Medicine (Pt. 1 of 2)

Writer’s note: The scene directions can be used as much or as little as the director wants. They are there mostly for tone, although a kitchen setting would be ideal.

For gender, I imagine that JO is trans; Marilyn is a cis-woman, Vic is (probably) a cis queer woman and the Apothecary is whoever the director would like the Apothecary to be. Pronouns can be changed as necessary.

Scene 1

The sound of chopping. The lights come up on a brilliantly lit kitchen bench, a bare bulb hanging down over JO as they chop carrots.

JO 
I hate her. 

They chop carrots viciously, into smaller and smaller pieces.

 Marilyn’s nasal voice. 

They chop more furiously. 

Marilyn’s fake, tight smile when we hold hands. 

The pieces of carrot are getting so small that they almost start turning into a paste. 

Marilyn calling the Thanksgiving cranberry sauce too sweet and the potatoes too salty and the turkey too dry and she always manages to find the cobwebs. 

JO throws the knife away. It shatters against a wall into crystal fragments. The light catches the fragments as they fall, sparkling.

Too much.

JO puts their head in their hands, their elbows on the kitchen bench.

I can’t.

The bulb blows. Darkness.

Scene 2

From the dark a door opens offstage and a beam of light angles into the stage area. There is a woman silhouetted in the light. We hear MARILYN’s voice calling to JO. Her voice is high and slightly nasal.

MARILYN 
I’m just about to take the dogs for a walk, JO.

No answer.

MARILYN 
Do you need anything from the shops? Anything for the soup?... I don’t know why you insisted on carrot, squash is much nicer this time of year. Well, there should be powdered ginger in the cupboard, make sure that you put some in, it really brings out that sweetness in the carrots. Oh, and I think there’s some coconut cream as well, that might be nice. Come to think of it, there might even be fresh ginger in the fridge. That would be quite superb. I’ll pick some up anyway, shall I? Just to add that extra edge. Alright, see you later!

 The sound of a bulb being screwed back in. It is lengthy and metallic. The light comes on. JO is still in the same position. A pot is steaming next to them. They raise their head.

JO 
I could poison the soup. Rat poison, hull cleaner, so many readily available household items. None of them taste like coconut, though. She thinks. Something sweeter. Saccharine. Fake. Her smile, perhaps.

They stir the soup. It gloops. There is a high pitched whine in the background as JO starts to move the spoon moves around the rim of the pot. It builds and builds until finally  JO stops stirring. They sets down the spoon carefully, stares into the pot. The light focuses in on them.

JO 
That’s what I need. 

The light goes out. The sounds of soup being eaten.

Scene 3

JO, MARILYN and VIC at a square formica table. After the meal. The soup bowls are still in front of them, a few sourdough bread rolls left in the basket, their checked red and white napkins crumpled besides the bowls. There is a large calendar on the wall reading SEPTEMBER with most of the days crossed out with red X’s.

MARILYN 
Well, wasn’t that fresh ginger nice in the soup? Really pulled it together, even if it was carrot.

VIC 
Mmm.

JO 
I was already planning on putting in dried ginger, you really didn’t have to go to the trouble...

MARILYN 
I do prefer squash, but I understand that if the carrots were on sale...

JO 
If you adjust for the relative lack of flavor and double your amounts,...

MARILYN 
Well, with fresh ginger you can count on a fresh flavour every time!

JO 
It’s basically equivalent. 

MARILYN 
I always say, fresh herbs and spices save the day. 

MARILYN smiles brittlely. This is something that she says a lot.

VIC 
That’s what you’ve always said, Mom.

MARILYN 
And JO, what will you be getting up to this week? Job hunting, I assume?

There is the hiss and whine of air being let out of a tire. A few heavy drops of water plop onto the table from overhead. 

JO 
Well, I ---

VIC 
Mom, we don’t need the money. JO’s job at the moment is taking care of the house and the dogs. And cooking us all delicious meals! 

She smiles, the kind of smile that encourages everyone else to join in. They don’t.

JO 
I’m going to keep looking.

MARILYN 
That’s good, dear. I mean, we all know that housekeeping isn’t your strong suit. She laughs a small, tight laugh. No-one joins her.

JO looks down at their bowl.

