jennie’s boat as long as Jennie wants to hold on to your’s … or until her mother and father reel in her cable.
CORNELIUS:
Nooooooo.
CILILLA:
(Holding his hand and stroking it)
Sweetie, I don’t want that to happen. And you sure don’t want that to happen. But something inside you senses that can happen, and—and you’re blaming yourself for that possibility. Cornie, I can’t let you blame yourself for what life does.
[There is a timid knock on the door, followed by another, slightly louder. Stage lights come on full. MR. HINEY and the students “thaw” and MR. HINEY completes his point, giving a quick sideward glance at the door]
MR. HINEY:
…should know by now—and if you don’t know by know … heaven help you … that the United States Constitution—
(Turns his head to the third in a series of knocks at the door and addresses the girl at the desk nearest the door)
Susan, would you kindly see who that is?
SUSAN:
(Opening the door a crack and sticking her head out, then after a moment, closing the door and facing MR. HINEY)
It’s the student assistant from, um, Mr. Hallow’s office, Mr. Hiney—
MR. HINEY:
Spit it out, Susan!
SUSAN:
She’s waiting outside to take, um, Corn-Corn—
MR. HINEY:
Cornelius?
[She nods her head rapidly, scurries to her desk, and sits down]
MR. HINEY (Continues):
Cornelius, gather your things together and follow the young lady to Mr. Hallow's office.
[CORNELIUS stares helplessly in CILILLA'S eyes. It's as though they are communicating a hidden knowledge only they are privy to. Her shoulders slump. She slowly nods and gets up from where she was kneeling beside CORNELIUS'S desk. He rises, never taking his eyes off CILILLA'S. As CORNELIUS (with CILILLA, unseen, of course, beside him, her arm around his waist), crosses in front of MR. HINEY'S desk, CORNELIUS turns his head and looks fully in his teacher's face. MR. HINEY'S mouth drops open and stays open as his eyes follow CORNELIUS to the door.]
| Author Notes |
CHARACTERS:
CORNELIUS PLUMB: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12, in an era when little was known about autism, and one diagnosed as such was generally institutionalized. While he is highly dysfunctional on the social level, he is intellectually far advanced over his classmates, most of whom ignore him, but some of whom bully him and treat him unmercifully. When he speaks, it is in a clipped, non-fluid manner, but the content of his speech is generally uncensored. He is uncommonly handsome for a 12-year-old, well-groomed, and well-dressed. CILILLA QUEEZ: An apparent product of Cornelius's mind, there to guide him through a rough emotional patch. Only Cornelius can see Cililla. And while they are able to converse openly with each other, no one else is privy to these conversations. [This is accomplished by fading into shadow all but the two, who are in full light.] MR HINEY: 8th-grade teacher. He's got some emotional problems that, unfortunately, he's working through while teaching his students. SUSAN: A student. |
By Jay Squires
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
| Author Notes |
CHARACTERS (Not all of whom appear in this scene):
Toloache [Pron: Toh-loh-AH-chee] Plumb: Cornelius's mother; former off-Broadway actress and bit player in daytime soaps, she now owns a small, borderline-successful acting studio. She glows with love for her son and protects him with much the same fierce devotion and duty as a knight would protect his kingdom. Phyllis Jax: Jennie's mother; housewife and very serious amateur painter. Mr. Hallows: Principal of Zachary Taylor Middle School. Age 45. A true empath. He understands Cornelius from within the social and educational construct better than anyone. Is there a dark, troubling secret to which the administration and he are privy? Cornelius Plumb: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12. He is uncommonly handsome, well-groomed, well-dressed. His speech is clipped, with a beat, between each word, as though he is forcing himself to slow the flood of experiences bubbling from inside. Cililla Queez: An apparent product of Cornelius' mind, there to guide him through a rough emotional patch. Only Cornelius can see Cililla. And while they are able to converse openly with each other, no one else is privy to these conversations. [This is accomplished by fading into shadow all but the two, who are in full light.] Thanks to Jason Rosewell on Unsplash for the photo. |
By Jay Squires
Thumbnail sketch of the previous chapter: Toloache and Phyllis are in Mr. Hallows's office to decide how, when, and where they should tell Cornelius about Jennie’s abduction by her own father. Phyllis, who has hired one of the best private investigators in L.A. to find her daughter, is an emotional wreck. They finally decide to tell Cornelius in the office, and Mr. Hallows has an aide go to fetch him from his class.
Two critical notes for readers: First, to new readers: It’s important to keep in mind that Cililla is an actualized part of Cornelius’s deeper mind. No one but Cornelius can hear Cililla’s words. Second note to all readers: Some may complain that this scene is heavy with stage direction, light with dialogue. There can be no other way for this inexperienced playwright to envision bringing it off. What may take 20 minutes to read, would take the actors, if they fully heed these directions, 10 minutes to act out. But their success would come as much out of what they didn’t say as what they did.
