MARIJA (66)
STANISLAVA (42): Marija’s daughter
KATHRYN or KITTY (17): Stanislava’s daughter
An apartment building in Riga, Latvia. Midnight. MARIJA stands by a gas stove, wearing a dressing gown. Her hair is done up with rollers. Her eyes dart between the kettle, the clock on the wall, and the kitchen door.
Before the kettle starts to whistle, MARIJA turns off the gas and pours the boiling water into a coffee mug. She takes the mug and tiptoes towards the kitchen unit. She bashes into a stool. The stool hits a bucket. Several plastic tubs spill from it, making a loud noise. MARIJA tries to push the stool aside, but her leg kicks the bucket again. The noise is even louder.
Listening for anyone coming, MARIJA tries to open the door of the kitchen unit quietly. She takes out a pack of cigarettes and matches and tiptoes towards the window. But just before she reaches it, she steps inside the cat’s bowl. An even louder noise echoes throughout the kitchen.
Loud, hurried footsteps. MARIJA manages to stuff the cigarettes and matches inside her dressing-gown pocket just as STANISLAVA enters the kitchen. She stands in the doorway, wearing a dressing gown, with rollers in her hair.
STANISLAVA: Don’t even think about smoking inside.
MARIJA: But I can’t take it any more. It’s gone midnight. Where is she?
STANISLAVA walks towards the stove and lifts the kettle. It’s almost empty, so she walks over to the sink to fill it up again. MARIJA rushes over to help her. While MARIJA talks, she tries to yank the kettle out of STANISLAVA’s hands. STANISLAVA doesn’t let her.
MARIJA: Don’t stay up for her, darling. If you don’t get enough sleep, you’ll have another headache tomorrow. And all because that airhead doesn’t want to come home at a godly hour. Oh, my sweet angel . . . If you can’t get to sleep, I’ve got some sleeping pills. Shall I fetch them for you? Just a quarter of a dose?
STANISLAVA doesn’t reply. MARIJA is still trying to yank the kettle out of her hands.
MARIJA: What tea would you like Mummy to make you?
STANISLAVA tries to fill the kettle from the tap, but MARIJA doesn’t let go.
MARIJA: Now, now . . . It’s OK. Everything’s fine . . . Here, let me . . . I’ll help you, my angel.
STANISLAVA: I can do it myself!
MARIJA: Just go and sit down. I’ll do it for you!
They fight over the kettle. STANISLAVA finally gains the upper hand.
STANISLAVA: I said I can do it myself!
MARIJA: Oh, for God’s sake . . . What times we live in . . . My own daughter won’t let her mother treat her to a nice cup of tea . . . All that pride won’t do you any good, you know. You should let people do something nice for you every once in a while.
STANISLAVA: Mum, go to bed.
MARIJA: Would you like a pastry? Oh, they’re so lovely. With raspberry filling, made fresh this morning. I bought them from that bakery round the corner.
STANISLAVA: Just go to bed!
MARIJA: You know perfectly well that I won’t be able to get to sleep until Kitty has had a decent meal in her. That poor child walks around hungry for days on end. Skin and bones, she is. And I made these yummy meatballs earlier. Would you like a bite?
STANISLAVA: Don’t start coming at me with your meatballs again.
MARIJA: Oh, I made them from this juicy cut of pork. Would you like some fried potatoes to go with it?
STANISLAVA: Mum, I have a gastric ulcer! How many times do I have to tell you that I can’t have anything fatty or fried?
MARIJA: Don’t worry, darling. I wasn’t going to use much oil. Just a teensy-tiny bit. Just enough to heat it up. They’ll literally melt in your mouth, you’ll see!
STANISLAVA: I’m not going to have meatballs at half past one in the morning! Do you really want me to die?
MARIJA: There’s no need to raise your voice. I was just offering, that’s all. And, anyway, you said you went out to the Lido restaurant last week and had meatballs for lunch. They can’t have been as good as mine.
STANISLAVA pours herself some tea. She takes the mug and goes to her room, but MARIJA rushes over to help.
MARIJA: Here, I’ll carry that for you, sweetheart.
STANISLAVA doesn’t let go of the mug. MARIJA continues to pull it towards her until the mug falls on the floor. The scorching water catches STANISLAVA’s hands.
STANISLAVA: Why do you have to rip things from my hands? Without your permission, I can’t even touch a saucepan in this kitchen!
