Mrs. Jeanne Halifax

Mrs. Jeanne Halifax

Characters:
         MIRANDA: mother, 40 or early forties, in a housecoat and bedraggled hair
         HAYLEY: her daughter, 15, hair in a ponytail, wearing athletic attire

Setting:
         Kitchen, mid-afternoon

(Lights up on MIRANDA's kitchen. It is small and cozy and old. A counter runs along the upstage wall, and it, like the cabinets above and below it, is yellow and aging. A window with yellow gingham curtains is over the sink on the upstage wall. There is an old fridge on the stage right wall next to the back door, which also bears a yellow gingham curtain over its small window. Center stage is the kitchen table, the same yellow as everything else, and three vinyl chairs surround it. MIRANDA is seated in the middle chair, pen in hand, composing a letter. She taps the pen on the table a few times, then pulls a sheet from a stack of stationary next to her and starts to write, talking to herself as she does so.)

MIRANDA: (quoting her letter as she writes it) Dear Mrs. Halifax –

(A beat passes. She scratches out what she has just written and shakes her head.)

MIRANDA: No, no, too formal. Dear Jeanne – (scratches out again) Still not right. Okay, let’s see. Dear – dear – dear – (looks inspired, writes intently) Dear Mother –

(MIRANDA smiles at her paper for a moment. Then her smile morphs into a grimace and she crumples the paper into a little ball on the table.)

MIRANDA: I can’t call her Mother. I haven’t even met her yet.

(She takes another sheet of paper from the stack and looks at it for a few moments. Then she takes a deep breath and starts to write.)

MIRANDA: Dear Jeanne Halifax – (beat) Hi. My name is Miranda. Lanning. That name may or may not have any meaning for you – my mother told me that she renamed me when she adopted me, so I don’t know if you ever knew my name was Miranda or not. And Lanning’s a married name, so that wouldn’t mean anything.

(She looks at the paper again, then crumples it forcefully, grabs her other failed letter, and stands. During the next speech she crosses to the sink upstage and throws the two letters into the trash can, which is in the cabinet underneath it.)

MIRANDA: No, no, no! I’m not accusing her. And I’m not going to ramble on and on. I’m going to introduce myself and ask that we meet. I’m going to explain about being her daughter, explain that I found her, explain that I want to know about my birth family. I am not going to ramble about my name being something different than she might remember. And I’m not going to talk about my mother.

(She stops, still upstage.)

MIRANDA: My – Carla. Not my mother. Jeanne Halifax is my mother. Carla is just the woman who raised me. When Jeanne Halifax gave me up. That’s all.

(She returns to her chair, picks up another sheet, and begins again.)

MIRANDA: Dear Jeanne Halifax. Hello. My name is Miranda Lanning, and I’ve recently learned that I am your daughter. (beat, scratches out last word) No. Biological daughter. (goes on steadily) I was adopted when I was eighteen months old, and I didn’t learn about it until I was ten. It’s taken me just about thirty years to find you. But I’ve found you. I would be interested in meeting you, and I would be interested in learning about your life and any other family I might have. Do I have siblings? Grandparents? A father? Aunts and uncles? Even if I don’t, I would still like to learn about your family. Just to know about my roots.

(She takes a breath and rereads the letter quickly. She gives a nod of satisfaction and goes on.)

MIRANDA: I suppose you’re curious about my life, just as I’m curious about yours. I am married and I have a daughter –

(Just as MIRANDA utters the word “daughter”, the back door opens and her daughter HAYLEY appears. She carries a backpack, which she dumps to the floor next to the fridge immediately. MIRANDA flips the letter over and covers it with her hands as soon as she sees someone has entered.)

HAYLEY: It’s so good to be home.

(HAYLEY pulls open the fridge and begins rummaging through it. MIRANDA immediately switches over into maternal concern.)

MIRANDA: Tough day, hon?

HAYLEY: The worst. Coach made us run extra laps for talking during practice. But it wasn’t even me. It was Lauren and Kira. And he made us all run extra laps and he kept us all late and he lectured all of us. It was so ridiculously unfair.

MIRANDA: I’m sure he thought you all were talking.

HAYLEY: Yeah, well, it was really frustrating. I work so hard at practice and then to get lectured like that about “taking soccer seriously” and “being committed to the sport” – I just didn’t deserve that, you know?

(She pulls out a slice of cold pizza and takes a bite. She turns to her mother and leans against the fridge, finally noticing the pile of stationary on the table. She speaks with her mouth full.)

HAYLEY: What’s all that?

MIRANDA: (uncomfortable) Oh, it’s – it’s nothing, honey.

HAYLEY: Nothing?

MIRANDA: (seamlessly, nonchalant) Just some private stuff. Did you get your science test back?

HAYLEY: (nods as she chews, then swallows and answers) B plus.

MIRANDA: Oh, that’s great, sweetie.

HAYLEY: I was pretty happy. I studied so hard for that test but I thought for sure I failed.

MIRANDA: Well, you should be happy. A B plus is a very respectable grade. You did very well.

HAYLEY: It’s just so close, you know? To an A? I was almost there.

