Jenna Lassen
Playwriting I
K. Aspengren
Old Cakes – a Back Story play
(Lights up on Ethan and Ainsley, having just finished tossing all of the white cake boxes out of the window of the old sewing room. They are now clearing out piles of random junk, moving pieces of furniture to make room for the new baby. They converse while continuing to clean.)
AINSLEY: You know, the last time I was in this room for such an extended amount of time, you were playing runaway.
ETHAN: I still say kindergarten was a complete was of my time. That goes for the other ten years of school, too…
AINSLEY: There you were, curled up into a little Ethan-ball, scared to death and holding those damn clam shells to your heart…
ETHAN: Too ambitious, me. Not like the rest of the drones in high school.
AINSLEY: Mom was worried sick (tries to lift heavy sewing desk) -hey, gimme a hand with this- and wanted to called the cops.
ETHAN: Did she?
(crosses room and helps her haul the piece to the side so they can sweep)
AINSLEY: No, (with an ‘oooph’ as they set the desk down) I told her not to. I knew you were fine.
ETHAN: Oh, yeah? I could have been dead for all you knew…didn’t even call the cops.
AINSLEY: Found you, didn’t I? Here, take this one. (hands him a box of dusty spools)
ETHAN: (points to a spot near the window) There. Right there.
AINSLEY: (looking over and shaking her head) No, it was over to this side. You were hiding under the desk.
ETHAN: No, I meant, this is where we should put the crib.
AINSLEY: Oh.
(both look at the spot for a while, thinking)
ETHAN: Maybe we should have taken some pictures.
AINSLEY: Of what?
ETHAN: The cakes. For Great Aunt Lou. They were like…her artwork. We shouldn’t have just thrown them out the window. They were beautiful.
AINSLEY: (sits down on a box, wipes hand on thighs, sighing)
No, they weren’t, Ethan. They were useless. They were forgotten – the people who ordered them…they never came back. So they stayed and became hard and rotten and old and…
ETHAN: Ainsley. (tilts her chin up to look her in the eyes, gently) They were beautiful. Just because no one came back for them, it doesn’t-
AINSLEY: (stands abruptly and grabs broom) Let’s sweep out all these crumbs and dust bunnies, see if we can’t find the floor. Has to be spotless for a baby.
ETHAN: (considers her for a moment) Okay. And let’s write a letter. To Dad, kay?
AINSLEY: To Dad? What for?
ETHAN: Well, wouldn’t you want to know if you were going to be a grandparent?
AINSLEY: (stops sweeping and leans on broom, pausing) Yeah. Yes, Ethan, I suppose I would. (starts sweeping again, then stops and glances at him, grinning) Maybe it should be a postcard.
(Both snicker a little at that, and the lights go down.)