The Remarkable Flight of Marnie McPhee (3 page)

She quiets down, creeps upstairs towards ALAN's bedroom on tiptoe—when suddenly she hears a noise!

From the front porch comes the clicking that we heard before, louder than we heard it before: clickity-clickity-clickity-click. And again.

Ever so quietly, holding her finger over her lips and motioning to us to do the same, she creeps towards the front door, which is ajar, and steps out onto the porch.

And there's DAD—peering into a telescope, adjusting it, with a clickity-clickity-clickity-click.

MARNIE creeps ever so quietly back into the house… but then DAD whirls the telescope around and points it directly at her!

DAD

Oh my. Oh me oh my. What's this?

MARNIE

Eeek!

DAD

Oh, it makes noise. Fascinating. A strange and distant rock formation. Is it a planet? I wonder if it's habitable. Maybe we should send a signal and see if we get a response. Yes yes, check check, sending, sending…

A sound like a seagull cawing:

Awwwk! Squaaawwk!

MARNIE

Eeek! Eeek!

DAD

Awwwk! Squaaawwk!

MARNIE

Dad, it's me!

DAD

Oh, it talks, it talks! A talking planet! McPhee to base, McPhee to base, we have a sighting of a talking planet, looks like a little girl, seems friendly but we're going to send out a crew to investigate, over.

MARNIE

Dad?

DAD

Now it appears to be talking directly to me, over.

MARNIE

Dad!

DAD

…yes?

MARNIE

What are you doing?

DAD

Oh. Nothing. And you? Why are you still up? What were you doing?

MARNIE

Oh. Nothing.

They stare at each other for a moment.

DAD glances up at the night sky.

DAD

If we lived in the country you could see way more stars than here. Hundreds. There's so much light pollution in the city. And pollution-pollution. People shouldn't be allowed to drive their cars. We sacrifice the infinite for the Honda.

MARNIE

Um… I think people need to drive… to drop their kids off at school. Et cetera.

DAD

That's true.

MARNIE

But… yeah… of course… you wouldn't want to lose the, um… the infinite.

DAD

They should teach you the map of the sky in school. Do they teach you that?

MARNIE

Sure. Um. That's the moon. And I know how to find the sun, during the daytime. And Alan showed me how to find Uranus.

DAD

Oh yeah? How? It's difficult to spot in urban environments, depending on—

MARNIE

Never mind.

DAD

You should learn the stars. Or at least a handful of important ones. The North Star. Ursa Major, Ursa Minor. The archer. You should learn where the stars should be. The star Maia, for instance, should be right there. But you can't see it from here. Which is a bit terrible, if you ask me. But what's more terrible is that most people don't even know it to miss it.

MARNIE

Show me where it should be.

DAD gets behind his telescope, adjusts the angle, the focus. He finds the spot he's looking for.

DAD

Here.

He leads MARNIE behind the telescope. She looks.

MARNIE

I don't see anything.

He adjusts the telescope, prompts her to look again.

DAD

I've been staring at this all night.

MARNIE

It's really beautiful.

DAD

What does it look like?

MARNIE

Colour. Fiery colour.

DAD

Do you know what it is?

MARNIE

…a star is dying.

DAD

It'll be doing that for hundreds of hundreds of years. It'll keep dying beyond the deaths of all our friends, everyone we know. But most of the time we can't see it. It's too far, the light's wrong, the earth's orbit is off. But it's pretty amazing, isn't it?

MARNIE

I think it's scary.

DAD

Me too. But also exciting. But also exhilarating. Because it says that there too, where we think there's fixity, eternity—is mystery. There too, things come into being and pass away.

MARNIE

It makes me sad.

DAD

Yeah. Me too.

MARNIE

…do you really think it'd be all that great to see the stars close up? I mean… do you really think it'd be so different? Like after a few minutes, I mean?

DAD

It was what I wanted. I would've practically built my own spaceship to get there.

MARNIE

Why didn't you?

DAD

What, all by myself?

He laughs.

I didn't have the right tools. Good night, sweetie. Go to bed soon.

He goes inside.

She gazes up at the stars.

MARNIE

He really does seem to love the stars, huh? I thought Dad was just weird, but is it possible he's not weird at all but actually… awesome…?

She shakes her head furiously.

No, no, no!

It's a trap!

I can't let them trick me into thinking it's okay to be like them! I have to be different! I have to be special! More of a super-human-being than they are! Or else I'll grow up and be—no! There's only one solution! It has to be tonight, tonight! I have to finish building my spaceship and get out of here before the sun's up!