CHARACTERS DESCRIPTION: Found in “Author’s Notes”
SETTING: The principal’s office. Large desk, center stage, facing left. His desktop has a look of controlled clutter. Two-tiered tray with papers hanging over the edge. Several stacks of papers. A box of tissues with a sheet protruding. A Large book, probably a dictionary, to the side, next to an intercom box. Two chairs face the desk. Centerstage left, on a small circular table, a sizeable ebony Buddha sits. On the floor beside the Buddha table, a white vase holds a lily. Upstage, on the wall, a floor-to-ceiling cubist, or another modernistic, rendering of Jesus with pierced palms spread. Upstage right, a door. A few chairs line that wall.
Time: Spring, 1952.
At Rise: MR. HALLOWS, TOLOACHE, and PHYLLIS sit staring intensely at the door, upstage right. This staring should go on uninterruptedly, save for the two women occasionally glancing at each other, then back to the door. This silent period should be long enough that the audience begins to get fidgety in anticipation. There is a rapping at the door followed by it opening enough for the student assistant to stick her head in.
STUDENT AIDE:
(Nervously)
Umm… I have Cornelius for you, Mr. Hallows.
MR. HALLOWS:
(Standing)
Thank you, Miss Gagliagni, I’ll be right there.
[He crosses to the door and opens it wide. Immediately, CILILLA slips past him. Her eyes sweep the physical aspects and the mood of the room like a good general would the battlefield, or a comedian his audience. She looks first at the concerned TOLOACHE, then at PHYLLIS, whose recent tears do not escape CILILLA’S assessment. Then she looks up at the smiling MR. HALLOWS, whose eyes are focused on CORNELIUS, still waiting (out of view of the audience) in the hallway]
MR. HALLOWS (Continues):
Please … come in Cornelius.
CILILLA:
(Craning her neck to look back into the hallway)
You can come in, Sweetie. Be calm.
[CORNELIUS comes through the doorway but stops just inside, looking toward his mother and Jennie’s mother. Then his eyes begin to dart about the room.]
MR. HALLOWS:
(Snatching one of the chairs that line the wall)
Your mom stopped by to see you, son, along with … with Mrs. Jax.
TOLOACHE:
(Rising from her chair, she crosses to CORNELIUS her arms spread to embrace him, her voice strained in an effort to be casual)
Hi, Sweetheart.
(Hugging his rather rigid body)
I—we just stopped by to—to talk to you, Darling.
CILILLA:
(standing beside CORNELIUS, leaning toward him, on her toes)
Try to relax, Sweetie-pie. You’re in your rowboat, on the ocean. Remember? Just relax.
MR. HALLOWS:
(Placing the chair alongside the desk, facing TOLOACHE’S chair)
Well. Okay!
(Clapping his hands, and holding them clasped together)
Here we are. Why don’t you just have a seat, son—I believe you met—um … Mrs. Jax … um, the other night?
CORNELIUS:
(Staring intently at her eyebrows)
How—do you do? Mrs. Jax?
PHYLLIS:
(Tenderly, but with a tinge of irony)
How do I do? Oh, Cornelius …
(keeping her composure)
… you are so precious!
CORNELIUS:
(His eyes, unlinking from her brows, rove the room)
Where’s Jen-nie!?
TOLOACHE:
Baby!
[CILILLA, aside, frantically tugs an imaginary cable]
CORNELIUS:
Cornelius m-missed two—n-notes.
PHYLLIS:
Notes … what?
CORNELIUS:
Mr. Jax … he heard—Cornelius’s mis-mistakes.
TOLOACHE:
(Sotto Voce, To a perplexed PHYLLIS)
He means when he played for us.
(Then to CORNELIUS)
Baby! No! You played beautifully!
PHYLLIS:
You were perfection, Darling!
CORNELIUS:
Noooo! No, no! Cornelius’s fingers were—sweat-ting. Mr. Jax—he knew.
PHYLLIS:
Knew what? What …? Why?
CORNELIUS:
Then —wh-where’s—Jen-nie?
[While PHYLLIS and TOLOACHE cautiously murmer (extemporaneously) out of their confusion and fear of dealing with his rising emotion; CILILLA finds space between them and CORNELIUS and bends to look directly at him.]
CILILLA:
Sweetie … Cornelius … Sweetie-pie, you’re in your boat … you’re on the peaceful ocean now. Remember? Like we talked about? Relax with it, Sweetie … Relaaaax.