MARIJA: That’s what happens when you try to do things for yourself. It’s always better to let your mother take care of everything. Come, darling. Let’s run some cold water over your hands.
MARIJA takes STANISLAVA by the hand and leads her to the sink, but STANISLAVA breaks free.
STANISLAVA: Can’t you see it hurts?
MARIJA: Shh, Mummy will make everything right again. Oh, my sweet angel, how did this happen? Let me make you another cup of tea.
The front door slams. KITTY walks into the kitchen, dressed in nothing but a bra and sweatpants, holding an open bottle of lager in her hand. She takes off her trainers, ready to go to her room.
KITTY: Hey! Got any grub?
STANISLAVA: Kathryn, come here right now.
KITTY steps back, but STANISLAVA grabs her by the hand and pulls her into the kitchen.
STANISLAVA: Where’s your top?
KITTY: Haven’t got one.
STANISLAVA: What do you mean, you haven’t got one?
KITTY: It split.
MARIJA (sighs in mock exasperation): Just give it to me. I’ll mend it.
KITTY: I said I haven’t got it. I chucked it.
MARIJA: You threw away that nice T-shirt I gave you? It wasn’t some cheap rag, you know. I bought it from a brand store.
STANISLAVA: Mum, stay out of it.
KITTY: Yeah, chill, Nan. I’ve got other tops.
MARIJA: Tell me where exactly you lost it. I’ll go and find it.
STANISLAVA (to MARIJA): Calm down.
KITTY: Er . . . Dunno.
MARIJA: Right. I go out and buy her a nice, pretty top with my pension, and she “chucks it” at the first opportunity! Why? So you can prance around half-naked like some hooker? I’m surprised you’ve still got trousers on, my dear.
STANISLAVA (to KITTY): What’s that in your hand?
KITTY: Beer. Obviously.
STANISLAVA: Give me that.
KITTY: No way! Go to the petrol station and get your own.
MARIJA (to STANISLAVA): Darling, I have half a bottle of cognac in my room if you need something to help you get to sleep?
STANISLAVA: No. I don’t want any alcohol.
KITTY: Well, I do.
MARIJA: You don’t deserve my expensive cognac. Carry on drinking that shit. Did you know that they only sell moonshine in shops these days? Aidis Tomsons was talking about it on Channel One just the other day. That’s right. I might be ancient, but I like to keep my finger on the pulse.
STANISLAVA (to KITTY): Where were you?
KITTY: Got stuck. In my own arse. (Burps loudly.)
MARIJA (to KITTY): Right. You should eat something. What would you like, darling? I’ve got meatballs with some fried potatoes, and a nice raspberry pastry to go with it . . .
KITTY: Meatballs with pastry.
MARIJA starts fussing around the gas stove.
STANISLAVA (to KITTY): Why did you switch off your phone? I was worried sick.
KITTY: So you’d leave me alone. Thank fuck Nan doesn’t have a smartphone. I’d literally kill myself if she did.
MARIJA: Don’t you feel sorry for your poor mother? She can’t get to sleep when you’re out late.
KITTY: She can’t get to sleep because you’re sitting in the kitchen all night, keeping watch.
MARIJA: Someone has to do it while you’re getting up to God-knows-what.
STANISLAVA: Stop shouting, Mum. It’s the middle of the night, for Christ’s sake.
MARIJA: Well, I’m only telling the truth.
KITTY: How many times do I have to say that I’m totally fine?
MARIJA: And how are we supposed to know that?
KITTY: You just have to know—that’s it.
MARIJA: Oh, you just wait until you have your own children. Then you’ll see.
KITTY: I’m not going to have any.
MARIJA: Because you’re selfish. Just like your father.
STANISLAVA (to MARIJA): Don’t start harping on about it . . .
MARIJA: We had nothing back then, not even a shower. I had to carry water up the staircase to our flat. And I asked him . . .
KITTY: Nan, stop stirring.
MARIJA: . . . to help me—and he keeps saying just give me a minute, but he sits by his books all day, doing nothing. Just like you. Your mother tells you to come home at a decent hour, and you keep saying just give me a minute. Next thing you know, it’s one in the morning. Well, I guess you don’t love your mother. Just like your father never did.
STANISLAVA: Mum, go and fry your meatballs, and stop talking rubbish.
KITTY: Just because I love her doesn’t mean I have to do every stupid thing she tells me.
