That Is All I Have To Say About That – by Luke Shanahan, age 16

This is one of eight short plays recently produced in a playwriting project with the Abbey Theatre

Character introduction:

Jerry: Early twenties. Paul's older brother (but only by about three years). Tries to keep a level head while grieving. Strong supporter of LGBT rights. Neutral accent.

Paul: Early twenties. Jerry's younger brother. Withdrawn, keeps to himself, reticent. Conflicted feelings about LGBT issues. Heavy Dublin accent.

Aurora: Fourteen years old. Bit of a chancer. Offstage character. Dead. Transgender girl.

[Alone and I by Herbie Hancock playing in the background, Paul enters his new apartment stage right. It is doused in a dim, blue light. There is a small table positioned centre stage with a garden chair on either side. The chair stage right is positioned facing the small table, perfectly adjacent. The chair stage left is a fair distance from the table. It has been moved recently, unlike the chair stage right. Paul walks around the table and leaves a green plastic bag on the chair stage left. He walks to upstage right, takes off his shoes and puts his keys in one of them. He leaves them on the floor. He walks back to the table. Paul takes out two white plastic plates, two plastic knives, two plastic forks and sets the table. He takes out a cake from the plastic bag and cuts two slices. He places one slice on his own plate, and the second on the plate opposite to him. He picks up his knife and fork and starts eating. Halfway through eating his slice, Paul puts down his cutlery, takes a deep breath and lays his head in his hands. For a while he just sits there. There is a knock at the door. The lights brighten up. Paul lifts his head out of his hands, he looks at his watch confused, gets up to answer the door then stops in his tracks. He turns around, and puts the cutlery and plates into the bag, with the slices of cake still on them. There is a knock at the door. He runs around the table, grabs the plastic bag, puts the plates, cutlery, and cake into said bag and ties a knot. There is a knock at the door. Paul jogs to downstage left, looks around, lays down, and gently places the the plastic bag just in front of the audience. There is a knock at the door. Paul sprints over to wing stage right. When he answers the door both Paul and Jerry are offstage.]

Paul: (surprised) Oh . . .

Jerry: (cheerful) How're'ye Paul! I was passing through so I thought I'd give you a visit . . .

Paul: Oh, yeah, sure, come in.

[They walk onto the stage]

Paul: So, welcome to me humble abode . . .

Jerry: Well . . . it's definitely humble.

[Paul sits down]

Jerry: I, uh, I was passing by earlier when I was bringing Daisy for a walk.

Paul: Daisy? Oh! That's the . . .

Jerry: The Labrador, yeah.

Paul: Daisy. Hm. Jerry: Well, you know, she's flowery. But, uh, yeah, yeah after we got home I thought I'd pop out, say hi. So . . . Hi.

[PAUSE]

Jerry: (Pointing at the garden chairs) Ikea?

Paul: Yep.

Jerry: Cheap?

Paul: Mm.

Jerry: Nice.

[PAUSE]

Jerry: So is this it? Or is there another . . .

Paul: Ah no, this is it.

Jerry: Oh, right, right, one room. Very Japanese.

Paul: Hm?

Jerry: Very Japanese.

Paul: How's that?

Jerry: Oh, you know, the Japanese, they have those apartments that are just like small cabinet-type things.

Paul: Really?

Jerry: Yeah.

Paul: Oh.

[PAUSE]

Paul: Have you been talkin' to Ma and Da at all?

Jerry: Ah, a bit, last time we spoke wasn't pretty, you?

Paul: They popped 'round the other day, we had a bit of a chat, it was nice.

[Jerry looks around at the apartment confused]

Paul: I sat on the floor.

Jerry: (The metaphorical penny drops) Oh! Right. Okay.

[PAUSE]

Do you need a lift tomorrow?

Paul: Nah it's grand.

Jerry: Sure?

Paul: Yeah, I have to drop by the dry-cleaners and do a couple other things in the mornin' so . . .

