Family Functions (Working Title) -Marion Pearson

--A little about my piece: This bit started out as an assignment in my scriptwriting class during my senior year in college. As one of our first assignments, we were simply asked to write a dialogue. I was absolutely delighted when our professor took them up, and then re-distributed them to have them read aloud by our classmates. Hearing my piece read as a script was so exciting! To this day, I still can't decide whether I like this better as a dialogue or as a short story, but I thought I'd give it a shot both ways. (I might bring it in as a script to the next meeting.) Anyway: the story focuses on a pair of siblings, Karen and Jase. Having begun their lives in the lower middle-class, they were thrust into an upper-class society when their mother left their father. The two were always very close to one another, shared many likes and dislikes, and looked out for one another. However, their close bond began to crack when their family broke up and, over time, all but disappeared. At the opening of the story, Jase has come to tell his sister of the death of their mother. He doesn't really know what to expect from her- but he certainly doesn't expect what he finds.

Any and all comments are welcome. As I said, this started as a script and has been adapted to a short story, so it's in raw form. I have quite a few ideas as to where to take it, but until I can decide whether I like it better as a short story or a screen-play, I will probably just keep playing with it. So, grab your red pens and your commentator hats and lay it on me! Enjoy!--


Jase made his way up the old, dilapidated stairs leading to what he assumed was still his sister's apartment. It had been nearly three months since he'd heard from Karen, and even longer since he'd seen her. Last time they had gotten together for coffee, she was acting strangely- distant almost. Jase had chalked it up to the alcohol on her breath and the hangover she appeared to be dealing with; but after a month of not hearing from her, he had started to fear the worst; especially when he tried to call and got no answer.
The apartment building that Karen MacNeil occupied was in one of the most notoriously violent neighborhoods in Jackson. Jase suspected that she was one of the very few white people that lived there. He held his breath every time the evening news flashed a story about a shooting or a robbery in her complex. Of course, she was never involved, but Jase was still protective of his younger sister as he had always been.
He finally reached the top of the stairs. The aged, wooden door directly across from the stairway had a "6" loosely nailed to it. Years before Karen had moved in, some smart ass had used a marker to scribble a "9" beside it. With heaviness in the pit of his stomach, Jase raised a fist to knock on the door. The moment his knuckles made contact with the wood, the door creaked open. Startled, Jase quickly jerked his hand away, expecting to see Karen standing in the frame. There was no one there. He waited a moment, then pushed the door open a little wider.
"Karen? Are you here?" He was answered with silence. Stepping inside, Jase was immediately hit with the strong stench of cigarette smoke, intermingled with something more herbal. The blinds on the windows were half opened, and the bright afternoon sun blazed into the dark, empty apartment. Squinting, Jase could see the junk spread all over the floor of what was, most likely, supposed to be the living room. There were clothes haphazardly strewn throughout the floor, empty cans and bottles here and there, and a stack of pizza boxes beside a ratty easy chair that probably served as a coffee table. Jase walked further in and through to the bedroom. Peeking around the door frame, he glanced at the bed; also piled with clothes. The paint was peeling off the walls, and there were sketches taped and nailed to the drywall. Karen had always had a talent for drawing, and had wanted to go into fashion design at one point. These drawings were different, though. They were angry, sad, and violent- nothing like he was used to from her. He called her name again, thinking that she might be asleep and buried under three years worth of laundry, but heard no reply. Looking at his watch, he still had two hours before he absolutely had to be home, so he turned and waded back into the living room. He pushed some old newspapers and paper plates out of the way; just enough to sit down on the couch that he was pretty sure came from the reject pile at the Salvation Army. There was no remote control in sight, so he just watched out the window for a while. Finally, he heard the old door open again. Turning, he saw Karen standing in the doorway. Besides the dark circles under her eyes, she looked as if she were wearing clothes that were two days old; and even from the door he could smell alcohol. She noticed him, but didn't seem very coherent.
"What are you doing here?" She mumbled, dropping a battered duffle bag to the floor beside the door.
"Glad to see you check your phone messages. I called you yesterday to tell you I was coming." He stood and kicked a beer can out of his path. "Love what you've done with the place. It has a real post-Hurricane Katrina motif to it."
Karen grumbled and walked toward the kitchen without even looking at him. "If you don't like it, you obviously know where the door is." She yanked open the refrigerator door and took out a bottle of beer. Jase shook his head and watched as she shuffled back toward the living room and plopped down on the easy chair.
"Nope, sorry; not this time. You didn't come home for Christmas, and no one has really heard from you since Grandma Gigi's birthday party. We were all just wondering if you were still alive."
"Oh, I see," Karen said, her tone taking a sharp sarcasm, "Mama sent you to come and check on the delinquent so you could report back to the dames of the Thorncrest Driving Club, right? Was she sober enough to remember my name, or did she put down her gin long enough to mumble, 'Go find out what that horrible girl is doing.'"
Jase looked away and replied quietly. "I came on my own, Karen."
"Well, thanks, I guess. But why bother? Your car has probably been chopped and sold by now."
"Karen, Mama died last night."
