Scene: Mammography room
Time: Before coffee
On stage: Bobbie. Middle-aged woman wearing jeans and a fabric gown top, open in the front.
Also onstage: Technician, Rena. Rena appears completely ordinary in all ways except that her hair, shellacked in place and not subject to move even when she bobs her head, is dyed a perfect, matte medium brown, as if cotton candy has been spun out of coffee and placed on top of her head. This is not a wig.
And, scene:
Bobbie and Rena exchange pleasantries ("toy boat, toy boat"), and then Bobbie doffs her fabric gown top. She waits for the whirring machine to commence pinging and whirring, wishing she had worn pants with a wider waist. She presses her arms against her sides, attempting to be subtle, hoping to compress the muffin top of flesh. Rena is busy pressing buttons and does not notice.
It is time to step up to the machine. Barbara automatically places her hand on the handle, above the large acrylic plates and Rena gently admonishes her, “Not yet, not yet.”
“Sorry,” smiles Bobbie. “I shouldn’t try to help.”
Rena smiles. Her teeth are perfect. “You know, you probably don’t even feel very privileged. We take things for granted.”
“Uh. Yes, I guess that’s true”
“And you don’t even know how lucky you are.”
“Sure. People have a way of –”
“You know, it really makes me think. It really does. People are so selfish."
"They –"
"You know what really will make you thankful? When you see someone try to help you out, and you really notice? You notice that they are really trying to help?"
"Umm –"
"Paraplegics.”
?
And then she shoves Bobbie’s right breast into the machine.
*Names have been changed.