STANISLAVA: If you’re not prepared to do “every stupid thing I tell you” then go and live with your father.
KITTY: Argh. You’re such a demagogue!
MARIJA: What’s a demagogue?
STANISLAVA: Mum, I told you to stay out of it.
MARIJA: And how can I possibly do that, when we share the same roof? We should be able to discuss everything together. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m the grandmother around here; you’re my flesh and blood.
KITTY: You know I can’t just go and move in with Dad.
MARIJA: That’s right. Because he doesn’t give a flying fuck about you.
STANISLAVA: Mum, can you even hear yourself? Of course he does. Jānis is a very busy person, that’s all.
MARIJA: He’s an arsehole, if you ask me.
KITTY: Nan, how many times do I have to tell you to stop saying stuff like that about my dad? It drives me mental!
MARIJA: Can’t believe you still call that man a dad . . . If he were a decent father to you, he would have taken you to Brussels by now. He lives all by himself in a four-bedroom flat. And he has the nerve to stroll in here once a year, beaming with pride and carrying a box of Belgian chocolates as big as my fucking wardrobe, then gobble up half of it himself. What does he think we are—some charity case? That we can’t afford to buy chocolates for ourselves?
KITTY: You’re not the only one around here who’s allowed to stuff people to death with food.
STANISLAVA: Not this drama again . . . Have you both forgotten that tomorrow is a working day, and I need to be up early?
KITTY: Then why are you still here? Go to bed and let me eat my dinner.
STANISLAVA: I’m not going to sleep until you tell me exactly where you’ve been.
KITTY: What do you mean? I was out.
MARIJA: She was out drinking.
STANISLAVA: Do you really want to get arrested again?
KITTY: I don’t give a shit.
STANISLAVA: You don’t “give a shit”? Fine. In that case, from now on, I won’t be “giving a shit” either. I’ll just leave you in your cell to rot.
KITTY: Perfect. Can’t be any worse than home.
MARIJA: If I spoke to my mother like that, she would have beaten me with a wooden pole.
STANISLAVA: I guess you don’t “give a shit” about Nan either. A frail, elderly woman who’s been sitting by that window for the last two hours, worrying about you.
KITTY: Then don’t wait up for me! I don’t have the energy for all this drama again. Are the meatballs ready yet?
STANISLAVA: Well, I’m not going to bed early just to be woken up in the middle of the night by a call from the police telling us to come and fetch you from the station. I couldn’t go through that shame a second time, and pay all that money to get you out . . . What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you get it?!
KITTY: No, you don’t get it. LET ME LIVE MY LIFE!
MARIJA: I just finished watching this heavy drama. The awful things some people do to young women . . . If Kitty’s out late, all these dark thoughts start swirling around in my head . . .
STANISLAVA (to MARIJA): Mum, you’re frightening her. She’ll have nightmares again.
MARIJA: Well, if she does, it will be from drinking. Her entire organism is drenched in spirits. Women become alcoholics much sooner than men, you know.
KITTY: Can you just give me the meatballs and leave me the fuck alone? What’s the big deal?
MARIJA (to STANISLAVA): People didn’t drink so much back in my day.
STANISLAVA: Yeah, right.
MARIJA: It’s true. Shops would only sell alcohol after 2 p.m. And people didn’t go round partying in the streets like they do now. Because there was always a cop from the militsiya sat at the end of the street. If he saw anyone wandering round, he’d catch them and take them straight to a drunk tank to get their stomach pumped. Right, that’s it. Kitty, you’ll get a sore throat from drinking a cold beer.
MARIJA reaches to take the bottle from KITTY. She takes a step back and threatens to down the drink if MARIJA comes any closer.
MARIJA: Haven’t you had enough? (Smells KITTY’s hair.) And you’ve been smoking too. Come, let me get you a glass of compote instead. (To STANISLAVA.) You better pay attention to this or your daughter will turn into an alcoholic, just like my mother. Give me that shit!
STANISLAVA: Mum, it’s pointless. She’ll just go out and buy another one.
With KITTY still drinking, MARIJA tries to wrench the bottle from her hands. Despite KITTY’s best efforts, MARIJA manages to seize the bottle. While they fight, a gun falls out of KITTY’s sweatpants.
MARIJA: Sweet mother of Jesus!
MARIJA tries to pick up the gun, but KITTY is quicker. She stands up, holding the gun in her hands.