CORNELIUS:
(Suddenly and loudly, prompting CILILLA to pull back and slip out from her position between them, to stand beside CORNELIUS)
No, no! No ocean. Mr. Jax—Mr. Jax, he pulled Jen-nie’s boat—away. C-Cornelius c-c-couldn’t hold on. Muuus-ic is baaad. Ocean is baaad.
[MR. HALLOWS, who had, throughout, been showing increasing concern, rises from his desk and moves to stand behind CORNELIUS, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. PHYLLIS, trying to be inconspicuous, pulls another tissue from the box and holds it to her nose and mouth, eyes closed, head down.]
CORNELIUS (Continues):
(his stammering pronounced)
C-C-Cornelius w-waants Jen-nie. Jen-nie t-t-trades s-sandwich.
(uncharacteristically smiles, briefly, eyes brimming; then adds,)
Doesn’t—d-doesn’t like p-p-peanut-b-butter and—and je-lly.
PHYLLIS:
(Shaking, crying, but trying to control it.)
Oh, God! Jeee-sus!
CORNELIUS:
Why is Mrs. Jax—c-c-crying?
(Voice rising in pitch)
W-why …? Why …? W-where …?
(Pulling his shoulders away from MR. HALLOWS’ hands, he scrambles to his feet)
W-where’s J-Jen-neeeeee! Nooooooo!
[In the ensuing confusion, TOLOACHE stands, her body rocking toward her son then away, confounded, stunned to silence; PHYLLIS, fully sobbing now, hides her face in tissue; MR. HALLOWS glances from one to the other of them and then trains his eyes on CORNELIUS who turns and lumbers upstage toward the wall on which the picture of Jesus hangs; CILILLA follows behind him, reaching for him, then pulling her arms back]
CILILLA:
(To CORNELIUS’S back)
This is getting you nowhere, Sweetie. Don’t you see …? You’re only listening to your voice, and it’s filled with your own doubts about yourself and your fears about Jennie. And neither are connected. Do you hear me, Sweetie? They’re just not connected. You’re standing up in your rowboat now, and it’s rocking, dear … the two fears are not connected. You’re going to fall out of your boat and drown!
CORNELIUS:
(Turning to CILILLA, his voice intense)
Then. Where. Is. Jennn-eeeee!?
CILILLA:
Why, Sweetie, don’t you see? You haven’t let anyone tell you where Jennie is. You’re only listening to your own voice.
(Beat)
Listen to my voice, Cornie. My voice. It’s coming from a better place in you. Be still, and listen.
(Coupling her arm in his, she gently leads him in the direction of the others)
You need to go back, Cornie; go back and sit down. In your chair ... and in your boat. And you must be calm, Sweetie. Be calm and … and just let them tell you where Jennie is. They will tell you if you just let them. Can you do that, Cornie?
CORNELIUS:
Let them—t-tell Cornie. Yes. Yes.
TOLOACHE:
(Puzzled, watches CORNELIUS sit, then looks helplessly at MR. HALLOWS, lifting her shoulders to her ears, then dropping them)
Let who, Darling? Tell you what?
[After a long, uncomfortable pause, CORNELIUS looks over at CILILLA]
CILILLA:
I understand, Cornie, but you must be patient. They will tell you.
CORNELIUS:
(Looking at his mother’s eyebrows)
Jen-nie w-was w-with me—on the-the piano bench.
CILILLA:
Watch out, Sweetie, you’re starting to slip back there again.
TOLOACHE:
(Struggling to control her emotions)
I know, honey. Mama knows. You really like Jennie, don’t you?
CORNELIUS:
Oh! Ohhhh!
PHYLLIS:
(Suddenly regaining her self control)
Oh, Sweetheart! You lovely, lovely boy—I promise you, Cornelius, Jennie—your friend, Jennie—is coming back to you.
[Both MR. HALLOWS and TOLOACHE shoot PHYLLIS a cautionary glance while CORNELIUS turns back to CILILLA with a rare, fleeting smile; the last vestiges of which remain on his lips as he turns back and focuses on PHYLLIS’S eyebrows]
PHYLLIS (Continues):
… You see, Mr. Jax decided, after our visit with your mama and daddy, that he needed to return to our old home in New Mexico to pick up and bring back some things. He decided to take Jennie with him at the last minute—to make it a kind of vacation.
(She pauses to press her wadded tissue into each eye socket)
I know Jennie didn’t want to go, Sweetheart. You have to understand that. She’d much rather have spent the time with you …and-and me … but she has an aunt there, Aunt Fawnelle, my sister, who really loves Jennie, too, and misses her an awful lot since she moved here. But I promise you …
(Beat)
Jennie will be back very soon—in a few days—in a week at the most.