Karen didn't look up for a moment, and then took a deep breath and a long swallow of her beer. "Well, I'm awful sorry to hear about your Mother, Jase. I'm sure she'll be greatly missed; especially by the Jack Daniels distillery."
Jase was becoming increasingly annoyed by this point. "Damnit, Karen, she's your mother too. I know you are furious with her for leaving Dad, but did you ever stop to think that maybe she was happier?"
Karen's eyes narrowed as she whipped her head around to face him. "Yeah, I did, Jase. I thought about it a lot; especially when she would come home three sheets to the wind from one of those dinner parties and proceed to tell me I was too homely to be a debutante, or that I should try to lose weight and then maybe I'd find a nice boyfriend. She was really happy in her new lifestyle. Apparently, I just didn't fit in."
"Bullshit, Karen, " Jase retorted, "You never tried." He sat back down on the couch and laced his fingers together. "Look. I don't want to have this argument now. I just came to let you know that the funeral is going to be in Simmonstown tomorrow. It would be nice if you were there." He stood up and started toward the door, but stopped and turned to face the back of Karen's head. "Kay, are you alright?"
She didn't turn around. "Fine."
"I didn't mean about Mama. You look like hell. How's your job at the mall?" Jase watched as the bottom of her beer bottle rose over the top of her head.
"Lost it."
"What? When? How are you surviving?"
"I'm making it."
Jase looked arund and picked up a picture of himself with Karen when they were kids that was sitting on top of a metal popcorn container. "Have you looked for any other jobs?"
Karen tossed the beer bottle in the general direction of the kitchen. Sighing, she stood and turned to her brother. "Look, I told you, I'm ok. I'm working for a friend of mine. Drop it."
"Alright, whatever, Karen." Jase put the picture back in its precarious place. As he took his hand away, his class ring hit the edge of the frame and the popcorn container toppled to the floor. The top of the container rolled away, and 25 or 30 little plastic bags with some powdery substance spilled onto the floor. Jase bent down and took one in his hand, slowly looking up at his sister. "Karen, what the hell is this?" Again, she didn't respond; she just stared out the window. Jase dropped the baggie and walked over to the window, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward him. "Don't tell me you're selling this. You are, aren't you? Jesus, Karen, are you kidding me? You're probably using too."
Karen jerked her arm away from him and took a step back. "Hey, screw off, Jase. You make your money your way, and I'll do it mine. We can't all be lawyers."
"Yeah, well you could have been. You used to have the brains for that kind of thing." His voice was getting louder and angrier.
"What do you mean I 'used to?'"
"You obviously don't have shit for brains, or you wouldn't be into this mess." He ran a hand over his closely cut hair. "I can't believe you. I mean, you were always smarter than this." He tried to look into her eyes. "When did we grow apart?"
Karen rolled her eyes. "Don't try to guilt me, Jase. You sold out. When Mama left our Dad, you went right along with her. You forgot about Daddy, went right to that rich school and studied to be a lawyer, married the daughter of your senior partner, and bam, you became the apple of Mama's diamond-sparkled eyes. You didn't give a damn tht she left Dad with nothing. You didn't care." Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "I was the only one that cared. Daddy gave us everything we needed, but just because he wasn't rich enough for Mama, he wasn't worth your time or hers. Then that Wall Street Maverick walked in and wagged enough money in Mama's face that she left my Daddy. We got shipped off to that boarding school and two years later, Daddy put his brains all over a Wal-Mart bathroom stall. So don't act like you don't know why we grew apart."
Jase looked at her for a moment, almost too stunned to say anything. "You never forgave her for anything, did you?"
"Hell no!" Karen shot back. "Why should I? I was never good enough for her. My dreams were never enough, and she killed my Daddy. She can burn in Hell for all I care."
The last words were icy, and cut deeply into Jase. "You don't mean that. Mama loved you. She worried about you."
"Oh, real worried. So worried that she never once picked up the phone to call or come visit me. No, that might ruin her image with the Women's League." Karen turned away from him and folded her arms in front of her. "Don't feed me this sentimental crap, Jase. I can see straight through it."
"Fine. I really didn't come here to fight." He couldn't argue with her anymore- his voice was shaky and his heart was cracking. "I want you to come home, Karen. We're all at the house and the family wants to see you."
"I bet they do." She replied as she sat on the arm of the couch and reached for a pack of cigarettes. "Everyone needs an ego boost, so lets bring in the failure so we'll all feel better about ourselves."
Shaking his head, Jase took a step closer to her. "No, Karen. Everyone needs to know that you're alright. We just lost Mama, and we want to know that everyone else is ok." He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Karen, I need you. I need my little sister. I agree that Mama did a lot of hurtful things, but now she's gone. I want to make things right. Please come home with me."
She stayed quiet for a few moments, then took a long drag from her cigarette and looked at the floor. After letting out a thin stream of smoke, she ashed the cigarette into the couch cushions. "How's Allyson?"
"Hm? Oh, she's alright. Great, actually. She's pregnant. We're having a little girl," he replied, half-smiing and shoving his hands into his pockets.
Despite the dim haze, Karen's eyes brightened a little. "Hey, that's great, Jase. You're going to be a Dad."
"Yeah, it's in two months. Guess I better get back to painting that nursery." He turned and took a few steps, reaching for the doorknob. Karen watched him for a moment, taking one more drag from the cigarette and then burying it into a nearby ash tray. "Jase, wait." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Maybe I could come by some time and help you with that."
Jase nodded, almost smiling. "I'd like that."