STANISLAVA: Is that a real weapon?
KITTY: No. It’s a fucking pencil.
STANISLAVA: Where did you get it from?!
MARIJA: I bet she bought it with your money. I told you that you’re spoiling her with all that pocket money, but you never listen, do you? And now look—look at what’s happened!
STANISLAVA (to KITTY): I am talking to you. Where did you get this weapon from?
KITTY: From Christian. The pigs got him.
MARIJA: Thank God for that!
STANISLAVA: What did he do?
KITTY: He shot some guy.
STANISLAVA: He . . . he shot someone?
MARIJA: What’s so shocking about that? The boy is a scumbag. It was clear from the start, when I saw him walking around with those trousers, with half his arse hanging out. What good can possibly come from someone who wants to look like they’ve shat themselves?
STANISLAVA: What happened to the guy?
KITTY: I don’t think I’ve ever said anything negative about your friends, Nan. Even though Velta wears a nappy.
MARIJA: Velta had a stroke. Do you want me to slice some tomatoes for you?
KITTY: Please. With sour cream.
MARIJA: And a little pinch of salt.
STANISLAVA: Kitty, what happened to them?
KITTY: Nothing. He called the pigs.
STANISLAVA: Did you call the ambulance?
KITTY: Relax. It’s just an airgun. (Swings the gun around.) If you wanted to stuff real bullets in here, you’d have to cut a bigger hole.
STANISLAVA: I’m not even going to ask you where you got that information from.
MARIJA: Nowadays, you can find everything on the “intranet”.
KITTY: Look, pepper balls are totally harmless. Just stings like a bitch when you’re hit. But at least he won’t be bothering you again.
STANISLAVA: Who?
KITTY: Oh, you know . . . That creep who was harassing you. Our neighbour.
STANISLAVA: Who are you talking about?
MARIJA: Surely, you don’t mean Maigurs? From flat five. Late Zigrīda’s son.
KITTY: Yeah, that’s him. But we call him Marshmallow. Because his name sounds like that marshmallow brand Maigums. Like, Maigurs—Maigums—Marshmallow . . .
STANISLAVA: Your “gang” shot him because you thought he was harassing me?
MARIJA: Oh, big deal. You’re turning this into an inquisition while the food is getting cold. Bon appétit!
MARIJA puts a plate of meatballs on the table.
STANISLAVA: No one is going to eat right now.
MARIJA: Wha . . . What do you mean?
STANISLAVA: Kathryn, go to your room. We’re going to have a serious chat about what happened.
MARIJA: But you don’t even know when she had her last meal!
STANISLAVA: Kathryn. Go to your room!
KITTY: Oh, get off my case, Mum. Seriously, what’s your problem?
MARIJA: Let her eat; you can have your “serious chat” afterwards.
STANISLAVA picks up the plate with meatballs and smashes it against the wall.
KITTY: Have you lost your fucking mind?
MARIJA bends down to pick up the meatballs, but STANISLAVA stomps on them.
MARIJA (to KITTY): I was breastfeeding her for a whole year. And look at how she repays me!
STANISLAVA looks around her, grabs the glass of compote and smashes it against the wall.
MARIJA: So much love went into making it. (Starts to cry.) They always say that it’s better to live with strangers than your own flesh and blood. When I was making beetroot soup for Velta—with sour cream—after she had a stroke, she was full of thanks . . . So kind and grateful. Meanwhile, my own daughter stomps all over my food.
KITTY: Granny, it’s OK. Come on. Stop crying.
Holding onto the airgun with one hand, KITTY tries to soothe MARIJA. She embraces her.
MARIJA: No one needs me around here.
STANISLAVA: I’m so sorry, Mum.
KITTY: We do, Granny. We need you a lot.
MARIJA: No. You’d all rather I was dead.
KITTY: Nan, what are you talking about? Stop crying, OK?
STANISLAVA: I didn’t mean it, Mum.
MARIJA: I can’t speak my mind any more without you smashing up my plates. Oh, all my little ceramic vases . . . all smashed to pieces. We won’t have any plates left at this rate.
STANISLAVA: I’ll buy you a brand new set of tableware, Mum.
MARIJA (to KITTY): Come. Let’s eat in my room. I’ll heat up some fresh meatballs for you. And then we’ll have a nice, soothing fag out of my window.
KITTY and MARIJA walk towards MARIJA’s room.
