Deep Sixing Mom…
(Into the Pacific.)
GAVARRE BENJAMIN
CHARACTERS:
ELIAS (39): Professor of Classics at a prestigious L.A. university. Stares down his impending 40th birthday with the anxiety of a tenure review defense.
MATT (32): Commercial Director for a tech-adjacent firm. Handsome, a bit impulsive, rides a Ducati; has a decided preference for older men.
DOÑA RINA (25): Elias’s late mother. Appears as a glamorous, youthful, sharp-tongued version of herself from the mid-1950s. Only visible to Elias and Matt.
IN VIDEO/VOICE:
ROBERTA: Matt’s "new age" older sister. Venice local.
SCENE 1: Snoring and Awakenings
SETTING:
A sleek, minimal boutique hotel room overlooking the boardwalk in Venice Beach, California. Sticky, summer heat, tamed slightly by an aging window AC unit. An open suitcase reveals a motorcycle helmet. Presiding over the room from a mid-century modern credenza beneath the TV is a giant, black-and-white portrait of an elderly, stern woman (DOÑA RINA). Sunlight blazes through the window.
(The scene opens with MATT standing by the bed, wrapped tight in a towel, glaring down at his husband, having clearly been shoved out. ELIAS is sound asleep, cocooned in the entire duvet like a captured pirate treasure. MATT hurls a sandal at him.)
MATT: Babe! Wake up! This is our "second honeymoon," not an audition for Sleeping Beauty. Come on, you’re acting like an old man.
ELÍAS: (Waking up, dignity wounded) Old men are your specialty, sweetheart. I am a finely-tuned classic daily driver. And since you were dead to the world by 9:00 PM PST, don’t you dare wake me up acting like an anxious Chihuahua.
MATT: (Pacing) I didn’t sleep that well, you know… There was this giant, drooly bulldog on top of me. Oh, and it was snoring like a chainsaw with asthma.
ELÍAS: (Looks up at the huge portrait of his mother) You see, Mom? You always pushed me to marry a doctor or an investment banker. But no, I married the guy with the Ducati.
MATT: Commercial Director. Though I know that’s too many syllables for a Classics major.
ELÍAS: And a motorized suicide enthusiast. Why did you even bring your helmet?
MATT: They have to rent scooters here, right? Or at least electric bikes?
ELÍAS: I’m sure they do. But good luck finding someone to join you… because this "senior citizen" is spending the entire day in a cabana, getting an expensive tan.
MATT: Boring!
ELÍAS: Savage!
SCENE 2: THE INTERLOPER
(Suddenly, DOÑA RINA—a glamorous, beautiful woman of 25 from the mid-1950s, wearing an impeccably tailored high-fashion bridal ensemble with a chic hat and veil—emerges with practiced elegance from behind the curtains. She sits with perfect poise in a modern chair.)
DOÑA RINA: I always insisted you cultivate your friendship with Arthur, the investment banker. The one who had a driver. He was a director… of something that mattered.
MATT: (Directed at Doña Rina) And the Lady of the Manor begins. I’d show you my W-2, Mrs. Rina, but maybe your son should show you his… "Adjunct Faculty." Oh, the tragedy. So much intellectual eminence, so little disposable income.
ELÍAS: (Offended) Regardless of your corporate metrics, I teach at one of the top universities on the West Coast, and you know it.
MATT: Non-tenure track. I still cover three-quarters of the mortgage on the Silver Lake house.
DOÑA RINA: (Ignoring Matt completely) Ah, and now your "roommate" is counting pennies. The non-earner. You should have at least met Mr. Sterling. He was a little older, yes, but he owned an entire block of buildings in Beverly Hills…
ELÍAS: Yes, you introduced me, Mom. Back when… before you passed…
MATT: To Heaven?
ELÍAS: Wherever you are now…
MATT: Is it warm down there? Hell, I mean.
DOÑA RINA: My, the witty roommate has quite the mouth today.
ELÍAS: You were the one who always insisted he was my roommate.
DOÑA RINA: That’s what you said… that Mathias was just "helping with the rent," and that he slept… I don’t know where, because you only had that one wretched single bedroom in that pathetic 430-square-foot studio… with one bathroom. Dear God, only one bathroom.
MATT: (Sarcastic) On the kitchen futon, Doña Rina. I slept on the kitchen futon. Where else?
DOÑA RINA: (Deadpan) Simple. On the floor. It would have saved your back.
MATT: Right… Wow, if that futon could talk!
DOÑA RINA: You are incorrigible, young man. No hope for you.
MATT: (Rripping with irony) Speaking of being incorrigible… I remember somebody’s dear and attractive husband… said he always knew about your "issue," Elias…
ELÍAS: Don’t call me Elias when you’re being passive-aggressive. We’re not fighting. And don’t speak about my father that way.
