The Difference between Cats and Dogs

I took a deep breath. "Around twelve years ago I had it all, a successful career as an Advertising Copy Writer with one of the big agencies in Sydney. I was married to Jen, a beautiful girl who ran the café where I bought my many cups of coffee during the day. We had plans for the future that included kids and possibly a dog or cat, we hadn't decided which . . . ."

"Darling." We had just made love and were feeling great. "You know that we have plans for children?"

"Yes." Where was this heading?

"Well," She looked me in the eyes and then kissed me. "I am pregnant. I went to see my doctor the other day, he rang me this afternoon and he has confirmed that we are pregnant."

My world had just moved from great to perfect. "That's wonderful, I am so happy right now."

The next day my work colleagues all commented on my happiness, and when I told them the reason, they found themselves included, it was that kind of work environment, where we were one huge family. I was showered with congratulations and kisses from the girls in the office. Life didn't get much better than this.

It lasted less than a day.

I walked out of my building and headed down the street to her café, only to find it surrounded by police and an ambulance. My entry into the café was blocked by a large policeman. "You can't go in there sir, this is a crime scene."

"But my wife, she owns this place. What has happened? Is she all right?"

"You had better come with me." He lifted up the yellow tape and led me to the end of my dreams. There was a sheet on the floor covering a body. There was Belinda, the girl that worked there sitting at a table in tears and a Detective asking her questions.

"Belinda, what has happened?"

"Oh Spencer, I'm sorry, so sorry." She dissolved into a flood of tears.

"And you are?" The Detective asked.

"My name is Spencer Fletcher, my wife Jen owns this place. I assume that the body under that sheet is her." The corner of the sheet was lifted, she looked so peaceful and it wasn't until I saw the blood oozing out from under her arm that the reality of her death hit me. That was pretty much me gone for the time being. It was hours later that I began to make sense of what turned out to be a senseless waste of, as it happened, two lives. I was in hospital being treated for shock. I had no idea how long I had been there, or how long I would have to stay in this place.

I went back to work a week later, but I was useless as a Copy Writer, I was useless as a man. Everyone was understanding and kind to me. The execs were understanding of my fuck ups and inability to produce. It was me that lacked understanding. It turned out that it was a robbery gone horribly wrong. A man had come into the café wearing a balaclava and pointed a pistol at Belinda demanding money from the register. What he didn't know was that the day's takings had been removed and Jen had just taken it to the bank's night safe. When she walked back in and saw what was happening she reacted on instinct, and threw herself at the man. He attempted to flee the scene but was stopped by a passer-by who held him, none too gently until the police arrived and arrested him. He told the police that he didn't mean to kill her, but that he had panicked and the gun went off. What made the situation even worse was that he was Belinda's boyfriend. He was an Ice addict and he needed money for drugs. He knew that the café was successful, and made a lot of money, but that's where his planning essentially finished. He hadn't thought it through, and he hadn't asked Belinda what the routine was as far as the money was concerned, in fact she did not know, at least that's what she told the police, that he was planning to rob the place.

I was given a month off work. But a month was nowhere near enough, a year would not have been enough, ten years was not enough. I have never gotten over the end of my life, it is still bottled up inside me, this writing gig is a barely successful coping mechanism."

"So there you have it, the sad story of a sad, sad man, living a sad life."

"Jesus, and I thought that I had it tough." Adrianna came around to my chair and hugged me. It was a sympathy hug, I could read nothing more than that into it. "This conversation between Katerina and her mother on page 2, I think that it could be a little more direct." She was attempting to distract me, to take my mind off my pain. It was back to business.

"So do I, but I was treading lightly, I didn't want to scare you off."

"Believe me, when I first looked at it I was scared, but then I read further and now it doesn't fit into what happens later."

