“AMBER ROBERTA”
By Johnny Culver
917 691 6884
www.pineyforkpress.com
CHARACTERS
Gladys Mae –dumpy, plain, drab, would be attractive if she tried, indeterminate age
Amber Roberta – plump, overly made up, not so pretty, but tries, indeterminate age.
In and around California, Pa. A Presidents Day, not too long ago.
Scene One. Morning
AMBER ROBERTA sits at a rickety table, in a rickety kitchen in a rickety wooden house, eating toast, drinking tea and reading the newspaper. She wears a flimsy silk robe, which does not suit her at all. Curlers are scattered in her hair.
AMBER ROBERTA
(Reading)
No…no…nope…
(Spills jam on her robe)
Darn it!
(Tries to rub it off)
Darn thing’s not paid for yet…oh well; I’ll just send it back and say it’s defective, ripped…
(Back to newspaper)
…no…no…yes!
(Calls off)
Gladdy Gladdy!! Gladys Mae! We got a live one! This is t!!
(Stands, accidentally pushes toast, paper
and teacup to the floor)
Darn, darn, darn. This place is out to get me today!
(Bends over to pick up mess)
This is not the day for this. Gladys Mae, we got one! We got one!
(She places items back on table as GLADYS
MAE appears, dresses in dungarees and a tied flannel shirt)
Gladys Mae, get your black dress outta the closet, and polish up your black shoes. Get out your good purse. We got a live one! Right here in California, Pa! Right here in our little corner of West Pike Run Twp. Township! Today is the day! I have been waiting for this day all my life!
(Overly jumpy)
I gotta get my dress outta the basement, now where did I put that hat with the blueberry trim? You can run over to Cray’s drugstore and get me a new pair of black hose…put em on my tab, Mr. Cray can wait for his money a little bit longer-
GLADYS MAE
(Skeptical, turns and faces AMBER ROBERTA)
Amber Roberta, are you sure this time? Show me. We have to be absolutely sure. We’ve been thru this before, you remember. Last month, with the substitute mail man? A false alarm. Don’t get yourself all worked on Presidents Day.
AMBER ROBERTA
I thought he looked like us. Does this sound to you like a false alarm?
(Picks up paper and reads)
“Merle Roberta Austin, 82, died yesterday. She was born May 10, 1926, in Normal, Ill. She moved to California, Pennsylvania with her family, where she met and married her husband of more than 50 years, the late Eugene Austin, and where they raised their four daughters. Together she and her husband later moved to nearby Speers, Pennsylvania, with their two daughters. Merle will be fondly remembered as a square dancer and as the maker of many beautiful crochet pieces. She was a caring sister, wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, who will be greatly, missed by her two daughters, her five grandchildren; her two step-grandchildren; her nine great-grandchildren and one step-great-grandchild; and her many friends. Merle was predeceased by her loving husband, and her spinster sister, Gladys Roberta. A funeral service will be held today at the California Funeral Home…with lunch to follow at Aunt Fatty’s Chicken Pit…
(Folds newspaper)
Well?
GLADYS MAE
(Shaking head)
I…don’t…see…
AMBER ROBERTA
My middle name is Roberta, like her maiden name, Roberta? I make many beautiful crochet pieces, just like her. And your name is Gladys, the same as her sister.
GLADYS MAE
(Almost exasperated)
That’s not enough to go by, Amber Roberta. Don’t get all caught up in this. Not on Presidents Day. I have to change the sheets on our bed and thaw the ground meat for dinner--
AMBER ROBERTA
(Shows paper to GLADYS MAE up close)
Look! Look!
(Points to paper)
In California Pa, she and Eugene raised four daughters, but when they moved to Speers, Pa, they only had two daughters! What happened to the other daughters? Did they toss them out the side of the car when they were moving the three short miles from California to Speers?
GLADYS MAE
There’s no reason to believe that they are-.
AMBER ROBERTA
They forgot the two other daughters in the house when they moved away; they left them all alone in this house here in California, Pa. That was us they left all alone. To fend for ourselves. How could our mother and father be so cruel? To leave us in the trash or in the coal bin to die? To live alone in this house forever!