Jerry: Fair enough.

[Pause, Jerry gestures towards the empty chair]

Do you mind if I . . .

Paul: Eh, no, sure, grand, go ahead.

[PAUSE]

Jerry: So, I wrote a poem.

[Paul rolls his eyes]

Paul: (knowingly) Of course.

Jerry: Ah, come on, you haven't even heard it yet.

Paul: Look Jerry: , I love ya, but . . .

Jerry: I just want to get a second opinion.

Paul: But your poems – they're really depressin' and, just, well . . . awful.

Jerry: Oh, bit blunt.

Paul: Look, I, I just think tomorrow is gonna be depressin' enough in anyways.

[Jerry stands up, he takes a note out of his pocket]

Jerry: Here, look, just give it a quick listen-

Paul: I dunno.

Jerry: Ah you do.

Paul: I don't think I do.

Jerry: (Quickly) I think you do know if you do and I think that you do despite saying you don't, why you say this I don't know, only you do, the same goes for whether you do or do not, but as I said I don't know.

[PAUSE]

Paul: What?

Jerry: (smiling) Yeah.

[PAUSE]

Paul: Alrigh'. Fine. Go.

[Jerry composes himself and clears his throat, Paul sits down]

Jerry: "I must ask, is this really how it ends? The anti-climax of a tale of friends? Is there still a point in saying a prayer? Is this loss of life what a God calls fair?"

Paul: Yikes.

Jerry: "Newton's Third Law of Motion in action? The equal and opposite reaction? The aftermath of man's response to change? All this, just because you thought she was strange?"

Paul: Okay, no, I dunno about that now, bit controversial.

Jerry: Is it really though?

Paul: Well, look, you know, it's late, I'm tired, you should probably just go, early start in the mornin', I'll see ya tomorrow.

Jerry: (Holding the note) You haven't heard it all.

Paul: I'll hear tomorrow. You need to go alrigh'?

Jerry: No.

Paul: What?

Jerry: Alright, I'm not gonna beat around the bush, I thought that maybe I could. Look, this is a conversation we need to have.

[Jerry sits back down] There needs to be a bit of consistency.

Paul: What do ya mean?

Jerry: Right, okay, see, consistency, see . . . What I'm trying to say here is, take Mam and Dad for example, they grew up in a different time, they had a very (looking for the right word) religious sort of upbringing. So tomorrow, if I go up there and read this poem about our sister and you go up there and talk about . . . Aaron, it'd be confusing.

Paul: So what if we just both agree to call him Aaron and save everyone the confusion?

Jerry: No.

Paul: Why not?

Jerry: Because it's not respectful.

Paul: How is it not respectful?

Jerry: Because, well, she wouldn't have wanted us to.

Paul: But what if I want to tell a story about him.

Jerry: Her.

Paul: Before he . . .

Jerry: She . . .

Paul: Started this whole transvestite shite.

Jerry: Not the word.

Paul: Oh . . . eh . . .

Jerry: Transgender.

Paul: Transgender! That's the one!

Jerry: Christ! Look you agree that we should be, you know, respectful, right?

Paul: Yeah, obviously!

Jerry: Well, using her correct pronouns (Paul rolls back his eyes) is how you respect her.

Paul: No, I'm not gonna do that.

Jerry: Why not?

Paul: Because!

Jerry: Because why? Specifics would be nice.

Paul: Ah, ya know . . .

Jerry: Well I clearly don't, so please, elaborate.

Paul: It's just, he lived for 13 years as Aaron, what are we supposed to do? Just forgot all that?

Jerry: No! Obviously! It's super simple – Look, do you have a story, or an anecdote you'd like to tell?

Paul: (Leans forward) Well . . .

Jerry: (Leans forward) Yeah?

Paul: Well I was thinking, I didn't have any one anecdote in mind, but, I suppose I wanted to share something that'd display his character, y'know?

Jerry: Like what?