I had my own ideas as to how it should have played, so we'll see how close I was. "Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Well, Mother knows that she's dying and doesn't have long to live, so she doesn't care if she offends Katerina, so she tells it the way that she feels it should be told. Look." She showed me her copy of the page and where I had written:

Mother: "You listen to me girl, you think you know what is best for me, but you know nothing. You know it all when you marry that man, and now you come home without him, because you know not enough to keep him. You know nothing about this thing that I have, but you still tell me that you know it all. You listen to me, I was like you, I know it all, but when your father died I thought my world would end, so I don't care about people, I care only for me. Now I have only me."

Katerina: "You have me Mama."

Mother: "I do not have you, you alone have you. If you do like I do you will always only have you. I tell you this for your own good, forget about me, you can do nothing for me now. Think of what you will do after I go. I do not tell you to go back to your husband, but do not turn your back on people just because you have been hurt by him."

In its place she had written:

Mother:"You listen to me girl. When your father died I shut myself off from the world, I wanted nothing more to do with it. And you see what the result is. I am dying, and I am dying alone, because those people who tried to be a friend to me, I turned my back on. Do not do this or you will be like me."

Katerina: "But Mother you have me."

Mother:"Did I have you when your father died? No. Did I have you when the doctor told me that I was dying? No. You come to me only when my life is over, to help me die. It is too late for your help, if this is all that you have come for, you wasted the trip."

Katerina:But Mama, I have to come, I cannot stay any longer in the same place as my husband, he has hurt me as you said that he would. He is a bad man."

Mother:"What did he do that has hurt you so bad?"

Katerina: "He wants to do things to me that are wrong. I cannot let him fuck me in the arse. I cannot let him tie me up and whip me. I cannot let him pee on me. These are just some of the things that he wants to do to me. Then I find that he has a girl that lets him do these things. I can no longer even allow him to touch me, so I leave."

Mother:For this reason it is good that you come to me. Do not turn your back on people because this bad man has hurt you. But it is not a good time for me. I will die soon."

"This is pretty much what my mother told me when I came home after my bastard of a husband forced me to end our marriage. He told me that if I didn't do what he wanted me to, he would find someone who would. I wasn't to know then that he already had found someone, he wanted me to break off the marriage. I didn't know what to do, the people that I thought would support me turned their backs on me out of loyalty to him. He never allowed me friends of my own. I was lost, and it was the world's fault, not mine. I came home, not to care for her, I never really cared for her, but for her to help me to recover from my own troubles."

"I'm sorry, sorry that I have opened up old wounds."

"No. I am glad that you did. I have spent the last two years blaming everyone else for my feeling of loneliness. If I am lonely it is my fault. I have no friends, I have business acquaintances, and customers who are friends for five minutes, and then they are gone. Mother told me that you were a good man, yet I turned my back on you when you were trying to be a friend to me. I didn't want to let you into my life for fear that I might fall in love with you, and I have told myself a thousand times, that I will never allow myself to fall in love again, ever."

"I never thought that you would fall in love with me." (You fucking liar, that's all that you've dreamed of since you first saw her) "I had met your mother a few times and helped her out with little things that needed doing, but I could never have considered myself a friend to her. I went to her funeral and it was the most depressing event of my life. I thought that Jen's funeral was depressing, but I had a wide circle of friends and relatives to support me. Apart from you, the mourners were outnumbered by pallbearers four to one, I was the only mourner. I tried to talk to you after the funeral, but you were lost in yourself."

"I was, wasn't I? I remember you trying to speak to me but I wanted nothing to do with anyone. Do you remember the first time we met?"

"Yes. I'd gone over to do something for your mother and she introduced me to you and, if memory serves, you totally ignored me."

"I did, didn't I? And do you know what Mother said to me after you'd gone?"

"No."

"She said to me, Adrianna, this man is not your husband, he is a good man, he does work for me and will not accept payment for it. You need a man like him, he would be good for you."

"But Mother, he is still a man."

"Yes he is, he is a man, your husband is not a man, and unless you see that, you will be afraid to find love again."