To Mars! To anywhere but here!

I'll wait till they're asleep, borrow Alan's radio, and be gone.

I'm going… I'm going… I'm going…

4

Three A.M.

ALAN's bedroom.

MARNIE, creeping, singing under her breath, again à la "We're Off to See the Wizard":

MARNIE

We're inside Alan's bedroom, in the midd-ddle of the niiiiiight, in the mid-dle, mid-dle, mid-dle, mid-dle middddddle of the night, to borrow to borrow his radio, la la la la, la la la la…

She spots his radio, glowing like a Holy Grail
(or not)
above his bed. She leans in, reaches for it, smiles as she has it in her grasp—when she hits a button by accident and the radio turns on and country music blasts out!

ALAN flies out of bed!

ALAN

Thief! Thief!

The noise draws DAD and MOM; they rush in and see MARNIE!

DAD

The thief looks familiar—!

MOM

Marnie, what is this—?

ALAN

It's three in the morning—!

MARNIE

It's nothing! It's… you are still dreeeeeeaammmming…

ALAN

I don't think that'll work, Marns.

MARNIE

Oh! Eek! Bye!

She runs away. They wait for her. A moment. She returns.

Oh hi, everybody! Ah. What's everybody still doing up? It's three in the morning!

They stare at her.

MOM

Explanation, Marnie?

MARNIE

Me no speakie English.

ALAN

I'm going back to bed.

MOM

You woke your brother, Marnie.

ALAN

That's okay, I don't sleep anyway, I'm an insomniac, remember? God. People these days.

MARNIE

Sorry, Alan.

ALAN

Oh, it's not your fault. You're innocent.

MARNIE

Thanks, Alan.

ALAN

It's the adults who are corrupting what's pure in today's—

DAD

Weren't you going back to bed, Alan?

MOM

Please, do we have to do this in the middle of the night—?

ALAN

My night started three days ago, because I HAVE INSOMNIA, Mom—

DAD

Maybe you're falling asleep and dreaming you're still awake—

ALAN

Great, Dad, so I'm not an insomniac, I'm just an idiot who can't tell dreams from—

MARNIE

Stop stop stop!

They stop.

Your interrogation methods are horrible! Okay—I'll show you what I'm doing. But only if you promise you won't make me stop doing it.

MOM

Well, what is it you're doing?

MARNIE

No, promise me first.

MOM

How can we promise if we don't know what the promise entails?

ALAN

Mom's a logician, Marnie. It's like a magician, but less fun.

DAD

I promise you I'll promise if it's a promiseable promise.

MARNIE

And if it isn't?

DAD

I promise I'll hope it is.

ALAN

Don't worry, Marnie, they'll probably forget about it within a couple of days anyway.

MOM

That's not true. Why would you say that?

ALAN

Because your short-term memory is starting to fail. It's perfectly natural, if a little sad—

DAD

Very nice, Alan—

MARNIE

Arrêtez!

Ils arrêtent.

Come with me. It's in the basement.

She leads them into the basement.

Now, I don't want you to be shocked. Or alarmed! So don't be. It's not what it looks like.

They stare at her. She goes over to her would-be spaceship and pulls away the sheet that covers it, and…

Silence.

Her family doesn't gasp or shout. So MARNIE gasps for them. Dramatically. She looks for a response. Gets none.

Well?

Silence.

So?

Nothing.

Sew?

That is: "sue"?

MOM

…it's pronounced "so."

MARNIE

Aren't you shocked? Or alarmed?! Ahhhhhh! Ahh.

ALAN

What…

MARNIE

Yes?

ALAN

…oh never mind.

DAD

I think what your brother wanted to ask is—

MOM

What is it?

MARNIE

…what is it?

DAD

Yeah.

MARNIE

Haven't you ever seen a spaceship before?

Silence. They look at her. They look at it. They look at her.

ALAN

I'm going back to sleep. Or not sleep.

MOM

Me too.

MARNIE

But aren't you… upset?

MOM

Upset? I'm relieved this is just playing pretend. For a moment there you really had me worried.

MARNIE

But… but…

ALAN

Send me a postcard from the moon, okay?

MARNIE

You're… you're laughing…?

MOM

We're not laughing—

ALAN

We're laughing a little. It's cute.

MARNIE

Cute?

MOM

Cute when it's not in a pile that anybody can trip over. We'll keep it over in the corner, okay, Marnie?

MARNIE

But I… I… CUTE!?

MOM

We'll talk about this when I'm more awake.

MARNIE

And you!

ALAN

Me?