STANISLAVA: Kitty, stay.
MARIJA (to STANISLAVA): You haven’t the faintest idea what poverty is. That’s why you feel like you can just play with your food like that.
KITTY: Granny, stop it. Everything’s OK, innit?
STANISLAVA: Kathryn, we haven’t finished our chat.
KITTY: Fuck off! You’re an idiot. Look at what you’ve done. You’ve made Nan cry.
STANISLAVA: I’m your mother, you little shit, and you will not speak to me like that!
STANISLAVA grabs KITTY by the arm and pulls the girl towards her.
KITTY: Let go of me, Mum!
MARIJA: Let the child go!
MARIJA grabs KITTY by the other arm (which is still holding onto the airgun) and drags her towards her room.
STANISLAVA: Everyone else has nice, normal kids. Why can’t you be like them? I hate both of you! I can’t stand the sight of you!
MARIJA: Let go of Kitty, you witch!
STANISLAVA: She’s my daughter and she’ll do as I say!
MARIJA: Don’t forget that she’s also my granddaughter!
KITTY: Mum, let go! (They fight.) It hurts!
STANISLAVA grabs KITTY by the hair and pulls her towards her room. KITTY screams.
MARIJA: Oh, you little cunt . . .
MARIJA is preparing to hit STANISLAVA when KITTY fires the airgun. A loud gunshot echoes throughout the kitchen, filling the room with pungent smoke. The airgun falls on the floor. Coughing, they crawl around the floor, with tears stinging their eyes.
STANISLAVA: Everyone alive?
MARIJA: Oh, my lovely girls . . . why are we always acting like this? There’s no harmony in this house! We used to get on so well, when dear Antons was still alive—God rest his soul. Oh, what happened to us?
STANISLAVA: It’s because he always did as you said.
MARIJA: Well, we did have the occasional argument, of course . . .
MARIJA is the first one to crawl to the sink. She opens the tap and rinses her eyes.
STANISLAVA: It’s because you’re incapable of keeping your mouth shut.
MARIJA: Well, yes. I do feel the need to voice my opinions. So what? And don’t we always have a good laugh afterwards? Come here, girls. I’ll help you rinse your eyes.
KITTY and STANISLAVA crawl towards the sink.
MARIJA: Right. I’ll get everything sorted. Then we’ll put on some Nivea cream and have a few pastries. (To STANISLAVA.) Darling, would you like one? With a nice, soothing cup of tea?
STANISLAVA: No, thank you.
MARIJA: Oh, go on—one little pastry won’t hurt.
STANISLAVA: No. Thank you.
MARIJA: As they like to say these days—no means no! Oh, Kitty, you poor child, you didn’t get to eat your dinner. Just hold on a minute. I’ll get it sorted. (Looks at the floor.) Argh, I’m going to have to clean up this mess too. (To STANISLAVA.) You’re never the one cleaning up. That’s why you feel like you can just go around smashing all my ceramics.
STANISLAVA: I’ll clean it up.
MARIJA: Oh, it’s fine. I’ll do it, darling. Don’t you worry.
STANISLAVA: I said I’ll do it.
MARIJA: Sit down!
STANISLAVA sits down. MARIJA starts cleaning the kitchen.
STANISLAVA (to KITTY): You OK?
KITTY: At least I’ve never pulled you by the hair.
STANISLAVA: I’m so sorry.
MARIJA (picking up the gun from the floor): Right. We’ll just put this over here . . . (Puts the gun in the kitchen cupboard.) Away from sin.
KITTY (to STANISLAVA): Why do you get so worked up every time I stay out late?
STANISLAVA: Kathryn, do you really want to end up in prison?
MARIJA: The food has gone completely cold. I’ll have to heat it up again.
KITTY: I’m not going to end up in prison.
STANISLAVA: That’s what everyone says. It always starts with petty crimes, vandalism . . . And now this. (Points towards the gun). What’s next, Kathryn?
MARIJA: Next time, your dad can go and get you from the police station. Let him try and raise you for once.
KITTY (to STANISLAVA): It’s not fair. You’re the one who said Maigurs was harassing you, and now you’re having a go at me?
STANISLAVA: When did I say that?
KITTY: Well, not to me exactly. But you said it to Nan.
MARIJA: Yes. You did.
KITTY: We noticed you’ve been coming home late. And yesterday, Nan told me you had a chat about it.