(Begins to take curlers out of hair)
Well! I am going down to that funeral home and tell that family what really happened! Tell them that Merle Roberta Austin was NOT a caring sister, wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, but a cruel woman who left her poor daughters out to suffer by the curb on trash day! Get your clothes changed, you have to drive us to the funeral home! Our bed can wait, the ground meat can wait!
GLADYS MAE
Four daughters and then two daughters? Let’s call them and find out, before we go to all the trouble of getting dressed. I am not driving us anywhere, that old Impala out there can’t move another foot, let along the two miles into town. Maybe it’s a mistake, a mistake that the newspaper made. Sometimes I hear you whispering that, Amber Roberta, in the middle of the night. “Maybe, this is all a mistake…”
AMBER ROBERTA
I never whispered that! No mistake! I have been looking, waiting, all my life for the truth, and now here it is. In black and white!
(Heads to door)
I will be ready in a few minutes, ready to meet the family that tossed us by the wayside. And if you won’t drive me, I’ll walk there. On the side of the highway, hitching a ride if I have to!
GLADYS MAE
They wouldn’t even know who we are. All those grandchildren; and step-grandchildren; and great-grandchildren and step-great-grandchild.
AMBER ROBERTA
Don’t try to stop me, Gladys Mae!
(Goes out)
GLADYS MAE
(Calls after)
I’ll telephone the newspaper, Amber Roberta. I’m sure it’s a mistake in the paper, two instead of four. Or four instead of two.
(Pretends to dial phone on wall,
And speaks loud enough for AMBER ROBERTA to
hear her)
…hello? Evening Chronicle? I would like to ask your obituary editor if they know there is a typo in today’s newspaper. The Presidents Day issue. Oh, you know the mistake I am talking about? Merle Roberta Austin really took her four children to Speers, Pa? Good, thank you.
(Pretends to hang up)
See? Amber Roberta? It was a typo. A mistake. They must be so excited about it being Presidents Day; they made a little slip up.
AMBER ROBERTA
(Stickling head in door)
It’s Presidents Day, Gladys Mae, the newspaper office is closed. Quit stalling, sister!
END OF SCENE ONE
Scene Two. Afternoon
AMBER ROBERTA sits at a rickety picric table, on the side of a dusty road connecting Speers and California Pa. She holds her purse and the day’s newspaper. GLADYS MAE stands, looking impatiently up the road. Both wear their funeral dresses and hats.
AMBER ROBERTA
They invited us for lunch….we’ve never visited Aunt Fatty’s Chicken Pit.
GLADYS MAE
(Looking up road)
Until now. I called that tow truck an hour ago. I’m not walking back to the pay phone at the restaurant. That Chicken Pit.
AMBER ROBERTA
They were nice people…the music was very pretty…everyone was so well dressed…
GLADYS MAE
It’s going to cost us a good bit to get that old Impalas engine fixed. We should have left it at home.
AMBER ROBERTA
Her step-great-grandchild seemed polite. It was nice of the county jail to let her out for the day. Who knew that Mr. Cray was so serious about shoplifting down at his drugstore? What was her name…?
(Tries to remember)
Shauna? Sheila? Sheila –Ann?
GLADYS MAE
(Stamps her foot).
Her name was…I don’t even want to think about her name or those people! Amber Roberta, they are not our relatives, and as you can see, they never were our relatives. They were trash, right from the Appalachian Mountains. Poor, uneducated, hillbillies! I am sure Aunt Fatty’s Chicken Pit was the fanciest place they had ever seen! We wasted a perfectly good Presidents Day, and ruined a perfectly good Impala engine. That poor Impala.
AMBER ROBERTA
I am sorry. I’ll pay for the engine. I have a little saved away. Not much.
(Pause)
Gladys Mae, don’t you want you want to know where you’re from? Who you are? How did we end up in that house? Why can’t anyone answer our questions? What happened years ago?
(Pause)
Well, I sure do. I am going to track every lead, leave no stone unturned. One day, I will know who I am and where I belong!
(Takes her hand)
We belong.
GLADYS MAE
Let’s just forget about it. I just want to get home and out of this dress and away from all of this roadside dust. This is some Presidents Day.
(Paces)
Where is that tow truck? You stay here, Amber Roberta, I ‘m going to walk back to the pay telephone and call them again.