I thought about our conversation. "This is good, this is better than what I have written. I have tried to imagine what a mother and daughter would say in this circumstance, and I've looked at it from a male perspective, just stopping short of laying the blame on the woman's inability to get over her problem, and that's the point, I saw it as her problem when it isn't. In your case it was your husband's problem and until you realises that you will never move on with your life. Help me with this dialogue, please."

"I don't know. This is all so sudden, first you just want me to read your play and now, what you're saying is, you want me to help you write it. I just don't know."

"Let's see how your changes look." I highlighted the original dialogue and deleted it. I then typed in Adrianna's suggested changes. (This seemed to take forever, a combination of my dyslexic fingers and her watching blew what little of my self consciousness right out of the water. Spell checker over-heated with corrections.) "That looks okay, but how will it sound? I'll take your mother's part, you are Katrina." I began in a falsetto voice, trying to sound like an old dying woman. Adrianna came in with her words, her timing was good. "That will work. I can't believe that you have no acting experience."

"What do you mean, I act all of the time in the boutique, do you realise how hard it is to tell some old hag that she looks wonderful in a black lace bra and panties and not burst out laughing. That's way harder than anything that this play will ask me to do."

We worked our way through the script changing little, Adrianna suggested changes to the phraseology to coincide with how her mother spoke. I hadn't intended to use a foreign sentence structure. "Mother was born in Poland and they speak differently to us, I think that I would be more comfortable if the actor playing Mother used the same accent and structure, if that's okay with you."

"I wanted to, but I couldn't remember exactly how she spoke, I'll be guided by you on this."

So we worked through her dialogue, changing words and sequences in line with the way her mother spoke. It added a depth to the dialogue that wasn't in my original. "How would it be if you were given some of the writing credits?"

"I couldn't, all that I'm doing is to offer some suggestions. This play is yours, the storyline is yours, so no, I don't want writing credits, thank you."

The following week the theatre group met to discuss the play prior to casting and rehearsals.

"Could I have your attention please." I addressed them. "This new play is something that has been floating around in my head for some time. It is basically a two hander, the first act is about the return home of a woman, ostensibly to care for her dying mother, but in reality she is running from the wreckage of her own life. This act ends with the mother's funeral. Act 2 is about her drifting through life, touching base briefly with others but not connecting, It is also pretty much a two-hander, a man enters her life and attempts to connect with her, but she will not let him in. I know that it all sounds depressing, but there is a message in this for all of us. Now I would like to introduce you to the lady that I have cast in the lead role of Katerina, Adrianna Conover."

Adrianna stood and smiled at the group, acknowledging the welcome.

"Adrianna has no formal acting experience, but what she brings to this role is something much more important, an understanding of the underlying emotions running through this character. She has been assisting me in the development of Katerina's character. As for the other roles, most of them are walk-ons, there is little dialogue between the main character and these people, but they are equally important to whether this works or not. I have cast myself in the male lead, not because I consider myself the best actor in this group, but because during the development of this character I have come to realise that I have put a lot of myself into this role. As we rehearse this play I hope that you will understand and appreciate my reasoning for this. Okay, Julie, you are Katerina's mother. I have seen you in similar roles and know that you can bring something to the part. Now, I want you all to take home a copy of the script, read it and get a feel for the incidental roles. We will cast them tomorrow and have our first read through straight away."

I handed them each a copy and they read quickly through the first couple of pages. "Henry." Henry was our set designer. "We need four sets, a bedroom and kitchen with a dividing wall projecting out no more than a metre so that it doesn't block the audience's view of the characters, but still delineates between the rooms. Then we need a Funeral Home interior for the end of Act 1. For Act 2 we need two sets, a cafe interior with one of those flappy doors to the kitchen at the back, and a shopping mall set with store fronts, how quickly can I see the sketches?"

"Preliminaries tomorrow, once we decide on the final design the plans will be ready in a week and the sets complete in three, is that soon enough?"