MIRANDA: Well, you still did very well.

(Her face darkens just a little.)

MIRANDA: How many times have I told you not to lean against the walls?

HAYLEY: It’s the fridge –

MIRANDA: It’s the same. Please don’t. Come here, sit.

HAYLEY: That’s an awful lot of stationary you have there.

MIRANDA: (trying to brush it off) I told you, it’s nothing you need to worry about.

HAYLEY: (stretching out the word “long”) You must be writing one long letter.

MIRANDA: I already said it’s no big deal.

HAYLEY: If it’s no big deal then tell me. I tell you everything.

MIRANDA: This isn’t like a test or what happened in soccer practice. This is –

HAYLEY: No big deal, right?

(She crosses to the stage right chair and sits, leaning expectantly on her elbows.)

MIRANDA: It’s private.

HAYLEY: I tell you everything.

MIRANDA: This is my business. I’m the adult, and if I want to keep something private –

HAYLEY: Look, Mom, I wouldn’t ask if I thought I shouldn’t know. But I don’t just think of you as my mom. I think of you as my best friend. I mean, I know you’re my adoptive mom, but you’re still my mom, and –

MIRANDA: Drop it.

(She glares at HAYLEY, then smacks her hands on the table and stands.)

MIRANDA: I tell you and tell you. If you eat at my table you need a plate or a napkin or something.

(She crosses to a cabinet upstage and rips off a paper towel. HAYLEY, however, notices the flipped over letter and pulls it closer to her.)

HAYLEY: What’s this?

(MIRANDA turns rapidly, looking surprised, guilty, and angry all at once.)

MIRANDA: Put that down.

HAYLEY: What is it?

(She sets her slice of pizza on the table and flips over the paper.)

MIRANDA: It’s private, is what it is.

(She goes back to the table, but too late.)

HAYLEY: “Dear Jeanne Halifax.”

(She looks up, puzzled.)

HAYLEY: Who’s Jeanne Halifax?

MIRANDA: Hayley, stop!

(She tears the letter out of HAYLEY’s hands, then goes back upstage and throws it in the trash. At the sound of the cabinet door slamming shut, HAYLEY starts.)

MIRANDA: I told you that letter was private, didn’t I? Didn’t I?

HAYLEY: (quietly, looking at her hands on the table) I’m sorry. (looks up) But who is she?

MIRANDA: (sitting back down) Who?

HAYLEY: Jeanne Halifax? What’s the big secret?

MIRANDA: No big secret. She’s no one.

HAYLEY: (voice raised) Mom. You don’t want me to read that letter. You’re keeping something from me. I will get it out of the trash if I have to, so just tell me. Who is Mrs. Jeanne Halifax?

MIRANDA: (quietly) My mother.

HAYLEY: (beat passes while HAYLEY thinks) Grandma Carla is your mother.

MIRANDA: No.

HAYLEY: Yes she is. I’ve met her. I’ve been to her house. She’s baked me cookies.

MIRANDA: I was adopted, Hayley.

(There is a long moment of silence where HAYLEY just looks at MIRANDA incredulously, but by the look on her face her hurt is apparent. When she finally speaks, her voice nearly breaks.)

HAYLEY: You’re adopted too?

MIRANDA: Yes.

HAYLEY: When did you plan to tell me you’re adopted?

MIRANDA: I didn’t know.

HAYLEY: You never thought to mention that Grandma Carla isn’t actually your mom? That never crossed your mind once? Or did you think it wouldn’t make a difference?

MIRANDA: Hayley, please.

HAYLEY: No. I’ve gone through so much knowing I came from some other family. When you told me I was adopted, you couldn’t lighten the burden just that little bit by saying you were adopted too?

MIRANDA: (suddenly yelling) It was not your right to know! Do not get all angry with me. It was my private business and it was not your right to know.

HAYLEY: But why wouldn’t you tell me something that meant that much to you?

MIRANDA: Because it was my own –

HAYLEY: No, Mom. You’ve known you were adopted and you never thought to mention it to me, your own adopted daughter?

MIRANDA: It’s complicated.

HAYLEY: Do you know the kind of things I’ve been through? You probably do. You’ve probably felt the way I’ve felt. I don’t know who my real family is. I only know they didn’t want me. But that you did and that you love me. I’ve tried to get over it – that pain of not being wanted – because I thought there was someone who loved me even if they didn’t. But you were going through the same things and you couldn’t even tell me?

MIRANDA: (exasperated) Can I talk now?

HAYLEY: When she came to the door, what were you going to tell me? Was she just going to show up here one day and pretend to be just some old friend of Grandma’s? Or were you going to introduce her to me at all?

MIRANDA: I didn’t know.

HAYLEY: Was I ever going to get to know about her, or was she just going to be another secret you kept from me?

MIRANDA: I didn’t –

HAYLEY: Know, I got it. But how is that supposed to make me feel –

MIRANDA: (exploding) Well, how do you think I feel? It is that complicated, honey. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that –

HAYLEY: (leans forward) Just that what? That you were ashamed of being adopted? That you didn’t want anyone to know? Does Dad know?

MIRANDA: Yes, Dad knows.

