CUSP

(excerpt)

Mary Anne Butler

Winner, 2020 AWGIE - Theatre for Young Audiences

Winner, Northern Territory Literary Award Best Script 2018

Shortlisted, 2022 NT Chief Minister’s Book of the Year

Cusp - © Copyright, Mary Anne Butler, 2019

Dramaturg: Jane Fitzgerald

Indigenous consultant: Rosealee Grimes [nee Pearson]

**

CAST:

Rosie – 18 years old, an Indigenous Australian living in Yirrkala

Elvis – 17 years old [cross cultural casting encouraged]

Maddie – 16 years old [cross cultural casting encouraged]

The playwright actively encourages cross-cultural and diverse casting across all her works.

SET - The Northern Territory, Top End of Australia:

Shady Beach, Yirrkala [a remote Northern Australian Indigenous Community]
Dondale Youth Detention Centre [Darwin]
A house in Palmerston [Darwin]
The Arnhem Club in Nhulunbuy [a remote Northern Australian Indigenous Township]
The Central Arnhem Highway
Darwin Hospital

Set is minimal. Fluid transitions between locations. Setting is suggested, not rendered literal.

**

PRODUCTION HISTORY:

Cusp was produced by Australian Theatre for Young People and premiered at Griffin’s Stables Theatre March, 2020. It had return Sydney / Darwin Festival seasons and national tour in 2023.

Shady Beach, Yirrkala

ROSIE: I love it out here. Edge of the ocean:

mangroves and stingers, crocodiles, dugong

Sunsets and sunrises.

Moons and stars.

Air draped around me like a warm wet blanket.

Feel the seasons

Change, and turn.

Sweat through the Buildup.

Dance through the Wet.

Duck as the dragonflies

herald the Dry.

Warm thick soup of the Arafura sea,

flat as a tack.

Not great for surfing

- unless there’s a cyclone.

Watch the tide surge: in, out, in, out,

A force of life:

Relentless. Incessant.

Saltwater girl, me - through and through.

Here in my safe place, where the whole world stops.

And lets me

just

be

me.

***

Dondale Youth Detention Centre

ELVIS: They ring the last bell and I hear them shuffle in and someone laughs and someone else coughs, someone swears ‘fuck off, cunt’ - and then the final clang of the big doors, metal on metal, slammin’ shut.

The bolt driven home. A bitter and final sound.

Bodie’s being shifted to the big house tomorrow. Someone’s singing’ happy birthday to him. That’s what they do in here. On your eighteenth birthday, they shift you across.

He’s gone all quiet in his cell. Be shittin’ himself. All them stories. Gettin’ it up the arse by the big fellas. Havin’ the shit punched out of you if you look the wrong way, smell the wrong way, breathe the wrong way. Not knowin’ what the right way is, just havin’ to learn that, punch by punch. Fist by fist.

Fuck.

Belly turns to jelly just thinkin’ about it.

Seven weeks, and I’m outta here. No big house for me, no way.

I’m not getting’ it up the arse, ever.

Teach my mind to rise up above here. Float out of my body.

Through the tiny window.

Between the bars.

Onto the hot tin roof.

Rise above the security cameras.

Razor wire.

Spotlights shining 24/7.

Up beyond the cobwebbed windows of the security tower;

bird-shit stained and concrete-cancered.

Past the build-up clouds, brewing dense and furious.

Float. Keep floatin’.

Escape.

Mind over matter, that’s all it is.

That’s all anythin’ is.

***

A house in Palmerston

MADDIE: Wasn’t gonna have sex. Not ‘til I was eighteen. Didn’t want to be a slut, but then – you can’t plan everythin’, can you?

…so I’m stuck up this rope wall thingy, one of those stupid trainin’ courses where they try to make everyone bond through hatin’ the instructor equally. Obstacles and pulleys and ropes and fallin’ backwards, hopin’ the others’ll catch me.

My foot gets caught in a rope square and I can't move. Everyone else is finished, and they’re all headin’ on to the next thing, and I’m just -

Frozen.

Stranded.

Scared.

Think: I’m gonna be up here forever.

And you’re the only one who notices:

head back to the rope wall thingy.

Climb up beside me.

Smile like it’s all gonna be okay.

Say: This sucks, eh? Rather be havin’ a beer.

And I tell you I’m scared of heights, and you say: Yeah. Me too.

Then you crawl down a bit.

Unhook my foot from where it’s twisted in the ropes.

Come back up. Look me in the eyes.

And I can see in your eyes that you’re somethin’ special. Somethin’ different.

Kind. They’re kind eyes.

I’m doin’ this with you, you say. Just one foot after the other.

We’re doin’ this together, okay?

And we do. Together.

And after - when you say: How’s about that beer then? I sit in your car at the bottle-o and watch you hand over the money, and I feel like a grown-up for the first time ever. Like you’re special, and you picked me, so maybe that means you think I’m special, too.

And that lets me imagine that maybe I am. Special.

Never felt special. Just always felt –

ordinary.

Below ordinary, sometimes.

You get told somethin’ long enough, you start to believe it’s real.

***

Shady Beach, Yirrkala

ELVIS: Rosie?

ROSIE: Jesus!

ELVIS: Sorry, I –

ROSIE: …what the…?

What’re you doing here?

…I thought you were /

ELVIS: I’m out.

Beat.

ROSIE: Right.

Beat.

ELVIS: Thanks for the visits, anyway.

ROSIE: Oh, shove it up your arse.

ELVIS: You coulda come.

ROSIE: I said I wasn’t gonna /

ELVIS: / you still coulda /

ROSIE: shift my entire life around to/

ELVIS: come out to /

ROSIE: / accommodate your screwups.

