Carriage

This is a small part of a play I have been working on, set in New York. It is about Mary and Seamus, two alcoholic homeless people, who appear to have a relationship of some kind. In the last part of the play, the audience gathers that Mary and Seamus used to be married with children. The youngest died, Mary started drinking and then left. Seamus followed a year later. The children were left with relatives. Mary and Seamus blamed each other and themselves for years, but now have found an escape in the unlikeliest environment.

Mary wakes up under a stairwell behind Seamus who is standing, shaking a can in a rhythm, begging for money.

Mary: For God sake! I wish you would stop doing that.
Seamus: What? What am I doing?
Mary: You’re trying the poor wee orphan look, but it just doesn’t wash on a fifty year-old wino. Nobody’s buying it.
Seamus: They are too. A lot of people have been feeling sorry me.
Mary: I see. Where’s the money then?
Seamus: Well, there must be a recession on or something.
Mary: Really? I hadn’t heard about that. Would it be a citywide recession, or is it just on your turf? Maybe if you hadn’t stuck your big clumsy foot in the fiddle last week you’d have a chance of earning something. You’ll never make another penny if you stick with the orphan look.
Seamus: Ah shut up you. You think you’re so high and mighty. Look at yourself lying there in the gutter in last night’s puke. Maybe it’s the reek coming from you that’s turning people off stopping to give me a bit of charity.
Mary: You’re a cheeky brute Seamus. You don’t exactly smell like a bed of roses yourself. I suppose you think if I wasn’t around they’d be flocking to you. You do, don’t you?
Seamus: You certainly aren’t helping my case. What about you? I don’t see you even trying to make money.
Mary: Actually I’ve a new thing I have been doing and (jingles pockets) it’s working out very well for me. I didn’t need to be collecting up more last night. I have enough for a couple of days yet.
Seamus: Wha..? And here I am beggin’ for my supper.
Mary: Your supper?
Seamus: And there’s you Mrs. Moneybags scrounging it all away to yourself. Give it here Mary. Aw come on, just enough for one can. Please Mary I’m dying for a sup.
Mary: Go on then I hate to see a grown man beg. Get one for me too. I’ll show you how I got it when you come back.

Mary fetches an old fashioned baby carriage from behind the steps and sets it up as Seamus makes his way to the liquor store. She is fixing the blankets and stroking something inside it. She is whispering to it.
Mary: Hush baby, you’ll be ok. I wont let anyone touch you. You’re safe with me.

Seamus (coming down the street): Hahahh!, you old hag! I never would have thought you’d have the heart for that. If that isn’t the Immaculate Conception at sixty years of age I don’t know what it is.
Mary: Go away Seamus, I’m only forty-five and you know it. What do you think? Do you like it?
Seamus: Its great Mary, great. Your eternal days will be hot for it.
Mary: Where’s the harm? We need our sustenance just as much as the next person.
Seamus: Here you go Mary, open yourself up a can of sustenance.
(Both drink.)
Seamus: So is it a girl or a boy Mary? Did you name it yet? Ha ha. (cheeky) does it look like me?
Mary: It’s the spitting image of you Seamus. It’s got your clumped up hair and your rotting teeth and just like you, it smells of cat pee. Aye, it’s a real chip off the old block.
Seamus: So what do you call it?
Mary: Kitty. (Lifts a cat out of the carriage)
Seamus, laughing: Where did you pick up that straggly looking thing? It looks like it’s been run over by a bus.
Mary: Now, Seamus! kitty is very sensitive. She, or he maybe, I don’t know, is a stray like us. And the baby carriage was down the alleyway over on seventh’s street. Somebody had just abandoned it.
Seamus: So you saw your opportunity to make a quick buck. God woman, you’re shameless.
Mary: It works, thought. Now, go away and hide somewhere, you’re giving the game away. Here’s one coming now.
(Mary rock’s carriage back and forth.)