"Perfect. Right people, extras casting and read through tomorrow. First rehearsal next week, okay?"

There was a mumbled response and they all took their scripts and left. Adrianna looked at me. "I don't think that they appreciated your arbitrary selection for the leads."

"They usually grumble over the casting, but they fall into line quickly enough. Now, how are you with your lines, do you want me to run through them with you?"

"I get the impression that you want to, so yes."

"My place for coffee?"

"Sounds good to me."

Ever since she had decided to come on board with me on this, we have spent quite a lot of time together, and I felt that we were getting to know each other, but I wasn't ready to move to anything more at this point, more to the point I felt that she was not yet ready to move on. What we needed for both our sakes, was to get through this play first. We needed to conquer our demons, our fears of trying again to find happiness, and until we clear that hurdle we were both destined to continue as sad and lonely people.

The next night we had assembled in the theatre. "Spencer," John, the usual male lead, and the one person that I thought would object to my casting myself in the lead role, stood up.

"Yes John." I said cautiously.

"I can understand you casting yourself, I don't have a problem with that. My major concern with this direction to the extras to 'talk amongst yourselves'."

"Yes , that. What I want is for those chosen for these roles to carry on an everyday conversation, as if you were meeting socially. For the café scene you will be seated at tables and Katrina will be coming and going through the door at the back, bringing in coffee and cakes and stuff, just like a normal café. Now I want those involved to behave just as they would in that situation, talk about the things that you would usually talk about, laugh if you have to when someone cracks a joke. The one thing that I didn't want to do with this is to write dialogue that would be used each night, this would lead to a lack of spontaneity. The same for the mall scene, you will be walking across the stage carrying on as if you were shopping, talk about the things that you would talk about under those circumstances. Can you understand why I didn't actually write dialogue for these scenes?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"Read the papers, gossip mags and watch TV, work up topics from these sources, just as you normally would. Now is there anyone here that doesn't feel that he or she can carry this off?" The was no response. "Okay, there are obviously more of you here than we can cope with on stage at any one time. I have a solution. What I have done is to divide the cast up into two groups, the café group and the mall group. This avoids the situation of the audience recognising people who appear in both scenes, it also means that you won't have to think up two different things to say. Any objections?" There were none. "Okay, those of you who want to be in the café scene, and if you're on a diet I suggest that you stay away from that scene, could you put your names on the sheet on that table over there, the others, your sheet is on this table. We will work our way through them, there could be changes, we don't want all the guys in the café scene and not in the mall scene, things like that."

The cast sorted themselves into two roughly equal groups, some went to join one group, and seeing a lack of balance, chose instead the other.

"Good. Now you will have noticed that my character has very little to say, and this is not because I'm hopeless at remembering my lines, it is because my character is torn between his own solitude, and his trying to get up the courage to do something about it. He is basically a coward, and reluctant to take that next step. In the final scene, just as the curtain comes down, he is forced into it. So, in the café scene he will wander in, and look as if he's about to place an order with Katrina, and then retreat out of there. You will all react just as you would if this happened in real life, some will notice it, and their eyes will follow him out, others will not notice him. Some of you will notice the look on Katrina's face as she stares at his retreating back. I'll leave that entirely up to you to sort out."

"The first act is basically a two hander between Katrina and her mother, who is not named. It also introduces, briefly, my character, also not named, who comes in to do some work for the mother and then leaves. He is not seen again until the funeral scene. Julie, have you had some time to get your head around your character? Remember, she is a very sick person who has the time to dwell on her past, and why it is that she is in her present situation, friendless. The back story for those who are interested is that she has never really gotten over the death of her husband, and the fact that Katrina had not listened to her warnings about the man that she married. She is wracked with guilt after Katrina comes home, could she have done more in the beginning, and what could she do now that she is too sick to do much? Against that is the fact that Katrina has not contacted her in the seven years that she was married."