Collapsible (NHB Modern Plays)

Margaret Perry

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781788501552
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

Essie's lost her job. Her girlfriend's left. But she's alright. Except lately she feels more like a chair than a person. One of those folding chairs. Solid one minute. And then.

Margaret Perry's play Collapsible is a funny, furious monologue about holding on in this collapsing world. It was premiered at the 2019 VAULT Festival, London, where it won the Origins Award for Outstanding New Work.

It transferred to the 2019 Edinburgh Festival Fringe and the Bush Theatre, London, in a co-production between Ellie Keel Productions and HighTide.

ESSIE. I spend a lot of time on the internet. Especially lately.

The internet knows me so well. The internet tells me which cute animal I am (lamb). Which John Hughes movie I am (Pretty in Pink). Which classic car I am (Cadillac). Which roasted meat I am (lamb). Which sandwich I am (BLT). Which major European city I am (Paris). Which condiment I am (mustard). Which element on the Periodic Table I am (neon). Which type of rabbit I am (dwarf). Which US President I am (Nixon. Nixon? I try again. Obama). The internet tells me I’m a Miranda, a Ravenclaw, a Mulan, a Laura Palmer. A dog person, a beach person, a winter person, a cupcake person, a martini person, a lake person, a bird person. The internet tells me I’m an introvert. The internet tells me I’m an extrovert. The internet tells me I sometimes like to go out and sometimes to stay in.

And then there’s this video I’ve watched over and over again, of this 1950s housewife on LSD. Back then they were doing clinical trials on humans, and this housewife, meek and shy as they come, has volunteered, and they’ve chosen her because she’s undergone psychological testing and been found to be a stable, normal person. This doctor sits her down and explains everything and gives her a glass of water with a tiny measure of lysergic acid in it. She drinks it down and he waits a bit and then starts to ask her questions. And there’s this one moment – this one – this one moment that I can’t forget where he says, ‘Mary, how do you feel?’ And she says, ‘I don’t understand the question.’ And he points to her and says, ‘How do you feel?’ And she smiles this serene smile. ‘Why, doctor,’ she says, ‘There is no me. There is no you.’ Like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. And she looks so happy, so light.

And that’s where the video ends but I always imagine her when the LSD wears off, putting on her coat and her scarf like ballast, trying to weigh herself back down.

***

It started like this. I lost my job.

Not my fault I just. Never mind.

My sister’s arranged to meet me for dinner and I know it’s because Mum’s asked her to check up on me but I go anyway to prevent further questions, and also because, food. She’s brought The Boyfriend. I’ve not ordered very much because it’s not clear if they’re going to pay for my meal or if I am. I’m eating my meal very slowly so as not to reveal how small it is and Maura says, are you not hungry Essie, and I say not really which is a lie, I’m always hungry, my metabolism could enter the Olympics if there was a category for metabolisms which of course, there isn’t.

So Essie. What’s going on with you?

Not much.

Mum says you haven’t been answering her calls.

I’ve been really busy.

Right.

Maura chews. Swallows.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in, see if you’re alright?

Pause.

Look up at her worried face and that’s when I say it, I don’t know what possesses me to say it but I say:

I feel like a chair.

Long pause.

The Boyfriend, Derek he’s called, she’s had him surgically attached, stares down at his menu even though we ordered ages ago.

What’s that? You feel like what?

Eh –

A chair?

Never mind, I just –

Like, that chair, there?

She points to a nearby empty chair, dark wood, a trendy, aloof chair.

Not exactly like that one, no.

Derek’s listening now. I can’t look at his punchable face.

What – sort of chair, then, is it that you feel like?

Like, one of those folding chairs, you know?

A deckchair.

Not a deckchair.

Pause.

More like, you know, sort of a garden – chair?

A sun lounger?

One of those chairs you can fold and unfold. I say. Those collapsible chairs. Solid one minute and then.

She’s shrinking back from me. The stretch of table between us widens and deepens into a canyon.

Now Maura’s looking at the menu but Derek’s looking at me. Her hand on his wrist, wrapped tight as his watch.

Derek, would you please get the bill.

He’s staring at me.

Derek!

Mmm, he says, yeah. He turns for a waiter.

They pay for my tiny meal. I wish I’d known. I’d have had steak.

***

Liz tells me about the new couch she’s ordered from Sweden where they really know about design. She tells me about a holiday she’s booking with her most recent squeeze, someone called Hayley who works in travel so she’s getting them a great deal on one of those hotels where you just press a button and a person appears holding a cocktail.

What’s that smell, Liz?

Fennel and cracked sea salt.

She gestures to a huge candle burning in the window.

Wow.

It’s this new thing I’ve started doing. I buy myself something nice once a week, something I don’t really need, that’s just for me. With the world the way it is, I think it’s really important to practise self-care, don’t you?

I –

Are you taking care of yourself, Essie?

Course.

Good. It’s so important to make time to do something for you. Get a pedicure. Have a bath. It all matters. It’s all political, isn’t it.

Political?

Yes. How we live, it’s politicised, of course it is.

Leave it, I think, leave it but then –

What political statement does having a bath make...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Contents
• Original Production
• Acknowledgements
• Dedication
• Epigraph
• Characters
• Some Notes on Production
• Collapsible
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information