[CORNELIUS can’t contain himself: much to the chagrin of the others, who have never seen him like this before, and stare at him open-mouthed, he bounces up and down in his chair, laughing and crying at the same time, slapping his open palms against his thighs.]
CORNELIUS:
Jen-nie's com-ming baaaack!
PHYLLIS:
(Deeply moved by what she’s watching, she lays her open palm on her breast)
Oh, Cornelius, Cornelius! I know how Aunt Fawnelle feels. I want—Oh Cornelius—it would be so sweet if—if you would let me be your Aunt, too … even if it’s make-believe. Won’t you let me be your Aunt Phyllis?
(Opening her arms to him, half-rising, leaning across TOLOACHE, who scoots her chair back and smiles encouragingly at CORNELIUS, who stops his bouncing and looks toward PHYLLIS, a trace of a smile still on his face)
CILILLA:
(As an aside, less to CORNELIUS, but more the sudden expression of an epiphany, she shakes a fist in the air in victory)
As make-belief! Yes!
(Then leaning toward CORNELIUS)
See how much she needs this, Sweetie? Can you lean in and let her hug you? Oh, do it, Cornie. Even if it feels uncomfortable, do it, Cornie. Do it. Please.
[CORNELIUS slowly stands and awkwardly leans in toward PHYLLIS, letting her wrap her arms around him.]
CILILLA (Continues):
Now, put your arms around her, too. It’s not hard. Do it, Sweetie, Put your arms around her and then relax, Cornie. That’s right, Cornie, keep your arms there until she pulls back. Then, you let go.
[CORNELIUS follows CILILLA’S instructions, only releasing PHYLLIS when she pulls away, grinning, her head at a slight cant. Meanwhile, CILILLA is doing a victory dance about the room. She stops when she notices the rather pained expression on TOLOACHE’S face as she watches her son.]
CILILLA (Continues):
I know someone else who would like one of your special hugs, Sweetie. Why not give your Mama a hug? She may need it even more. Hold out your arms to your Mama, Sweetie.
[What follows is a special moment: CORNELIUS holds out his arms, TOLOACHE relaxes into them. Their embrace is long, and it is attended by MR. HALLOWS’ and PHYLLIS’S, restrained, but tear-filled, compassion. When mother and son reach that intuitive moment when one feels it is time to let go, TOLOACHE makes a slight, but perceivable, move to release, but CORNELIUS continues to hold onto her. The initial recognition, and the following intimacy, is expressed in TOLOACHE’S face. The stage lights dim.]
END OF SCENE 15
| Author Notes |
Toloache [Pron: Toh-loh-AH-chee] Plumb: Cornelius's mother; former off-Broadway actress and bit player in daytime soaps, she now owns a small, borderline-successful acting studio. She glows with love for her son and protects him with much the same fierce devotion and duty as a knight would protect his kingdom.
Phyllis Jax: Jennie's mother; housewife and very serious amateur painter. Mr. Hallows: Principal of Zachary Taylor Middle School. Age 45. A true empath. He understands Cornelius from within the social and educational construct better than anyone. Is there a dark, troubling secret to which the administration and he are privy? Cornelius Plumb: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12. He is uncommonly handsome, well-groomed, well-dressed. His speech is clipped, with a beat, between each word, as though he is forcing himself to slow the flood of experiences bubbling from inside. Cililla Queez: An apparent product of Cornelius' mind, there to guide him through a rough emotional patch. Only Cornelius can see Cililla. And while they are able to converse openly with each other, no one else is privy to these conversations. [This is accomplished by fading into shadow all but the two, who are in full light.] Miss Gagliagni: Teacher's Aide Thanks to Jason Rosewell on Unsplash for the photo. |
By Jay Squires
Thumbnail Sketch of the Previous Scene: Cornelius is escorted by the school aide to Mr. Hallows's office. Cililla is with him. Upon seeing his mother and Mrs. Jax there, Cornelius is led to his seat. Urged on by Mr. Hallows, he Looks at Mrs. Jax's eyebrows and says "How—do you do, Mrs. Jax," but follows it with, "Where's Jennie?" Not getting an answer, he begins to express his obsessive idea that it was because of his piano playing that Mr. Jax was keeping Jennie from him. He begins to unravel and wanders the room asking, "Where's Jennie?" Cililla manages to bring him under control and urges him back to his seat. Trying to calm him, Phyllis Jax creates a fictional account of how Jennie went with her father to New Mexico to bring back some supplies from their previous home and .promises that Jennie will return within a week. Cornelius can't contain his happiness, bouncing about on his seat, with an uncharacteristic grin on his face. Wanting to extend the joy of the moment, Mrs. Jax asks Cornelius for a hug: Cililla is there to convince him to do it. Noticing the look on his mother's face, Cililla urges him to give his mother a hug as well. He does, and when Toloache realizes the hug has gone its course and tries to pull back, Cornelius continues hugging her.