Janet: The performance is starting in a few minutes. We’ll never make it. I told you we should have taken a taxi. And it’s freezing out here. Look at the hairs standing on my arms. Just look. You could have told me to bring my heavy coat, but oh no, you’re always just thinking about number one. You brought one for yourself. I am going to be in bed all day tomorrow with the flu. Give me that handkerchief. (blows hard) How much farther is it anyway? You try wearing these heels!
Leyland: We’re nearly there. Give it a rest. Look Janet, look at that homeless woman down the street. She has a baby out in this cold with no home to go to, and you’re complaining about your heels? Come on, give me your purse.
Janet: Leyland, don’t! You’ll catch something. It stinks around here. What is that? Vomit, urine? Please, let’s just get a Taxi.
Leyland pulls out a note: Here honey, that will maybe buy a couple of nice meals for you and your..is it a boy or a girl?
Mary: It’s a baby girl. Called Kitty. I’m Mary, nice to meet you. We’ve fallen on hard times. Her daddy left us for some whore, and look what happened.
Leyland: You put that in your pocket. It looks like you need it more than me and my wife. I hope it will help. Don’t you and your baby get cold out here at night?
Mary: Well of course, but we just huddle up together under some coats and blankets with a flask of hot tea, if we are given the money for it, and we just hope for the best. I’m hoping we can make it back to the old country one of these days.
Leyland: Which old country? Ireland? You sound Irish.
Mary (exaggerating her accent): That I am, begorragh.
Leyland: I’m Irish too! My great great-grandfather on my mother’s side was from county Kerry.
Mary (exaggerated): Kerry? By god! I’m from Kerry myself. What was your family name?
Leyland (excited): O’Sullivan.
Mary: Holy Bejaysus, It’s the very one! Aren’t you lucky your ancestors made the trip, or it could be you standing here instead of meself. (She turns and winks at Seamus behind the steps.)
Leyland: You don’t mean you’re an O’Sullivan do you? My great great-grandfather O’Sullivan came over during the famine. According to my grandmother, he got a farm as soon as he moved here and grew nothing but potatoes. They were the best selling New England had ever seen. Isn’t it funny how something can be your ruination in one country and your salvation in the next? Janet, give me your purse again. (He gives her another note, a fifty this time. Mary’s eyes light up). You know, my grandmother never stopped talking about Ireland, and she had never even been there. Her great grandfather played the tin whistle and told her fairy stories and then she filled her grandchildren’s heads with magic. Janet and I are going on a tour with Shamrock Coach Lines this summer. We’re real excited. Maybe you’ll be back on your feet in Kerry by then. Maybe I’ll look you up.
Mary: Okay sir. If I can get off the streets I’ll be there, waiting for you to call in. And maybe I’ll have a chance to repay your kindness. But sure the Sullivan’s will be there anyway.
Janet: Leyland, we need to go. Give me back my purse.
Leyland: I might try to trace some O’Sullivans for you. What town does your family live in?
Mary: Oh, um, Dingle, yep Dingle…in Kerry. O’Sullivans we are. Oh, you’ll get a lovely warm welcome from them.
Leyland: I have to go now Mary. I hope you and Kitty will be okay tonight. It’s so cold. May I ..?
Mary: Oh no! She’s sleeping. You’ll wake her.
Leyland: Okay then, sorry. Here Mary. Take my coat. It’s real warm. Leather. I hope you find somewhere to sleep tonight. Your baby will get sick out here.
Mary: I’m sure we’ll do ok now. Thanks for your kindness darlin’ (Gives him a big wet kiss on the cheek.)
Janet, pulling him away: Come on now.
Leyland: Ok, goodnight, er, ..bye.
Leyland and Janet walk away down the street.
Janet: Why did you let her kiss you? Oh my god, she was filthy. And she stank. I can’t touch you until you get back to the hotel and shower. Just don’t talk to me.
Leyland: I didn’t think she’d…
Janet: Don’t talk to me. Your coat! I bought that for you. It was supposed to be your Christmas present. And how much money did you give her: a hundred and fifty dollars? That probably wasn’t even a real baby. She certainly wouldn’t let you see anything. And she probably isn’t even Irish. Just don’t talk to me. Just don’t!

Mary watches the couple walking on down the street towards the theatre and counts the bills. Seamus comes out from behind the steps.
Seamus: I can’t believe it. Give kitty a raise. A hundred and fifty bucks? I’ve never made that in a single day in my life. Where can I get a pram?
Mary: I don’t think it would work for you somehow.
Seamus: Why? I’d probably make a more convincing woman than you.
Mary: You need to come up with your own business venture. This was my idea. And you better be nice or I won’t share with you. Come on now, I’m ready for another drink.

(They wheel the buggy to the liquor store, Go inside for a while and come back on stage with crates of beer in their arms.)

Seamus: Mary. I think you might be a genius. I have never heard of a better scam. Look, we even have something to carry the booze back in.
Mary: we’ll have to move kitty though.
Seamus: You can hold her. I’ll push the booze.
Mary: Steady, Seamus. The sidewalk is broken. You’ll shake the beer up. Look at this, would you, a pramful of cans and still I have a handful of money.
(She holds up the money, admiringly. 2 young boys run past and snatch it, and keep running) What the? I’ll kill you, ya wee shites. My baby’s going to starve now. I hope you’re proud of yourselves!!! Run after them Seamus! They got the money!
Seamus: Aye, you’re dreaming Mary. I couldn’t run the length of myself if my pants were on fire. They’re gone.
Mary: Isn’t it always the way. Anytime I get a little bit ahead, somebody comes along and knocks me back down. And you’re no help. At least I don’t have a house to lose anymore.
Seamus: And you still have your little money-spinner there.
Mary: Aye. I suppose we should look on the bright side. We’ll need to empty her out so we can give her another spin.
Seamus: Sure it hardly feels like we lost anything at all now.
Mary: Nice cold beer at the end of a hard day’s earning. That’s what its all about. Who needs bills and mortgages and the constant worry? Seamus, (Mary lays her hand on his) I’m sorry I had to go and mention the fiddle earlier. I know you didn’t mean to step on it. It was the drink.
Seamus: It doesn’t matter now. I was no good anyway.
Mary: You were indeed. You’re fishing for compliments now. You know, I have enough change in my pocket to buy a tin-whistle. The tin will hold up under your big clods a bit better than the wood did on the fiddle. (Mary winks and elbows him) We’ll go and find a music store in the morning.
Seamus (tears in eyes): Aye, after a wee sup. You’re a good woman, Mary. A good woman.