(She takes off her shoes and puts them on
the table)
I’ll need a quarter…
(Fishes thru purse and finds change, leaving
purse on table)
I’ll be right back. Just sit and read your newspaper, Amber Roberta.
(She goes)
AMBER ROBERTA
I’ll just wait right here. It’s nice to be outside in the sun.
(Shakes arms)
Get some color to these white arms…
(Glances at paper)
How could I have gotten this wrong? I was so close…so close to finding out …who…I…
(Reads paper, intently)
Why, I was wrong, this is right!
(Reads aloud)
“Sister Rosalina Magalina, a member of the Speers Province
of the Sisters of St. Cilantro the Great, was called home to the Lord on
Monday, in the 74th year of her religious life. Sister Rosalina was born on
August 28, 1916. She became a member of Holy Ghost Parish of St. Cilantro in
California, Pa. on November 5, 1935. Before her retirement, Sister Rosalina
served as teacher and principal for 40 years in the many local schools staffed
by the Sisters of St. Cilantro. During these years and beyond her retirement,
Sister Rosalina also used her artistic gifts widely; both in the schools,
parish churches and her religious community. For many years, her talents were
evident in the many printed signs needed during the Annual Pilgrimage and for
community celebrations. There are still evidences of her work in some areas of
the monastery, including the No Smoking signs outside the ladies room and in
the Bingo Hall. In her personal notes, Sister wrote, "I came to the
convent to do God's work. I enjoyed making hand painted signs, as I search for
my own sign," Sister Rosalina was preceded in death by her parents, her lost
Sisters in the community, and survived by her younger brothers, Milton and
Ralph. Relatives and friends will be received in the Monastery Chapel tomorrow,
3:30 p.m. to 9 p.m. Interment will
follow in the Speers Cemetery.”
(Puts down paper)
Lost sisters? That must be us! This is the-
(Excited)
I make hand painted signs! I am searching for my own sign!
She must be our sister! Milton and Ralph are our brothers. We were one happy
family, Amber Mae, Gladys Roberta, Rosalina, Milton and Ralph! The Magalina
family!
(Stands and calls
out)
Gladdy Gladdy!! Gladys Mae! Come back! This is it!! Come back here-
(Sits)
She can’t hear me. No, this time I will do this myself. I don’t want to get Gladys Mae any more upset. I’d better hide this from her, cut it out of the newspaper and keep it safe. Don’t want to ruin any more of her silly Presidents Day.
(Looks for something to cut newspaper with
and goes for Gladys purse)
I know she has scissors in here.
(Looks thru purse)
No…no…what’s this?
(Pulls out old
yellowed clipping)
What the…?
(Reads)
Donald Ray Rath, 19, of California,
PA, passed away suddenly on Presidents Day, Monday, February 25, 1959. He was
the beloved husband of Gladys Mae Rath, 16; infant daughter Amber Roberta Rath,
son of the Martha and Eugene Rath, all of Altoona. He will be sadly missed by his many friends
here in West Pike Run Township. His co-workers at the Speers Steel plant have
created a trust fund for his wife and daughter…
(Stops, stares at clipping)
Donald Ray? Gladys Mae? Mother? But we’re sisters...more than sisters…you said so yourself…
(Pause)
Presidents Day. Of course. I am going to find out from her exactly-
(Starts to take clipping then stops)
No, if she had wanted me to know, she would have.
(Puts clipping back in purse and takes out
scissors)
Enjoy your
Presidents Days, Mother. I can keep a secret, too.
(Beat of anger)
No, I cannot keep a secret. I want to know! Just you wait ‘til you get back here, Gladys Mae!
(She clips away at newspaper, becoming angrier)
END OF SCENE TWO
Scene Three. Evening.
AMBER ROBERTA sits on a rickety bench in the dingy waiting room of the West Pike Run Township bus station. A large suitcase sits next to her. She wears a tight flowery print dress. After a beat, GLADYS MAE enters, suitcase in her hand.
GLADYS MAE
The announcement said that Bus 62 would be three hours late departing. Foggy weather in Altoona, they said. Well, we’d better go home. We can try again tomorrow. This has turned out to be a very disappointing Presidents Day.