Paul: Like, when we were pickin' Da up from work that day and Aaron and Da's boss, what was his name again?

Jerry: Think it was like . . . Mark?

Paul: Well Aaron and Mark were havin' a grand aul chat and at the end Mark goes "Stay short, kid!" and Aaron goes . . .

Jerry: (remembering) "Stay fat, Mister!"

Paul: Exactly!

Jerry: I had forgotten about that one. You could always tell that one when we were in France for the summer, and Aurora was just really making some great strides in her reading, and she was just reading everything she saw. Do you remember?

Paul: Sort of, yeah.

Jerry: And we were taking the train?

Paul: Right?

Jerry: And this particular train was owned by Virgin, the company . . .

Paul: Yeah, this sounds familiar.

Jerry: And the train pulls up and she goes "Oh! A Virgin! Don't see many of them in Paris!"

Paul: Well he was right, so he was . . . Oh! That time Aaron was all excited the first time he saw Mark.

Jerry: "Ma! You said that men can't get pregnant, look at that chap!"

Paul: That poor Mark fella put up with a lot from us, mostly from Aaron I suppose.

Jerry: Right, so, as I was saying earlier when you tell these stories, these anecdotes, just say she did "whatever", or she liked to play with her "whatever, whatever", or Aurora liked to . . .

Paul: Now, look, about the name . . .

Jerry: (pleading) Ah, c'mon! That's her name!

[Paul stands up and walks away]

Paul: No it's not, it's a fuckin' nickname at best.

[Jerry follows Paul ]

Jerry: (Finger quotes) "Catholic ethos", gaelscoils don't put nicknames on the roll, I mean if those, I mean if they get it . . .

Paul: Look, I miss my baby brother Aaron, I miss him and I wanna be able to remember him.

Jerry: No, you miss her, you miss Aurora.

Paul: No, you miss Aurora, I miss Aaron.

Jerry: Two sides of the same coin.

Paul: Look, we keep it simple, I'll tell stories from when he was Aaron and you can tell anecdotes from when he was Aurora.

Jerry: One, that's far from simple and two, that's not how it works.

Paul: What d'ya mean that's not how it works?

Jerry: She was never Aaron, the name Aaron, the identity of Aaron was just a mask Aurora was born with.

Paul: Ah, would you g'wan outta that!

Jerry: I mean just think back, think back to Aurora's childhood, there were loads of times that it was painfully obvious that she wasn't comfortable living the life of a boy.

Paul: Like what?

Jerry: Like her Confirmation!

Paul: Ah! That was nothin'!

Jerry: Try to open your eyes here, Paul!

Paul: Nah, that was just a laugh, that was just messin'!

Jerry: No! There was way too much effort on her part for it to be messing.

Paul: (Dismissive hand gesture) Ahk!

Jerry: Think about it, really think!

Paul: I'm thinkin'.

Jerry: (Listing on his fingers) She had to find out what girls in her class were the same size as her, she had to find a girl that would be happy to swap her nice white dress for the boring black suit Dad bought.

Paul: (Defensive) That was my old suit!

Jerry: They then both had to find somewhere to get changed before the Mass. That's a lot of effort for messing, don't you think? And, Christ, don't you remember what Dad was like afterwards?

Paul: Ah, come on, she was, what age was she then?

Jerry: Twelve.

Paul: Exactly! How could we have known as early as that?

Jerry: When did you figure out that you're a man?

Paul: Well, since forever.

Jerry: You're telling me you popped out of Mam with a firm grasp on the concept of gender?

[Paul sits back in his chair]

Paul: Well, then . . . fuck, I suppose, when I first learned the difference between men and women's. . .

Jerry: Genitalia?

Paul: No, I mean . . . when I first learned the difference that some people are male and others female.

Jerry: Well, when was that? Paul: I, I would of been . . . six?

[Jerry sits back down]

Jerry: Six? Okay, well consider this, she knew she was a girl before she was six, probably before she even knew what a made a girl different to a boy.