JO Mutters so no-one else can hear 

Well, being pleasant isn’t YOUR strong suit.

MARILYN 
What, dear?

JO 
Nothing, Marilyn.

VIC 
Well, I guess I’ll just get started on these dishes...

JO standing quickly 

Oh no, I’ll do it. You’ve had a long day. Why don’t you go relax in the lounge. Maybe watch some TV.

VIC 
As long as you don’t mind....

JO 
I don’t.

MARILYN 
You do look tired, Vic. JO’s right, you deserve some rest. I’ll put my feet up too; all that walking the dogs made them sore! And you can tell me more about your day.

MARILYN and VIC exit, MARILYN making a big show about limping out.

JO is left alone. They use the tablecloth to clean the dishes in a repetitive circular motion as they speak.

JO 
Every day I wait on her. Every day I listen to her complain about aches and pains. Every day her criticisms sting my ears and lodge in my breastbone like some dead lead weight.

JO drums their fingers on the table.

JO 
An Apothecary.

A giant telephone book falls from the sky, landing on the table. It is open to the correct page.

JO Reading 

John Wilkins. Herbalist. Excellent.

The lights go out. 

Scene 4

There is the ringing of a doorbell. Lights come up and the Apothecary and JO are standing in the kitchen. The Apothecary has a large suitcase.

JO 
Thank you for coming. I didn’t expect that you would offer door to door service.

APOTHECARY 
People are busy. Sometimes the need is a difficult one. Pause. It’s a service that we provide.

JO 
Well, thank you. Coffee? I just made a fresh pot.

APOTHECARY 
No thank you. I don’t drink caffeine. Shall we sit?

JO 
Sure. 

The Apothecary sits. JO pours themselves a cup of coffee and joins him.

APOTHECARY 
You called about your mother-in-law.

JO 
Yes.

APOTHECARY 
You said that she is elderly. Rheumatism, perhaps?

JO 
Um, no. I mean.... she does have rheumatism, but that isn’t it.

APOTHECARY 
The thyroid?

JO 
Well, that too, but also no. It’s... 

APOTHECARY 
Yes?

JO 
I don’t know how to say this.

They sit in silence for a moment. JO stirs their coffee but doesn’t drink. A dog yelps.

JO 
I find her difficult.

APOTHECARY 
Ah.

JO 
I don’t want her around.

APOTHECARY 
Ah.

JO 
I want her dead.

APOTHECARY 
Ah.

JO 
I want to poison her. The way she poisons everything in this house. A rotting canker. 

APOTHECARY 
Hmm.

JO 
I don’t want her to suffer. Not egregiously. No, actually, not at all. But I need her gone. 

There is another silence. JO starts to get nervous. A dog whine is heard.

JO 
Your ad said that you were discrete.

APOTHECARY 
We are. It won’t be cheap.

JO 
I have savings.

APOTHECARY 
Morally or fiscally.

JO 
I’ll take the risk.

The Apothecary considers. The lights dim and flicker twice, then return to normal.

APOTHECARY 
In that case. I can help you. 

The Apothecary places the suitcase on the table with an audible thud. As the Apothecary continues to talk while mixing the drug.

APOTHECARY 
You must give this to her three times a day. Just a teaspoon. At least three hours apart. One teaspoon each time. It tastes pleasant, can be taken in water or juice. Coconut water is a particularly good pairing. The drug will take approximately six months to work. It will appear like a natural death. 

The Apothecary finishes mixing the drug in a box, clicks the suitcase shut. JO reaches out for the box. The Apothecary doesn’t give it to them..

There is one more thing. You must be kind to your mother-in-law while administering this drug. She must be in a relaxed state to receive the medicine. Otherwise it will fail. 

The Apothecary hands over the box. JO takes it. Looks at it in wonder, a little scared. The Apothecary stands up.

Payment is due upon completion of the drug. I’ll return at that time. Have a pleasant evening. 

The Apothecary leaves. JO is left holding the box. They stare at it. Finally puts it down on the table. Picks up their mug and takes a sip of coffee, the first sip from that pot. They immediately spit it out, spraying the whole table.

JO 
Shit. I burnt it.

Lights out. The sound of windchimes.

Editor's note:
You have just finished part 1 of "Medicine," by Ania Upstill. Stay tuned for part 2.