AMBER ROBERTA
(Stands and moves away from Gladys)
I don’t see why they can’t play the announcement here in the waiting room, or at least keep the door open at the bus station, so people can hear it in here. People would be in here and they’d miss the announcement about their bus.
(Looks around)
I can’t believe this shoddy waiting room. You’d think, it being right in the bus station, it’d be a little classier. There are a lot of things I cannot believe.
GLADYS MAE
We could wait until I – we - get the engine in the Impala fixed, and drive to Altoona ourselves. There no rush, no reason to take the bus and spend all this money. No need to get a bus driver involved in my personal life.
(AMBER ROBERTA backs away and glares at her)
All right, our personal lives. What are you backing away for, Amber Roberta? I know it’s hot in here, but I did wash before we left.
AMBER ROBERTA
What do you mean, a disappointing President Day? We are going to Altoona to meet Martha and Eugene Rath and maybe any other Rath's that maybe living in Altoona. I want to meet my family. And don’t tell me they aren’t still alive. You heard me call the Altoona telephone operator. You heard those voices at the other end when she connected the call! I don’t know why you made me hang up so quickly.
GLADYS MAE
(Paces)
I don’t know why I let you drag all this out of me. My past. My life. My secrets are none of your business. You’ve ruined what we had together.
AMBER ROBERTA
Your past? When were you going to tell me? When were you going to tell me about my father, and you? All these years, I had no idea who you were.
(Pause)
I can get that old cot out of the cellar and set it up on the front room.
GLADYS MAE
Of course you knew who I was, am. I am Gladys Mae Rath, and you are Amber Roberta Rath. And that old cot wouldn’t hold a fly, as old as it is.
AMBER ROBERTA
But you never told me we were mother and daughter! Lord, Mother, there’s something a little damn strange about that. And why did you get married so young. Sixteen? What in hell could possibly – oh-
GLADYS MAE
Watch your language. And my age back then is none of your business. Just like some things today-
(Turns to door)
I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to the ticket window and get my bus fare right back, and then I am going home. I am not having any more of this nonsense! Come along, if you know what’s good for you. You can hold my purse. There’s nothing new for you to look for, anyway.
(She shoves purse to AMBER, then leaves)
AMBER ROBERTA
(Calling after her)
Good! I’m not going anywhere with you! I am taking that bus to Altoona, no matter what time it leaves. I am going to get on that bus and…
(She is alone)
She’s right. This has been some Presidents day.
(Arranges herself and her suitcase on bench)
There!
(Strains to look thru window from her seat.)
I’ll see when that bus driver gets there and be first on board.
(A beat while she waits with nothing to do)
I’ll just wait and finish today’s paper.
(She skims thru newspaper.)
Mary Worth…Marmaduke…
(Laughs)
Oh, that Marmaduke…On This Day in History…what?
(Reads aloud)
“By the early-1980s, with a push from
advertisers, the term "Presidents' Day" began its first public appearance.”
First? But that clipping I saw in Mothers purse-
(Takes out clipping and reads)
“Donald Ray Rath, 19, of California, Pa.…bla bla bla…Presidents Day, 1959!” But there was no Presidents Day for another twenty years to come! How could he have died on a day that wasn’t around?
(Looks closely at clipping)
This isn’t a real clipping, this is from a typewriter. And Altoona is spelled wrong! What’s this all about?
(GLADYS MAE returns)
GLADYS MAE
I got my money back. If you’ll just hand me my purse, I’ll put the money in and be heading home.
(AMBER slowly hands purse to GLADYS, and
turns away)
AMBER ROBERTA
(Mumbles, thinking)
We’re so different…We don’t even look alike…
GLADYS MAE
What did you say?
AMBER ROBERTA
(Turns back to GLADYS)
Who are you?
GLADYS MAE
What? You know who I am. Gladys Mae Rath, your…mother. And you are my daughter, Amber Roberta Rath. Come home with me, dear. It’s been a long day. A long Presidents Day.
AMBER ROBERTA
(Thinking aloud)
There was no Presidents Day back then. Back in 1959. This clipping is fake. All of this is fake.