Boy1: Twenty thirty eighty, Thank You lord! There’s over a hundred dollars here. What a windfall! Let’s get something for Mom.
Boy 2 : No, she’d rather have the money man. Let’s go straight home.

Mary and Seamus wake up later that night with the Romanian urinating on the ground next to them.
Mary, stirring: Ah jesus Cosmo. That’s splashing on me.
Cosmin: Mary, Mary, my friend (goes to hug her). Oh, let me zip myself up. Pardon, pardon. I did not see you there. My eyes are going sour. Oh Mary, Mary my friend, my soul friend. I wish you would be mother of my children. I have dream about you last night. (He kisses her on the cheek)
Seamus: You don’t have many soul mates to choose from on the streets Cosmo.
Mary (ignoring Seamus): Tell me about this dream Cosmo. They’re always lovely. (To Seamus) He’s long gone.
Cosmin: You and I were sitting on the edge of a windy cliff by some vast gray ocean. You were not young but had youth in your soul. Oh Mary, if only we were in another place. (Hand soars up in the air.)
Mary: What were you doing in this dream, Cos?
Seamus: Don’t ruin it, Mary! Keep it clean Cos, keep it clean!
Cosmin: I was throwing seeds off the cliff. I was sad because they would not grow. And you laughed and told me they probably needed more water.
Mary: Cosmin, that’s lovely. Don’t know what it means, though. I had a dream dictionary once. I wish I could remember a dream now. I don’t think I have had one in years. I’m probably not sleeping right.
Seamus: You’re probably knocked out every night. Cosmo, stop drinking the wine it’s making you sentimental. Here’s a beer. Cheer up. You can have Mary if you want her.
Mary: What? I hope you don’t think I’m yours to give away.
Seamus: You’re mine forever Mary. (Sings) “You and me in sweet harmony” Even if I lend you to Cos for a night. (Grins at Cosmin)
Mary: Forever might not be too much longer if you keep talking like that.
Cosmin: You are having a party? Where did you get all this beer? I have never seen so much on the street.
Seamus: Mary just delivered a cat, a magic cat. Every time you stroke the cat a six-pack magically appears.
Cosmin: (Picks up the cat, strokes it.) Shhh, little…(Romanian for cat) Nothing! …. I think your magic cat is not working anymore.
Mary: You’re not doing it right. You have to stroke him and baby him all night. And then in the morning the beer will be there. Just cuddle him and go to sleep. You’ll see. (Aside to Seamus) That’ll shut him up.
Cosmin: Mary did you ever have a cat when you were living in Ireland?
Mary: No, but my neighbor had one. It used to hang around my doorstep all the time looking for scraps. I just shooed it away. I was never much of a cat lover. Until now.
Seamus: I liked dogs. They’re not so sly and crafty as cats. I had a good dog. What was his name now? Blackie. That was it. Great dog. Waiting for me every day when I got out of the work van. Joe McTamney, one of the farmers up the road was complaining that he was chasing sheep, but it couldn’t have been him. He wasn’t like that. He disappeared one day. I think McTamney took him to the pound. The wife was away and I couldn’t get a day off work to go and look myself. I got drunk one time and went up to the farm and shouted the whole place down. McTamney called the police on me. I spent a couple of days in jail and on the third day I waited for the work van and it didn’t come. I phoned the boss and he told me I was fired and I could come and pick up my last check on Friday. That was the end of it for me. No dog, no job, everybody needing something. So I went on the booze full time.
Mary: You don’t have to keep talking Seamus. He’s already away to sleep. I hate it when he drinks wine. He always starts asking you to dredge up your old life. Hopefully he’ll sleep it off now. We’ll have to remember to keep a six-pack for him for the morning.
Seamus: I don’t know Mary, is this enough to get us through the night?
Mary: Well, we’ll see how it goes Seamus. We’ll see how it goes. Now, don’t talk too loud. You’ll wake him.
Seamus: No chance. He’s dead to the world.