Beat.

ELVIS: ‘Shift your life around’? You didn’t even come once, Rosie!

ROSIE: I had my Year 12!

ELVIS: It’s not exactly shiftin’ your whole life around to get from your school to there. What is it? Twenty k’s? That plus the visit woulda taken you two hours of your life, if that!

ROSIE: Nanna got sick. I had to come back here.

ELVIS: Well you made a choice then, didn’t ya? Her over me. Year 12 over me.

Coulda written at least. Dumping me for three months without a word.

ROSIE: I meant to write, I just –

ELVIS: Nah. It’s lame, is what it is.

ROSIE: Right. Well, I got that message now. Thanks for delivering.

***

MADDIE: The first time, I seriously think I’m gonna die. I mean; that thing’s BIG, know what I mean? It’s like – how the hell do you get that thing inside here?

And it hurts like hell. And the blood, and the -

I ask my mates; you ever done this? Thalia’s the only one who has, and she says sounds like his is bigger than the average. I didn’t even know they came in different sizes; I thought they were a ‘one size fits all’ kinda deal.

But she says no; dicks are different sizes and so are moonies.

You’re shitting me, I say. What; so your vag is bigger than mine?

Who’re you callin’ slack, she says?

- and we piss ourselves laughin’, and then they ask for more details.

Second time we do it, it doesn’t hurt so much and he kind of – he – well; y’know - he kind of –

- he -

I mean; he – he goes down there. With his tongue. Know what I mean? And I am just: “GodgodgodgodOHMYGOD!!!!

I’m not even religious, it just comes out of me. Speakin’ in tongues, like my folks. And I –

- I’m just freakin’ –

Paralysed. I’m paralysed, and –

Christ. I want more, is all I can say.

So we’re kind of a couple now, I guess. Him n’ me. Me n’ him. We go places in his car, hang out at the Quarry. He gets himself a Go-Pro off ebay, and keeps it fused to his hip, shootin’ everythin’ in sight. He’s saving up for a big camera, a proper camera. Gonna to move to Sydney and make films.

I know he likes me, coz he laughs a lot when we’re together.

I’ve never made anyone laugh like that before.

Feels good, makin’ someone laugh.

Like flyin’, on the inside.

***

ROSIE: Why’re you here, Elvis?

ELVIS: I come here to dump you.

ROSIE: You drove fifteen hours to dump me?

ELVIS: I wanted to do it face to face.

ROSIE: …well that’s…

ELVIS: Bettern’ doin’ it by text.

ROSIE: Yep. Yep, it is.

So – that’s it? I’m dumped?

ELVIS: Yep.

ROSIE: Okay. Well – thanks for not doing it by text, and thanks for making the effort to come all this way.

ELVIS: You’re welcome. [Beat].

You’re worth it, Rosie. Don’t let anyone tell ya any different.

ROSIE: So… we’re just mates now?

ELVIS: Fuck no. My mates gotta be loyal.

ROSIE: [Beat] Right then. [Beat]. How’d you get here?

ELVIS: Borrowed a car.

ROSIE: You borrowed one, or you ‘borrowed’ one.

The latter.

Shit, Elvis. Don’t you ever learn?

ELVIS: It’s called ‘sharin’ resources’.

ROSIE: It’s called evo-bloody-lution.

ELVIS: It’s the last time, promise. But I had to dump you in person. Rude, otherwise. I’ll put it back. Even wash it for ‘em. Could do with a wash.

ROSIE: Well by now they’ve probably reported it, so…

ELVIS: It’s an old Troopy, been sittin’ out there for weeks. Batshit all over it. They won’t even miss it. Plus, I swapped the plates.

ROSIE: Well, that is evolution. Did you learn that inside?

ELVIS: I learned a lotta things.

ROSIE: I’m sorry, Elvis. I had so much pressure. My Nanna -

ELVIS: YOU were under pressure? Well fuck me ragged. Were you gettin’ shoved up against a wall with a –

ROSIE: I had stuff going down too. I’ve had a shitload to deal with. Not that you’d know anything about that, because you never bloody ask!

ELVIS: Woah. Settle. I’m askin’ now then. You okay?

Beat.

Look. I’m gonna say something, then I’m gonna go. [Beat] I’m changed, Rosie. Took a long hard look at meself in there. Made a deal with meself. That’s it. Straight and narrow from now on. Gonna do one of them anger management courses. Keep meself in check.

ROSIE: Okay. Well, that’s great to hear. Very responsible of you.

ELVIS: Yeah. [Beat] It’s part of the parole. Along with the curfew.

Well, I done what I come for.

ROSIE: You going back then?

ELVIS: Yep.

ROSIE: What’s that?

ELVIS: Whattd’ya reckon?

ROSIE: Bush or hydro?

ELVIS: Bush. [Beat.] Want some? [Beat.]

…call it a breakup joint….

***

MADDIE: “The test is designed to read HCG levels, which is the amount of human chorio / cherios / chorionoc” What? Speak bloody English, dickheads. Blah blah blah blah – ah; here we go. You may notice a colored solution movin’ across the test strip. You need to wait ten minutes to confirm the result.”

It says five on the packet. That’s why I bought this one.

“If only one coloured line appears as the control line, the test is negative and you can assume you are not pregnant. If two coloured lines appear, the test is positive and you can assume you are pregnant.” Assume? The bloody kit cost me twenty bucks. You’d wanna do more than assume.

“Even if the lines are very light in colour, you can still assume you are pregnant.”

One Line equals Not Pregnant. Two Lines equals Pregnant.

One line One line One line

Two.

Two lines.

…I’m…

fuck.

END EXCERPT