Elise are seated on opposite ends of a camel-colored couch. Elise is scribbling something in a notebook; Chris is shuffling through papers, reviewing notes for an upcoming meeting. Leah is sitting on an overstuffed chocolate leather chair to their left, with a blanket over her goose-bumped knees (like most interior spaces in Singapore, the air-conditioning is going full blast). Sophie is perched on an office chair with wheels. The therapist is nowhere to be seen.
Sophie swivels around in the office chair, going faster and faster. There is something slightly wild and desperate about her movements, like those of a much younger child misbehaving to gain adult attention. But none of the other Kriegsteins react. Leah, in stark contrast to Sophie, is sitting incredibly still, holding herself tightly, so tightly she is unconsciously pinching her upper arms with her fingernails. The family’s silence is interrupted by the hurried entry of a slightly portly British therapist in a light blue shirt and a mint green sweater vest, who looks badly sunburned.
Therapist : Thank you all for waiting. Apologies on my part for the interruption—a client was confused. Thought it was Wednesday.
(Opens his notebook, composes himself.)
Well, let’s not waste any more time, shall we?
(Pause in which none of the Kriesgsteins speak. Therapist glances around, trying to gauge the mood.)
Let’s continue where we left off before the doorbell rang. Elise, you had just brought up the subject of your pregnancy with Sophie and the family’s move to England three years later. I would like to hear a bit more now from Leah about that time. Leah. What would you call your…most salient memories of England? You would have been five at that time, correct?
Leah (guarded): Yes, that’s right. You mean, what can I remember?
Therapist : Precisely.
Leah (considers the question for a beat): Not much. The raspberry bush out back. The plum tree. Lavender everywhere, leaning over sidewalks. Liverwurst. Ribena. Picnics with taramasolata. Pizza Express.
Elise : And what about your friends? Edith Norrell? Nigel Slater?
Leah : Nigel Slater? Mom, that’s the famous cook. I obviously wasn’t friends with him.
Elise : Nigel Saunders. That’s who I meant.
Leah : No, I don’t remember them. I remember trees in bloom in the park, and learning to read.
Therapist : Learning to read?
Leah : I kept mispronouncing “island” as “iz-land.” And fish and chips. And…the feeling.
Therapist : Of?
Leah : Of living in England.
Therapist : And what are your memories of Sophie from that time? How do you think she liked it there?
Sophie (jumping in): I can’t remember England at all.
The therapist does not react to Sophie’s response but continues waiting on Leah, intent on her answer. Oddly, his manner is not that of a therapist ignoring a client who has spoken out of turn (as Sophie just has), but rather that of someone who has not heard the client at all. It becomes apparent that Sophie’s presence is invisible to everyone else in the room, and her voice is equally undetectable.
Leah : My memories of Sophie? (Blanches.) I don’t know how she liked it there.
Sophie : I was just a baby, really.
Leah (voice overlapping): She was just a baby, really.
At the coincidence of their having said the same thing at the same time, Sophie looks at Leah in joyful astonishment and laughs out loud.
Sophie (shouting): Jinx! Personal jinx! One, two, three, four, five!
At Leah’s continued silence, Sophie rises from her chair, suddenly looking much older, graver, and goes to her sister, puts her arms around her neck, leaning her cheek against Leah’s. It is a consoling, sisterly gesture, yet one that Sophie never would have performed when she was alive: it is the gesture from one adult sister to another. At Sophie’s touch, tears begin flowing silently from Leah’s eyes.
Therapist : What is it?
Leah shrugs a grumpy teenager shrug, furious that her emotions
Sophie swivels around in the office chair, going faster and faster. There is something slightly wild and desperate about her movements, like those of a much younger child misbehaving to gain adult attention. But none of the other Kriegsteins react. Leah, in stark contrast to Sophie, is sitting incredibly still, holding herself tightly, so tightly she is unconsciously pinching her upper arms with her fingernails. The family’s silence is interrupted by the hurried entry of a slightly portly British therapist in a light blue shirt and a mint green sweater vest, who looks badly sunburned.
Therapist : Thank you all for waiting. Apologies on my part for the interruption—a client was confused. Thought it was Wednesday.
(Opens his notebook, composes himself.)
Well, let’s not waste any more time, shall we?
(Pause in which none of the Kriesgsteins speak. Therapist glances around, trying to gauge the mood.)
Let’s continue where we left off before the doorbell rang. Elise, you had just brought up the subject of your pregnancy with Sophie and the family’s move to England three years later. I would like to hear a bit more now from Leah about that time. Leah. What would you call your…most salient memories of England? You would have been five at that time, correct?
Leah (guarded): Yes, that’s right. You mean, what can I remember?
Therapist : Precisely.
Leah (considers the question for a beat): Not much. The raspberry bush out back. The plum tree. Lavender everywhere, leaning over sidewalks. Liverwurst. Ribena. Picnics with taramasolata. Pizza Express.
Elise : And what about your friends? Edith Norrell? Nigel Slater?
Leah : Nigel Slater? Mom, that’s the famous cook. I obviously wasn’t friends with him.
Elise : Nigel Saunders. That’s who I meant.
Leah : No, I don’t remember them. I remember trees in bloom in the park, and learning to read.
Therapist : Learning to read?
Leah : I kept mispronouncing “island” as “iz-land.” And fish and chips. And…the feeling.
Therapist : Of?
Leah : Of living in England.
Therapist : And what are your memories of Sophie from that time? How do you think she liked it there?
Sophie (jumping in): I can’t remember England at all.
The therapist does not react to Sophie’s response but continues waiting on Leah, intent on her answer. Oddly, his manner is not that of a therapist ignoring a client who has spoken out of turn (as Sophie just has), but rather that of someone who has not heard the client at all. It becomes apparent that Sophie’s presence is invisible to everyone else in the room, and her voice is equally undetectable.
Leah : My memories of Sophie? (Blanches.) I don’t know how she liked it there.
Sophie : I was just a baby, really.
Leah (voice overlapping): She was just a baby, really.
At the coincidence of their having said the same thing at the same time, Sophie looks at Leah in joyful astonishment and laughs out loud.
Sophie (shouting): Jinx! Personal jinx! One, two, three, four, five!
At Leah’s continued silence, Sophie rises from her chair, suddenly looking much older, graver, and goes to her sister, puts her arms around her neck, leaning her cheek against Leah’s. It is a consoling, sisterly gesture, yet one that Sophie never would have performed when she was alive: it is the gesture from one adult sister to another. At Sophie’s touch, tears begin flowing silently from Leah’s eyes.
Therapist : What is it?
Leah shrugs a grumpy teenager shrug, furious that her emotions
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