HAYLEY: But I don’t. Your adopted daughter doesn’t.

MIRANDA: Oh, for God’s sake. Will you be quiet for one minute and let me speak? (beat as they both calm down) When my parents told me I was adopted, I was so confused and upset and – angry – that I didn’t know what to do. I was ten years old, it was too much for me.

HAYLEY: I was eight when you told me.

MIRANDA: Yes, but you’re special. A very understanding girl, even as a little kid. But I wasn’t understanding at all. I’m not special that way. So, I ran away.

HAYLEY: But –

MIRANDA: Not forever. I spent the night in the park, freezing to my bones, and the next morning I went to school, because I couldn’t imagine not going to school. My parents had talked to my teacher, and when she saw me she called them, and they picked me up. (beat) When we got home they sat me down and talked to me again. And they said that just because they hadn’t given birth to me didn’t mean they didn’t love me. They said they wanted to care for me and be there for me just the same, and they always had. Now that I knew about my past it didn’t change the way they’d loved me or would always love me.

HAYLEY: So you stayed.

MIRANDA: I was ten. Of course I stayed. If I had been older I would have left again.

HAYLEY: But why?

MIRANDA: Because. Biological love is different from introduced love. And I’ve never had that. That biological love. Pregnancy is the biggest commitment a woman can make with her body to a person she doesn’t even know yet, and she goes through all that trial and all that pain knowing that this little person growing inside of her will be someone she will love until the day she dies. And I’d never met the woman who had gone through all that for me. That kind of love that is stronger than anything else imaginable.

HAYLEY: I don’t understand, Mom.

MIRANDA: She didn’t love me. She couldn’t. Not the way my real mother could.

HAYLEY: Who? Grandma Carla?

MIRANDA: Yeah. She couldn’t love me, not the way a mother’s supposed to love her child. And I ran away because - I was so angry because of that. She lied to me. She didn't really love me.

HAYLEY: If that’s the way you felt, why did you adopt me?

MIRANDA: When I got older and wiser I figured that some love was better than nothing at all. Then your father and I realized that we couldn’t have children. That I couldn’t have children. And so…

HAYLEY: (not angry) And so I came along.

(MIRANDA nods. She is close to tears. She flops her arms onto the table and hangs her head. HAYLEY reaches over and covers her wrist with her hand in a comforting gesture.)

HAYLEY: Mom? Do you think you could love me more if you had given birth to me?

MIRANDA: I don’t know.

HAYLEY: I do.

MIRANDA: How can you?

HAYLEY: Because I love you.

MIRANDA: But the bond – there’s a bond that exists between a mother and her child. From pregnancy and labor and all of that. And I can’t ever have that. Not with my mother, not with a child. That is completely out of the question for me. I’ll never be pregnant or hold my little newborn baby in my arms. And I’ll never have the mother who loved me since before I was born. I can’t –

HAYLEY: But I don’t think pregnancy makes the bond between a mother and a child. It’s the eighteen years after that. It’s the lifetime after that. It’s being able to know that from time to time I hate you but only because you love me so much. It’s loving me even when you’re so mad at me you could scream. All the sacrifices you’ve made – I know you love me.

MIRANDA: I do, honey, but it’s not –

HAYLEY: And I love you. I couldn’t love you any more if you had given birth to me. You’re right, Mom. Biological love is different from introduced love. Biological love is selfish – you love something because it came from you. But introduced love is stronger, because you love something just because it’s there to be loved.

MIRANDA: (sniffling) I’m not your mother. I don’t know if it’s right that I pretend –

HAYLEY: You don’t pretend. You love me, genuinely, and I love you. I don’t care who gave birth to me because you’re the one that loves me. Sure, I’m curious about what she’s like. But you’re still my mom. I don’t need to go replacing you.

MIRANDA: But I replaced somebody else –

HAYLEY: I love you, Mom. That’s all I care. (stands) Now I’m going to go take a shower, because I smell terrible. And I have a ton of homework to do.

(She starts to exit into the house, stage left.)

MIRANDA: Hayley?

HAYLEY: What?

MIRANDA: Any time you want, anything you want to know, ask me. If I don’t know the answer I will help you find it.

HAYLEY: I know, Mom.

(She turns to leave again.)

MIRANDA: Honey?

HAYLEY: What?

MIRANDA: (smiles) Good job on that science test.

HAYLEY: (smiles back) Thanks.

(She goes off left into the house. MIRANDA sits for a few moments in silence, then picks up her paper and pen and starts writing again.)

MIRANDA: Dear Mrs. Jeanne Halifax –

(She stops, stares at her letter, then pushes it to the side. She picks up another sheet of paper and begins another letter.)

MIRANDA: Dear Mom. I wanted to let you know that I found my birth mother. Her name is Jeanne Halifax, and I intend to write her and ask if we should meet. I want to be sure that you know I love you, and meeting my birth mother won’t change the fact that you have been my mother from as long as I can remember. I still love you very much.

(She pauses for a moment and wipes a tear from her eye. When she goes on, her voice is cracking and just above a whisper.)

MIRANDA: I’m sorry for running away.

(Lights fade out.)