CHARACTERS DESCRIPTION: Found in “Author’s Notes”
SETTING: Phyllis Jax’s modest apartment, clean, uncluttered, only modestly furnished. On the wall, a family portrait, painted by Phyllis Jax in which her now-deceased son is included. There is a flowered, upholstered couch (typical of the 50s) and an identically upholstered armchair facing it. Next to the couch is an end table with a telephone, message pad, and pen on it.
Time: Spring, 1952
At Rise: TOLOACHE and PHYLLIS occupy the small couch. They are staring straight ahead at the painting on the wall. A coffee table separates them from MR. HALLOWS, sitting in the armchair, contorting his body to look at the same painting.
TOLOACHE:
(With just a slight edge of cool distance to her voice)
You’ve got an astounding talent, Phyllis. … And that—was your son?
PHYLLIS:
Yes.
TOLOACHE:
The cut of his jaw. The way he stands—he’s the spitting image of Gary.
PHYLLIS:
Ohhhhh, I miss him so much, Toley.
TOLOACHE:
I know you do, Phyl.
MR. HALLOWS:
Good looking lad.
[There follows one of those prolonged silences that occurs when an uncomfortable subject has been exhausted.]
PHYLLIS:
I’m glad you could come.
(Frowning down at her hands in her lap, she takes a deep breath and looks up at TOLOACHE)
Toley, you were right not taking me home from Mr.—from Jeff’s office, Wednesday.
TOLOACHE:
(Looking everywhere but at PHYLLIS)
Well, it would have been a disaster after what you … said.
MR. HALLOWS:
I didn’t mind taking you, Phyllis.
PHYLLIS:
It was kind of you Jeff … but that’s still not the point.
(Beat)
Toley, I just want to say—
TOLOACHE:
(Flattening both palms in front of PHYLLIS’S face)
No, Phyllis, don't say any more!
PHYLLIS:
You’ve got to let me apologize, Toley!
TOLOACHE:
No, I don't! I’ve already put out the fire, damn it! and I don’t want to be digging through the ashes with you now.
PHYLLIS:
What I said to him was stupid.
TOLOACHE:
Yes, it was!
TOLOACHE:
Excuse me—you keep saying you know. I know! I know! Geez, I know! But I don’t think you do know. He’s not like other kids. He’s not resilient. He won’t bounce back.
PHYLLIS:
Of course, Toley—and I feel horrible about it. You have every right to be furious.
(To MR. HALLOWS)
That’s why I invited you over here tonight, Jeff—Toley and you. I wanted to apologize face-to-face, not over the phone. I let everyone down. The only one I can’t apologize to is Cornelius. And—and ironically, he’s the one I owe the biggest apology to.
TOLOACHE
Jesus, Phyl, it’s not a question of you apologizing or about us accepting it.
(Touches PHYLLIS’S forearm)
Phyllis, I do know the strain you’re under. All three of us know that the promise you made was as much for you as for Cornelius, right? Well, wasn’t it? You convince yourself that by saying it, it’s gonna happen …
(Shaking her head in response to PHYLLIS’S head bobbing in agreement)
but damn it all! Cornelius is counting the days. What if she doesn't come back in a few days? Or a week?
(Beat)
What if she doesn't come back, Phyl? What if she does not ... come ... back?
MR. HALLOWS:
Toley!
TOLOACHE:
Oh, God! I didn't mean it that way! Phyllis ... that was stupider than what you are trying to apologize for.
MR. HALLOWS:
(Blanketing TOLOACHE’S burst of emotion)
So … So—now listen, Toley. I know you’re of two warring minds: one who wants to forgive Phyllis, but—but the other which has to deal with daily realities.
TOLOACHE:
Don’t say “has to” like it’s something I dread.
MR. HALLOWS:
(Quickly)
I know—we do know that, Toley … Phyllis and I know.
TOLOACHE:
It’s not been easy, but it’s something I’ve accepted from day one… wholeheartedly.
MR. HALLOWS:
And you’ve done a smashing job of it, Toley. The lad couldn’t have gotten where he is today without you being a kind of … what? A guardian at—at the gate of his mind.
TOLOACHE:
Well, that seems kind of—I don’t know—dramatic.