MARIJA (to STANISLAVA): And then I said, is there a man in your life? and you said, Yes. Maigurs. Oh, don’t give me that look. How was I supposed to know that she’d go off to shoot him? (To KITTY.) In fact, Kitty, that’s not very nice of you. I tell you something in private, and now everyone is mad at me. As usual.
KITTY: Come on, Mum . . . Don’t be like that. Everything’s OK.
MARIJA: Oh, darling, he didn’t deserve you anyway, so there’s really no need to get upset over it.
STANISLAVA: According to your standards, the Pope himself wouldn’t deserve me.
MARIJA: It’s just that . . . Maigurs . . . how should I put this . . . He’s always been a bit . . . strange.
STANISLAVA (sarcastically): Of course he has . . .
MARIJA: Would I lie to you, my own flesh and blood? Dagnija—you know, the girl from the pharmacy? She told me that Maigurs stores his urine in glass jars! And each jar even has its own label. I swear to God.
KITTY: Do you really want to be dating a guy who drinks his own piss?
MARIJA: God only knows who your mother would be seeing by now if I didn’t intervene.
STANISLAVA: Probably no one, because you’d send my daughter off to shoot them.
KITTY: I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to scare him a bit, so he’d stop harassing you.
MARIJA puts the dinner on the table.
MARIJA: Right—bon apétit!
KITTY sits down at the table and eats.
KITTY: Thank you.
MARIJA (to STANISLAVA): Are you sure you don’t want anything?
STANISLAVA: No, thank you.
MARIJA: We have some yoghurt . . .
STANISLAVA: No—thank you!
MARIJA: Fine. Jesus. I was only offering.
KITTY: I told Maigurs to leave you alone, because you’re still married to my dad. You just happen to live separately, because Dad works at the embassy in Belgium. He made it out like he didn’t get what I was saying. And then he said, how can they still be together if they got divorced ten years ago?
STANISLAVA: And I wonder where he got that information from . . .
MARIJA: Well, yes, I did talk to his late mother about it . . . Back when Kitty’s father was lurking under our windows, bawling his eyes out for you.
STANISLAVA: Of course you did.
KITTY: Then Christian hit him, just once. And then he held him down, so I could shoot him. But when the pigs got there, Christian said that he was the one who fired the gun.
STANISLAVA: So it was you who fired the gun?
KITTY: Chill. It’s no big deal. It’s just an airgun. I mean, we’re OK, innit?
MARIJA: The smoke is scratching my throat a bit.
STANISLAVA: And what if it hadn’t been an airgun?
KITTY: Well . . . then it wouldn’t have been an airgun.
STANISLAVA: You would have killed someone, Kathryn!
KITTY: But I thought he was harassing you!
Suddenly, STANISLAVA bursts out laughing.
KITTY: What’s wrong with you?
STANISLAVA: This is so ridiculous. I’m going to have to start taking Corvalol again.
MARIJA: Oh, darling. Just a minute. I’ll put a few drops on a sugar cube for you.
KITTY: She’s got a stomach ulcer, Nan. She can’t have any sugar.
STANISLAVA: That ulcer can . . . fuck off! (Laughs louder and louder.)
KITTY: Mum, are you OK?
MARIJA puts a few drops of Corvalol on a sugar cube and spoon-feeds it to STANISLAVA, who swallows it like a helpless baby.
KITTY: Why are you laughing? He might be some kind of maniac.
MARIJA: Oh yes. He definitely looks like one . . .
KITTY: Did he ever try to drag you into his flat, and put something in your drink?
MARIJA: Like in the Streets of Broken Lights, that Russian TV series? There was an episode just like that.
STANISLAVA: I’ve never even spoken to him.
There’s a moment’s silence, then MARIJA starts laughing, too.
STANISLAVA (to MARIJA): You asked me why I’ve been coming home so late and if there was a man in my life . . . What a ridiculous thought! Maigurs was taking his dog out for a walk that day. He was the first thing that came to my mind.
MARIJA (laughing even louder): Oh, dearie me! How funny is that!
They both laugh like crazy.
KITTY (looking at both of them, confused): But, Mum . . . Why did you lie?
MARIJA: And Maigurs, of all people!
STANISLAVA: I know!
MARIJA: And I just fell hook, line and sinker. Swallowed your every word.
STANISLAVA: How did I come up with something so stupid?