MARNIE

You! I didn't laugh at you, when you told me about your—

ALAN

Shh.

MARNIE

Your—

ALAN

Shh. Okay. Sure.

MOM

Your what?

ALAN

Yawn. I'm tired. Me no speakie English. Bye bye.

He leaves.

MOM

(to MARNIE)
You and I. Conversation about this. Later.

She goes too.

MARNIE looks very small, bewildered, defeated. Pause.

DAD

You want to build a spaceship?

MARNIE

Never mind. I'm just… playing pretend.

DAD

But you really want to build a spaceship?

MARNIE

Forget it. I'm just being cute.

DAD

Because if you were really trying to build a spaceship… maybe I could help. If you tell me why you want to build one.

MARNIE

…that's simple. To be independent. To be alone. To be in outer space, where you're happy because you're all on your own, not counting the Martians, and you're not surrounded by grown-ups who…

DAD

You don't like it here?

MARNIE

No, I do, I do, I think I do, sometimes, but…

DAD

But you want to know what it's like to be alone.

MARNIE

Yeah.

DAD

I understand.

MARNIE

You do?

DAD

Let's build ourselves a spaceship.

5

The next day: Saturday.

DAD and MARNIE are in the basement. DAD's hard at work on the spaceship, his tool kit beside him. MARNIE watches in gratitude and awe.

MARNIE

A strange change in the life of Marnie McPhee, who's me! And if this were a movie, like Spider-Man 3, now would be the scene where you'd see a "montage" of me and Dad hammering, bending metal into shape with a flamethrower, giving high-fives—high-five, Dad!—

DAD runs over, gives MARNIE a high-five.

—and doing all sorts of other spaceship-building activities, all to the sound of Celine Dion (who's Canadian, like me!) singing "My Heart Will Go On," because that song is so special, especially if you've got heart problems, because then it's like, "I dunno, will it?"

But unfortunately you people are crazy (or maybe spies) and have come to watch Yours Truthfully talk in her basement, and so all you'll get are the things that are in my head, which is cooler than Celine Dion, actually, but most people don't know, because I'm not famous, this week.

So I'm watching Dad. And he's a-hammerin' and a-sawin'—

We see him a-hammerin' and a-sawin'.

—and a-hummin' his a-song, but not nicely, because he's not Celine Dion or my mom, who has pipes that sing—and I'm watching him and I'm handing him screws, et cetera—

She hands him screws, et cetera.

—and all of a sudden, or maybe it's slowly, maybe it's a slow kind of a gathering kind of a feeling, I don't want to go into space anymore. And I can't remember why I wanted to go in the first place. I mean, I can remember the words that I said to myself—"weird," "special," "normal"—but they're empty. They're like those seashells you hold to your ear hoping to hear the ocean: sometimes after a while all you hear is your hoping. And your brain spinning around all alone in your head.

So I'm watching Dad, and I want to say stop, I want to say it's okay, I don't have to leave anymore, I've done measurements with my measuring tape actually and the house is big enough to hold your dreams and mine and not be cramped, but something stops me, and I think it's the shining in his eye, he's a-hammering and a-building and he seems so excited, so happy… and I don't want that to end, so I say looks good, Dad, keep going, Dad, and all the time I'm thinking I don't want to go, I don't want to go, but I don't say anything, because of the shining, which is scary but also exciting, and maybe genetic, which means we share it because we're related, and Mom and Alan come down to watch and they help too, we're all working together, it's like magic, like maybe it's the air in this house, maybe there's something in the air like glue, and I think: why haven't I noticed this before?—and we're building, we're building together, for days and days, and it's amazing and it's exciting and then—

A sudden flash of whirling lights and machine rumble. Steam covers the basement floor. The eyes of the McPhees are wide with wonder.

It's finished.

Silence. MARNIE is in awe. And unsure.

Dad?

DAD

Marnie.

MARNIE

I'm going to miss you guys.

DAD

We'll miss you too.

MARNIE

I don't know if I want to go anymore.

DAD

Why not?

MARNIE

I can't really remember why I…

DAD

It's up to you.

MARNIE

Don't you care if I leave you forever?

DAD

Of course.

MARNIE

So why don't you stop me?

DAD

Because you have to do what you think is best.

MARNIE

What do you think?

DAD

I think it's your choice.

MARNIE

Yeah, but like, if it was you, what would you do?

DAD

If it were me?

MARNIE

Yeah. And you were me.

DAD

…I'd want to know what the vastness of space is like.

A long moment.

MARNIE

Don't move stuff around in my room. I'll be back someday.

She climbs into the spaceship.