MR. HALLOWS:
But you are! Listen, you’ve had to be … but in the office there, when Phyllis kind of sneaked past your defenses …
(Placating)
Innocently, but, but still—with her promise—well … it’s understandable.
| Author Notes |
TOLOACHE [Pron: Toh-loh-AH-chee] PLUMB: Cornelius's mother; former off-Broadway actress and bit player in daytime soaps, she now owns a small, borderline-successful acting studio. She glows with love for her son and protects him with much the same fierce devotion and duty as a knight would protect his kingdom.
PHYLLIS JAX: Jennie's mother; a housewife, married to an unstable novelist, Gary Jax, who has recently abducted their daughter and moved to New Mexico. JEFF HALLOWS: Principal of Zachary Taylor Middle School. Age 45. A true empath. He understands Cornelius from within the social and educational construct better than anyone. Is there a dark, troubling secret to which the administration and he are privy? CORNELIUS PLUMB: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12. He is uncommonly handsome, well-groomed, well-dressed. His speech is clipped, with a beat, between each word, as though he is forcing himself to slow the flood of experiences bubbling from inside. His best friend is Jennie. CILILLA QUEEZ: An actualized part of Cornelius's deeper mind, there to guide him through rough emotional patches. Only Cornelius can see and hear Cililla. Thanks to Jason Rosewell on Unsplash for the photo. |
By Jay Squires
| Author Notes |
CORNELIUS PLUMB: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12. He is uncommonly handsome, well-groomed, well-dressed. His speech is clipped, with a beat, between each word, as though he is forcing himself to slow the flood of experiences bubbling from inside. His best friend is Jennie.
CILILLA QUEEZ: An actualized part of Cornelius's deeper mind, there to guide him through rough emotional patches. Only Cornelius can see and hear Cililla. JENNIE JAX: Cornelius's classmate, age 12, physically not yet blossomed. Emotionally tossed and turned by events in her young life. On the shy side, she is kind-hearted, but still a child and swayable. She has been attracted to Cornelius from the beginning. Much gratitude for the photo by Daniel on Upsplash |
By Jay Squires
[Note to reader: This is long. But it comes with a promise: if you let it take you all the way to the end, you’ll leave it loving our Cornelius.]
The Previous Scene in a nutshell: The two friends, Cornelius and Jennie, are in their favorite place in the schoolyard, communicating in their way. Jennie explains her Dad is dead and her Aunt Fawnelle brought her in the middle of the night back to California. At Cililla’s bidding Cornelius shows his compassion by holding Jennie’s hands. When Cililla sees Jennie’s response threatened to get out of hand she convinces Cornelius to divert Jennie's attention by telling her that he has agreed to play the piano at their graduation.
CHARACTERS DESCRIPTION: Found in “Author’s Notes”
SETTING: Interior of the school auditorium. Only the front three rows of seats are shown facing the stage, an aisle separating them and ending with three steps leading to the stage. [Behind these three actor-occupied rows, is the actual seating for the playgoers.] Onstage, three rows of chairs, stage left, face three rows of chairs stage right, with a walkway between. The rows of chairs on either side are curved, similar to an archer’s bow, so that the children occupying them can be seen by their parents. Behind these chairs, Upstage Center is a raised platform on which a grand piano dominates. Downstage center, a microphone faces the parents. A dozen lovely arrangements of flowers in lavish vases are evenly spaced on the stage’s periphery, on either side of the microphone.
Time: Spring, 1952, evening: auditorium just beginning to fill.
At Rise: TOLOACHE is in the second row, two currently unoccupied seats from the aisle; HOWARD is to her right, dressed to the nines, casting his eyes about, looking arrogantly bored. PHYLLIS, front row and one seat removed from the aisle, is turned, talking over the seat-back to TOLOACHE. Men and women, sitting across the aisle in the first three rows, show all the animation of people just arriving, chattering, calling out to friends just entering.
PHYLLIS:
They all look so cute in their blue robes, don’t they? Boys on one side, girls on the other. Just like school dances.
(Indicating the empty seats next to TOLOACHE with a tilt of her head)
Folks shouldn’t be able to reserve their seats with their programs.
TOLOACHE:
I’d have saved them for you myself, but I didn’t know if Jennie’d be sitting with you.
PHYLLIS:
No, she’s up there; see her? Jeff—Mr. Hallows—is letting her graduate with the rest of the kids. Just no diploma inside the envelope until she passes the constitution test.
TOLOACHE:
That’s good—means a lot to a kid.
PHYLLIS:
She’s been working so hard at those books—like it’s a regular nine to five.
TOLOACHE:
I’ll bet.
PHYLLIS:
She could pass it now … but she says she has to be sure. You know.
TOLOACHE:
I know.
(Beat)
Are you okay, Phyl?
PHYLLIS:
(Starts nodding rapidly, eyes tightly closed; then after a sigh that seems to take all the air out of her, she slowly begins shaking her head, side to side)
No. Toley … no. Gary should be here. She’s our daughter. Why’d he have to be so selfish?!