MARIJA: At first I thought—with Maigurs? But you’re total strangers. Well, neighbours, saying this and that, hello, goodbye. OK, I thought. Maybe you’ve caught each other’s eye? But how would I have missed it?
STANISLAVA: I know!
MARIJA: Oh, you clever little fox. You’re just like my mum. But come to think of it, he’s actually a decent chap.
KITTY: He’s a moron.
MARIJA: Moron or not, at least he’s a pianist. He used to teach piano at the Riga Music High School.
STANISLAVA: Oh my word, how crazy is that . . .
MARIJA: I was a bit suspicious, you know. He might actually fancy you. You never know.
STANISLAVA: Mum, stop fantasizing.
MARIJA: It could well be true. I’ve never seen him with a woman though. That’s a bit odd.
STANISLAVA: That’s because he’s gay.
MARIJA: Is he?! Well, at least he’s polite. When I was coming home from the shop the other day, he held the door open for me and said, good morning, how is your daughter doing?
STANISLAVA: Mum!
MARIJA: OK, maybe he didn’t use those exact words, but he left me with a good overall impression. Right. We’ve had a good laugh, haven’t we? And Kitty has finished her dinner—would you like anything else, darling?
KITTY (shaking her head): No, thank you.
MARIJA: Right, then we can all finally go to bed. I’ll wash up tomorrow morning. (To STANISLAVA.) Listen, I bleached your white smock and hung it up in the wardrobe, so you can wear it to work tomorrow.
KITTY (to STANISLAVA): Does that mean you’ve been coming home late because you’re going over to the other flat?
STANISLAVA and MARIJA look at each other.
MARIJA: What other flat?
STANISLAVA: Kitty, we’ll discuss it tomorrow.
KITTY: You said you were going to sell it.
MARIJA: Are you saying that you want to move out?
STANISLAVA: Mum, you know perfectly well that I do.
MARIJA: But you don’t have to do anything around here. Laundry is done, dinner made . . . And Kitty’s sorted. Looked after and fed. How did you like those meatballs, darling?
KITTY nods her head in approval.
MARIJA (to STANISLAVA): This is your home. You’ve both grown up here. Remember how you used to sit outside, under that big chestnut tree with my mum? Oh, or the time she cut her nose? You were both just sitting there, pretty as a picture, when this storm came out of nowhere. She was so scared that you’d get soaked and catch a cold that she rushed you both inside. She tripped over the first step and fell over like a log. I was in hysterics.
KITTY (to STANISLAVA): You promised we wouldn’t move.
STANISLAVA: We’re not going to discuss that now. We’re all far too tired for this.
MARIJA: Yes, morning is wiser than the evening.
KITTY: I’m not going to live in that horrible place.
STANISLAVA: But Kitty . . . can’t you see it with your own two eyes?
MARIJA: See what?
STANISLAVA: I’ve thought about it a lot, and I keep putting it off. But after tonight’s events it’s crystal clear. We just can’t go on like this.
MARIJA: Oh, my baby . . . What are you saying?
STANISLAVA: Kathryn and I are moving out.
KITTY: I told you I’m not living in those stupid Soviet blockhouses!
STANISLAVA: It’s okay, Kitty. We don’t have to move right away.
MARIJA: What blockhouses?
STANISLAVA: I’ve found an amazing two-bedroom flat in Dreiliņi.
MARIJA: In Dreiliņi?
KITTY: I’m not going to live there. I’m not.
STANISLAVA: But you haven’t even seen it yet. There’s a forest and a lake, literally on our doorstep. It’s so lovely and cosy. I know you’ll take one look at the place and fall in love with it.
KITTY: I’m not moving out.
STANISLAVA: But look at what’s happening to us here! The three of us just don’t get on. It might be easier if it’s just the two of us.
KITTY: I’m staying here.
STANISLAVA: It’s not far from here. Just a few stops on the bus. We’ll come and visit. We’ll all go for a nice long walk in the forest when Nan comes over. Come on. Think about it. It will be better for all of us.
MARIJA: I’m sorry, but I don’t think you fully understand what you’re saying.
STANISLAVA: Oh, I’m the one who doesn’t understand?
MARIJA: You want Kitty to live in a Soviet blockhouse? Don’t you know how toxic they are? Or is the health of this poor child no longer your concern?
STANISLAVA: Oh, please! The cigarettes you give her are toxic.