Paul: Feck off!

Jerry: Hallowe'en 2006, you remember who she wanted to dress up as?

Paul: Who?

Jerry: Sleeping Beauty.

Paul: Ah shite!

Jerry: She was four, Paul, four!

[PAUSE]

Paul: (Softly) It . . . Jerry: What? Paul: It can't be right though.

Jerry: What can't?

Paul: God doesn't make mistakes,

[Jerry lays his head in his hands]

He chooses whether someone is a man or a woman, that surgery is sin, to deface God’s own creation.

Jerry: Paul, you're literally quoting Mam word for word, I know you don't believe a word of that shit.

[PAUSE]

Paul: Okay fine, I don't, but still though! That surgery . . .

Jerry: Paul, she was trans with or without the surgery, plus you can't have "that" surgery until you're eighteen.

Paul: Well what if she started doin' the . . . What d'ya call it?

Jerry: Hormone therapy.

Paul: Yeah, what if he started doin' the hormone therapy, what if he changed his mind?

Jerry: (Astounded) Changed his mind?

Paul: She was too young to make a decision like that, no one should be making the decision to change gender at fourteen!

Jerry: No one should be making the decision to kill themselves at fourteen!

[Extended silence, they both lean back uncomfortably in their chair]

Fuck, I mean if she had just had that little bit of support from Mam and Dad . . .

Paul: Sure we all know that never could've happened.

Jerry: Or from you . . .

[Pause, Jerry leans forward]

Sorry that was really fuckin’ insensitive of me.

Paul: No, no, don't worry about it.

Jerry: No, sorry, that was completely uncalled for, I mean I'm no saint, if I was she wouldn't . . .

[Paul leans forward]

Paul: No, don't, just cut that shite out, alrigh'?

Jerry: Alright.

[PAUSE]

Jerry: I just I can't get my head around . . .

Paul: Like . . . how she could . . .

Jerry: Can you imagine how that feels . . . that sense of isolation, even when you're with your friends, your family?

[PAUSE]

Paul: Yes.

[Paul looks at Jerry, Paul puts his hand out, Jerry slides the note across the table, Paul takes it and walks over to downstage left]

Paul: "I must ask, is this really how it ends? The anti-climax of a tale of friends? Is there still a point in saying a prayer? Is this loss of life what a God calls fair? Newton's Third Law of Motion in action? The equal and opposite reaction? The aftermath of man's response to change? All this, just because you thought she was strange? No, I cannot accept that this is just. I can't simply move on and readjust, Change shouldn't cause friendship to be condoned, Change shouldn't result in a child disowned, Change shouldn't leave a girl on train-tracks flat, That is all I have to say about that."

[Paul walks back over to Jerry and sits down.]

Paul: (Trying to form an opinion) The ending . . .

Jerry: Yeah?

Paul: Bit blunt.

[PAUSE]

Jerry: So do you mind if I read it?

Paul: (softly) I . . .

Jerry: What?

Paul: I don't think it's a good idea, I mean it's not the worst poem you've written, there's heart to it I suppose but . . .

Jerry: But what?

Paul: But, but see like, if you read it everyone'll just think "Ah, that's Jerry bein' the edgy fuck he is, try'na bring all the attention to himself at a funeral, no less" but . . .

Jerry: But?

[PAUSE]

Paul: If I read it . . . it might have different effect on people, y'know?

[Silence, Jerry considers this, he smiles]

Jerry: Alright.

Paul: Okay?

Jerry: Yeah, perfect, grand.

Paul: I'll see you tomorrow so.

[Jerry and Paul both stand up, they start to shake hands, they change their minds, and share an awkward hug, they embrace for a while then Paul lets go, exit Jerry .

Paul walks back down to downstage left. He grabs the plastic bag, lays it on the table and rips it open. Once again he lays the table and finishes his slice of cake.]

Black.