TOLOACHE:
Maybe … Maybe it all just—I don’t know, just wore him out.
PHYLLIS:
We all get tired … that was just selfish.
TOLOACHE:
(As though studying her)
Does—does Jennie know?
PHYLLIS:
She’ll never know, Toley. To her, he just died in his sleep.
TOLOACHE:
The poor baby!
PHYLLIS:
It’s better this way. He died in his sleep.
(Beat)
But listen to me! Tonight’s a happier occasion, Toley! Tonight’s for the kids.
(Turning, rather distractedly, to the stage)
And, look at our Cornie, there! So handsome, and so dapper-looking. You and Howard—hi, Howard!—you two have to be so proud. Are you nervous about tonight?
TOLOACHE:
About his playing? No, not once he starts. But so much can happen …
(Starts fiddling with her necklace, then her sweater sleeves)
… between now and when Jeff announces him.
PHYLLIS:
(Turning back toward CORNELIUS)
He’ll be fine, Toley. He’s cute as a bug’s ear. He’s sitting so tall and proud.
[While PHYLLIS and TOLOACHE look at CORNELIUS, CILILLA, her hair in a pixie-cut and of every color in the rainbow, clad in a daring mini-skirt, high heels, and a colorful cutaway blouse, exposing her midriff, threads her way down the row of seats to get to CORNELIUS. Of course, none of the other boys can see her as she stands directly in front of his chair and looks down at him]
CILILLA:
Should have put a bug in Mr. Hallows’ ear to place an empty chair next to you so you wouldn’t be staring into my belly button.
(Glancing right and left)
Oh, well, I’m nothing if not enterprising.
[With that, she settles down in the lap of the boy sitting next to CORNELIUS; then, seeing CORNELIUS’S mouth drop open and his eyes get as big as quarters as his head jerks first to her, then to the face of the boy on whose lap she is sitting, she's quick to remind him]
CILILLA (Continues):
He doesn’t know, Sweetie-pie. He doesn’t know. Remember, only you can see and hear me.
PHYLLIS:
What do you suppose that was all about?
TOLOACHE:
I haven’t a clue. Maybe the boy said something to him.
BOY:
(In a subdued, but angry voice)
Why d’you keep looking at me—dummy?
[General chittering and barely contained laughter on the boys’ side follows]
CORNELIUS:
Sorr-reey …
CILILLA:
It’s because you’re looking at me, Cornie … Okay? Got that, Sweetie, just look straight ahead, not at me.
BOY:
(Buoyed up by his peers, but his voice still modulated, so as not to be heard by the mothers and fathers in the audience)
You’d better be sorry, dum-dum.
CILILLA:
Ignore him, Sweetie. Just look straight ahead and listen to me.
PHYLLIS:
(Turning back to TOLOACHE)
Well, I couldn’t see if Cornelius said anything, but I didn’t like the look on that other little boy’s face. Did you hear any—?
TOLOACHE:
I’m not sure. I thought that—no, I’m sure everything’s going to be fine.
HOWARD:
(Standing, bending down to TOLOACHE and PHYLLIS, but his eyes roving the seated parents)
Well, I’m not fine! I heard him. We don’t need this. He doesn’t need to be made a spectacle of in front of all these people!
TOLOACHE:
(Through the teeth of a fierce smile)
Sit your ass down, Howard. No one’s taking my boy off the stage!
HOWARD:
(Quickly sitting, but then rising again)
Stay if you wish. I don’t have to watch it. I’m going outside for a smoke. I’ll see you in the lobby when it’s over.
(Crosses in front of TOLOACHE, and exits up the aisle)
CILILLA:
Keep looking straight ahead, Sweetie. I’m sorry, Love. I didn’t anticipate any of this happening. Now …
(Beat)
We need to cover a couple of things … When Mr. Hallows calls on you to play the piano, and you are up there, just stay in the deep ocean of your music. Everything’s going to be beautiful. Because you’re beautiful. They’re going to love it.
(Beat)
And I think that just about … No! When you’ve finished, and all the people applaud, you may want to rush back to your chair. But don’t, okay? So, stand there in front of the piano until the applause dies. Then, I want you to bow. Nice and long, from the waist. I know you can do that.
[MR. HALLOWS emerges from Stage Left and proceeds to the microphone.]
CILILLA (Continues):
I’m leaving now, Sweetie-pie. We’ll talk later.
(She gets off the boy’s lap, straightens her mini-skirt, then looks down on CORNELIUS)
Now, Cornie, Sweetie, no one can see me, and you must keep looking straight ahead, but I want to give you a little kiss on the cheek for good luck.