MARIJA: Do I give them to her? She buys her own fags, with the money you give her, and you know it. Do you think she’ll just magically quit smoking once you’ve moved?
STANISLAVA: OK. Whatever. Let her smoke then. There’s a balcony.
MARIJA (sarcastically): There’s a balcony, how lovely.
STANISLAVA: Kitty, you can smoke on the balcony.
MARIJA: And what is she going to do in the winter? Have you even thought about that? Go out in the cold and catch the flu? At least here, she can smoke by the wood burner.
STANISLAVA: Well, of course, she can smoke by the wood burner here, because no one around here cares about me. I’ve had to breathe your toxic fumes my entire life—yours, Anton’s and Nana’s. And now that they’re dead, you can’t wait to get your hands on my child.
MARIJA: My mother didn’t die of smoking: she poisoned herself with carbon monoxide. Those are two completely different things.
STANISLAVA: She fell asleep with a cigarette in her hands!
MARIJA: Of course. She was bladdered. That’s why I keep telling you that you shouldn’t allow Kitty to have any alcohol.
KITTY: That’s none of your business. I’m not going to stop drinking just because you tell me to. And the more you try, the more I’ll drink.
MARIJA: Listen to this! Stubborn as a goat. Just like her father.
STANISLAVA: Of course, naturally she inherited all her bad qualities from her father. Your child is sorted; looked after and fed . . . While I’ve been at work, you’ve put something in Kathryn— something I never wanted her to have.
MARIJA: Oh, what a terrible granny I am. Forcing you to flee your own home because of my evil ways.
STANISLAVA: And how are you helping exactly? By forcing cigarettes on everyone and stuffing our faces with your carcinogenic meatballs?
MARIJA: What did you call them?
STANISLAVA: At least the saucepan is half decent, thank God. You used to insist that we change the oil once a year. No wonder Antons ended up in the Forest Cemetery so quickly.
MARIJA: What are you trying to say?
STANISLAVA: That you’re not leading a particularly healthy lifestyle either . . .
KITTY: Why does everything always have to be perfect with you?
MARIJA: Hold on a minute, let me get this straight . . . You’re saying that I killed my own mother, then I killed my husband and now I’m just waiting for the right opportunity to get my greedy hands on you and Kitty? Is that what you’re trying to say?
STANISLAVA: No. I’m just saying that it’s not healthy to use the same cooking oil twice when you fry meatballs, because that can cause cancer. But you never listen to me, do you? You just go on and on with the same old rubbish.
KITTY: Everything on this fucking planet can cause cancer. And what should we do about it? Stop breathing?
MARIJA (to STANISLAVA): How dare you . . . During the war, my mother would have traded her last pair of knickers for a drop of oil or a blob of butter, and you’re saying that it’s “carcinogenic”? You should be ashamed of yourself. Going around like that, spreading your disgusting lies. Saying that I’ve . . . my husband . . . my own mother!
STANISLAVA: You’re the one who gave Nana cigarettes in bed.
MARIJA: I didn’t give her the fags.
STANISLAVA: Oh, come off it, Mum!
MARIJA: It wasn’t me!
STANISLAVA: I remember exactly what happened.
MARIJA: Oh, you really deserve to be put in a straitjacket. All you do is go around spreading vicious lies about me. I loved my mother like no one.
STANISLAVA: Like no one. Exactly.
MARIJA: Don’t put words in my mouth! Maybe I can’t express myself as eloquently as you, the educated lot. But I cared for my mother until her dying breath!
STANISLAVA: Oh, yes. That’s all you’ve ever wanted—to be surrounded by people who are completely incapable of looking after themselves. So that you can smother them in your “love”.
MARIJA: Well, I would like to see your manicured fingers changing a dying person’s nappy. When she broke her hip, you wouldn’t come anywhere near her room. It stinks in here, it stinks! Well, of course, it’s going to stink, if someone’s forced to shit in bed. You try and care for someone who’s dying, and then we’ll talk about the meaning of love.
STANISLAVA: And I will, if I have to.
MARIJA: I won’t be holding my breath.
STANISLAVA: I will.
MARIJA: You can’t even make a sandwich without my help. How are you going to care for anyone?
STANISLAVA: That’s because you never let me. You always know what’s best. And I’m so stupid that I can’t even . . .
MARIJA: Have I ever called you stupid?
KITTY: She is stupid though.
MARIJA: Don’t talk about your mother like that!