(Confused)
I think. Maybe it is all a mistake. Maybe it IS me…
(Snaps back and stands)
Why don’t you want me to back to Altoona? And, by the way, the next time you type ALTOONA, remember, it has two O’s!
GLADYS MAE
(Puts down suitcase and sits on bench. She
becomes lost in her thoughts, lost in the past)
I always wanted a little baby. A little baby girl. A little girl to dress up and feed. To wipe her tears and watch her grow Always wanted to be a mommy…
AMBER ROBERTA
(Suspicious)
But you are. A mommy, mother, my mother.
GLADYS MAE
One day, years back it was springtime, when everything was blooming, I had just bloomed, just become a young lady. I got real sick. Daddy took me to the hospital. They looked all outside and inside me, gave me all sorts of medicine, put me to bed for weeks. Spent all summer in bed.
AMBER ROBERTA
I don’t understand.
GLADYS MAE
One day, my
daddy came home from work, came up to the bedroom. He had the prettiest stuffed
bear you ever did see. She wore a red dress and a button nose. And the darkest
eyes. Amber colored they were. He brought it to the bed and tucked it under my
arm, and said “Gladys, this can be our
baby. You can take care of it just like a real one. Our real one.”
AMBER ROBERTA
(Defensive)
But I was your baby!
GLADYS MAE
I carried that little teddy bear everywhere. To school. To the store. Up and down the street we would go. I would take Amber the Bear out in the wagon, along with the baby girl next door. I got paid a dollar a day to babysit her. Up and down the sidewalk. I would pull them. My two best friends.
(To AMBER)
That’s what I called her, Amber the Bear. Then one day, it was my 16th birthday. I woke up and Amber the Bear was gone. I couldn’t find her anywhere. I looked in the house, in the yard, in the bushes. I cried and cried. Then, that night, my daddy took me out on the porch, sat me down in the swing and said “Gladys, I think you’re a little old to have that bear. You’re a woman! 16 years old. You need to start doing some womanly things.” Then we sat on the porch swing, sat real close…
AMBER ROBERTA
What happened to the bear?
(Begins to figure out)
What happened too...Amber the Bear?
GLADYS MAE
I never saw it again. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I felt so all alone. My Amber the Bear was gone!
(Beginning to lose it)
Then one day, I decided. We were going to run away and find Amber the Bear. No matter how long it took.
AMBER ROBERTA
We?
(Putting pieces together)
Oh no…
(Sits next to GLADYS)
You didn’t.
GLADYS MAE
That night, when my Daddy was asleep, I tiptoed out of our room, quiet as a mouse. I packed up all my things, in a little suitcase, took money from his wallet, and snuck over to the neighbor’s house, quiet as can be. The baby didn’t cry because she knew me. Didn’t make a sound. I picked her up, took a few of her things, and snuck off into the moonlight night. I never saw Daddy again. I sometimes think about him. Wonder if he ever had a real wife.
AMBER ROBERTA
(Stunned)
But your what about your husband! He died suddenly!
(Pulls out clipping)
What about this?
GLADYS MAE
Ah, that clipping. Yes. It took me 20 years to figure that out. I knew one day you’d ask. One day you’d want to know, who you were and where you were from. I could never tell you the truth. I went down to the California Public library, sat at one of their typewriters and typed that clipping up. Should have paid a little more attention to my spelling, though. Knowing one day you’d find it. Hoping you didn’t, though.
AMBER ROBERTA
(Stands)
Martha and Eugene Rath! Speers Steel plant!
GLADYS MAE
That was the couple next door. And Daddy shoveled iron ore down at the Speers Steel Plant. His name was Robert. Big strapping man. I looked into it. He died some years back. I get his pension now. It goes right to the bank.
AMBER ROBERTA
A daughter can’t get the pension of her father. That’s only for wives-
GLADYS
(Looks quietly at AMBER)
Satisfied now? Amber Roberta?
ANNOUNCER
“The fog has cleared. Bus 62, heading for Altoona is leaving in five minutes. Please present your tickets to the driver.”
GLADYS
(Standing)
Can we go home now? Come home with me, Amber Roberta. Please? Our home?
(Picks up suitcase)
AMBER
(Picks up her own suitcase and looks at
waiting bus, off, then back at GLADYS)
I…I…don’t know…
CURTAIN