(She gives him the promised kiss, and then sidles out the row and exits Stage Left)
MR. HALLOWS:
(Taps mic)
Parents, siblings, and friends of the graduates of Zachary Taylor Middle School …
(Turning and sweeping both arms toward the graduates like a symphony conductor)
… and the honorees: the eighth-grade graduating class of 1952, I hope everyone is as proud as I am, as your principal, of your achievement. After tonight’s ceremony, you young men and women will have earned the right to address me to my face as Mr. Hals.
(Facing front again, with a smile, confidentially)
... since it’s the name you’ve been using all along among your friends.
(Beat)
I must ask, however, that parents and seventh-graders still address me as Mr. Hallows.
[There is general laughter among the audience and the graduates. TOLOACHE and PHYLLIS trade smiles.]
MR. HALLOWS (Continues):
Before I pass out the diplomas and you all leave here to get your celebratory ice cream, I would like you to enjoy tonight’s entertainment. Won’t you join me in welcoming a young man from our very own eighth-grade graduating class, Cornelius Plumb?
[The audience applauds while his fellow graduates exchange puzzled looks. CORNELIUS stands, and as he passes in front of the boys, one covertly pinches his leg. CORNELIUS covers it with his hand, and his face distorts in pain, but he continues on. Instead of turning toward the piano, he walks stiffly to MR. HALLOWS, who, covering the mic, bends down and inclines his ear to him.]
MR. HALLOWS (Continues):
(Straightening up and looking at the girl graduate group)
Certainly, if she’s willing ...
(Beat)
Jennie Jax, would you care to join Cornelius on the piano bench?
[Puzzled eyes in the girls' group turn to JENNIE. She appears flustered, looking about with a half-smile, but she stands and makes her way through the row. CORNELIUS joins her in the aisle. As they near the stairs, CORNELIUS’S hand blindly feels for hers. She accepts it. They mount the stairs and seat themselves on the bench]
TOLOACHE:
(As though to herself)
Oh ... my … God! Would you look at that!
PHYLLIS:
Yes … Um … Um …
(She finishes by holding a handkerchief to her face, her shoulders bobbing)
HOWARD:
(Coming down the aisle from the lobby, he removes the program from the empty seat and sits. He shakes his head a moment then looks at TOLOACHE)
Mama …?
(After a moment he leans in and gives TOLOACHE a kiss on the cheek. Glassy-eyed, they gaze at each other. Then, she nods)
[[SIDEBAR NOTE TO READER: at this point, the musical director would be keying up the first piece, followed immediately by the second. For the full emotional effect, please listen to each piece (found at the bottom of the "author notes") completely, as though you are in the audience. Each is quite short. (WHEN THE FIRST SELECTION ENDS GO IMMEDIATELY TO THE SECOND.) It's best if you can listen with your eyes closed while imagining, if you will, CORNELIUS, his eyes closed, rapturously, his body gently swaying with the first selection, and his head and shoulders keeping time with the rhythm of the second. JENNIE, meanwhile, gazes at him with so much pride and love it would test the skills of any actress.]]
| Author Notes |
CHARACTERS:
CORNELIUS PLUMB: An autistic, musical genius child, age 12. He is uncommonly handsome, well-groomed, well-dressed. His speech is clipped, with a beat, between each word, as though he is forcing himself to slow the flood of experiences bubbling from inside. His best friend is Jennie. CILILLA QUEEZ: An actualized part of Cornelius's deeper mind, there to guide him through rough emotional patches. Only Cornelius can see and hear Cililla. JENNIE JAX: Cornelius's classmate, age 12, physically not yet blossomed. Emotionally tossed and turned by events in her young life. On the shy side, she is kind-hearted, but still a child and swayable. She has been attracted to Cornelius from the beginning. TOLOACHE [Pron: Toh-loh-AH-chee] PLUMB: Cornelius's mother; former off-Broadway actress and bit player in daytime soaps, she now owns a small, borderline-successful acting studio. She glows with love for her son and protects him with much the same fierce devotion and duty as a knight would protect his kingdom. PHYLLIS JAX: Jennie's mother; a housewife, married to an unstable novelist, Gary Jax, who has recently abducted their daughter and moved to New Mexico. HOWARD PLUMB: Cornelius's father; Enormously successful founder and C.E.O of a Fortune 500 chemical company. Highly intelligent, he is emotionally distant from his wife and entirely dismissive of his son. JEFF HALLOWS: Principal of Zachary Taylor Middle School. Age 45. A true empath. He understands Cornelius from within the social and educational construct better than anyone. BOY: sitting next to CORNELIUS. Much gratitude for the photo by Daniel on Upsplash |
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