The basement lights snap out. We can see only MARNIE's face, dimly, by the light of the spaceship control console glowing in front of her.

Engines ready.

The sound of engines firing up.

Thrusters thrusting.

Thrusters thrusting.

Confibulationators confibulationating.

Et cetera.

Check check check.

A full hum and rush of machine activity.

Upwards.

She closes her eyes.

Upwards.

She takes a deep breath.

Upwards.

The spaceship takes off.

We see, with MARNIE, hundreds of stars shining above us. Wonder steals over her face. She checks her systems, her coordinates: check, check, check. She turns to us.

I did it!

I'm here!

Just a little while till I reach Mars.

Look at meeeeee!

I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

And listen. Listen to that.

We listen. And hear nothing.

The deep, deep silence of space. No sad or embarrassing family voices. Nice.

Silence.

Hmmm. Well, I guess there's nothing to do but wait till I get to Mars. I'll be happy on Mars. Once I get there.

Silence.

It's a little cold out here.

Silence.

Is that Mars?! There! There!

Oh. No. Just a UFO. Never mind.

Silence.

Not much to do here.

Silence.

One sheep two sheep. Three sheep. Four sheep. Baah. Baaah.

Silence.

Hello? Helloooooooooooo. Helloooooo. Hello?!

Silence.

Is there nobody to talk to? Radio? Radio one two three? Marnie to base, Marnie to base, hello?

Silence.

I want to go home.

Silence.

Can I go home now?

Silence.

Please. Hello? Please. I want to go home now. Can I go home now? I'm cold and I want to go home.

Silence. She's trying not to cry.

Hello?

Silence.

Hello?

Silence.

IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?

And suddenly a voice from Earth, conspicuously like her father's voice:

DAD

Earth to McPhee Voyager One, we have contact, over.

MARNIE

Earth! Earth, it's me!

DAD

McPhee Voyager One, it's who? Over.

MARNIE

Earth, it's me, Marnie McPhee, and I'd like to come home. Over!

DAD

McPhee Voyager One, I don't know how possible that'll be, you're in outer space, that's a bit farther than Mississauga, over.

MARNIE

Earth, I don't care, I want to come home, even if it's farther than Mississauga, over!

DAD

McPhee Voyager One, why do you want to come home? You just set out, over.

MARNIE

It's too cold here, Earth! And there's nobody around! And there's nothing to do! And I don't know anybody here! Over.

DAD

McPhee Voyager One, hang on a sec, I'm going to confer with Mission Command, over.
(muffled)
Mission Command, what do you think?

ALAN

Under.

DAD

Huh?

ALAN

Just signing off, under.

DAD

Mission Control, be serious.

MOM

It's Mission Command, Chief.

DAD

Mission Command, hold it together!

ALAN

We'll try harder, under.

DAD

Mission Command! What do you think? Should we bring McPhee Voyager One home?

MOM

Does she want to come over home?

DAD

Huh?

MOM

…oh, I get it! Does she want to come home, over!

DAD

I don't know, let's ask her. McPhee Voyager One, do you want to come home? Over.

MARNIE

Earth, yes, obviously! Over!

DAD

Your family misses you, McPhee Voyager One.

MARNIE

Tell them I'll stay at home now forever! And by forever I mean until I'm sixteen.

DAD

Over!

MARNIE

Huh?

DAD

Over sixteen! Until you're twenty.

MARNIE

Twenty!

DAD

We'll talk about it.

MARNIE

Dad!

DAD

Who's Dad? This is Mission Command, over.

MARNIE

I want to come home!

And suddenly the stars snap out. The basement lights rise a bit. And we can see DAD, MOM, and ALAN standing around a home planetarium. MARNIE sees them too. But if she closes her eyes, which she does, even now she can almost pretend she's in outer space.

Because her eyes are closed, she doesn't see DAD, MOM, and ALAN turn out the basement lights again and climb into the spaceship beside her. There are no stars. The glow of the spaceship control console lights their faces.

MARNIE opens her eyes.

…oh. Hi.

MOM

Hi.

DAD

Hi.

ALAN

Hi.

MARNIE

Where are we?

Suddenly starlight floods over them. The colours of passing planets. Vivid. Vibrant. Much more than what a home planetarium could create. The brilliance of the cosmos.

We can't still be in the basement. Is this the basement?

ALAN

Does it matter?

Silence.

MARNIE

It's dark out there.

Silence.

MOM

Listen. If we listen real close we can hear each other breathing.

Lights fade on MARNIE's look of wonder, her family all around her. Together in the vastness of space.