DOÑA RINA: I always knew about your issue too, son… Remember when you started taping those black-and-white posters of naked men in your room? "Ancient Greek sculpture," you claimed. "Classical art." Just muscle-bound boys. You never taped up a single naked woman.
ELÍAS: I never had "an issue." The issue was you and Dad. You guys were the ones with a serious acceptance deficit. Oh, but don’t let me pass up a "good catch," as you put it, because you probably would have paid an anachronistic dowry if it meant getting an architect or a doctor…
MATT: Anachronistic dowry… okay, Professor Word-of-the-Day.
DOÑA RINA: (Indignant) Well, of course! How could I not? I would have loved to see you married to a man who could actually maintain you in the style you deserved, not with… This.
MATT: Oh, Doña Rina, I just remembered why we didn’t invite you to our wedding… You would have spent the entire reception introducing Elias to successful, rich, blonde grandpas! It's too bad you couldn't be there… It was a lovely civil ceremony. No bad vibes, no classism, no homophobia. Just healthy, young, non-toxic people, you know?
ELÍAS: Okay, Matt, enough. You’re crossing the line.
DOÑA RINA: (With a melancholy pout) As for your supposed "WEDDING"… Well… I found out by chance. All that broadcasting of every single travesty on the Facebook… Do you two realize the entire world sees your little antics? The entire world!
ELÍAS: (Exasperated) No, Mom… it wasn't a "supposed" wedding. It was a legal civil union. I am a legally married man. And at nearly forty, I think I'm beyond having "antics." And need I remind you, Mom, that I was born of an "antic"? Or did you and Dad conceive me in a petri dish?
DOÑA RINA: You are disrespecting me, Elias.
MATT: (Mocking her) "You are disrespecting me! Elias!"
DOÑA RINA: Tell him! Tell him to be silent! Show him who wears the pants.
MATT: Oh, lady, please. Don’t make me laugh.
ELÍAS: Yes, Mom, you really need to show some respect… or else…
SCENE 3: The Turkish Bazaar
(Matt’s phone blares: a video call from ROBERTA. She is visible in her Venice condo, surrounded by a turban of incense smoke.)
ROBERTA: Namasté, sinners! Sultán is sending you some sapphire-blue healing light! Elias, don’t kill me, but Sultánito just swallowed the amethyst crystal. The special one on the Turkish bazaar shelf.
ELÍAS: (Yelling at the phone) Roberta, you flaky hippie! I swear, I hope this is one of your jokes!
MATT: It’s a joke, it’s a joke. Look, there’s Sultánito, fast asleep on his back on the futon.
ROBERTA: Haha… you have zero chill, Grandpa Elias. How old are you going to be? 45?
ELÍAS: (Ignoring the jab) And how is Chilaquil doing?
ROBERTA: Chilaquil is fat, El. Just fat. He won’t move from your chair because he’s too busy reading your Latin and Greek etymology books. He’s so sedentary, the chair actually has a thick, depressing indentation from him. Ciao, guys! (Cuts call).
ELÍAS: (Looks at his stomach, horrified) Did she call me fat?
MATT: Fat and sedentary. Exactly what I’ve been telling you.
ELÍAS: Excuse me, little boy… I am almost forty! It’s the metabolism! Mom, you got offended, and now you’re just going to sit there silently? I know that tactic.
DOÑA RINA: (Changing the subject) Your sister is a hippie. I never liked her. She was always on my bad side.
MATT: (To Elias) Is that it? That’s your defense strategy? She was right, you know. Elias is a total hippie. He's a closeted hippie!
DOÑA RINA: (Judgmental sniff) That closet door has been off its hinges for a decade, I am well aware… broadcasting your dirty laundry on the Facebook. No standards anymore. Everyone knows about you… two.
ELÍAS: Mom! I still don’t get why you always preferred me, even though you didn’t approve of my life… You treated me better than you ever treated my hippie sister… It seems like you were more her enemy than her mother.
DOÑA RINA: Your sister didn't deserve to be loved. When she ran off with those… hippies at eighteen, she challenged me. She brushed me aside. And that, I have never forgiven.
ELÍAS: You know what, "Mommy"… I am done with everything revolving around how you feel, what you approve of, or what you forgive. For now, I think I'm just going to pack you away in the suitcase…
MATT: Now that is a move I can get behind.
DOÑA RINA: (Rising in shock) You wouldn’t dare, son… Look at me. I am your mother.decision. decisions have consequences… Elias, nooooo!
(During that last line, Elias grabs the large black-and-white portrait of his mother and jams it into the deep bottom of the open suitcase. Simultaneously, the young Doña Rina ghost figure is seen moving slowly backward behind the curtains until she disappears.)
SCENE 3.5
(Three days have passed. Matt and Elias are getting ready to go to the beach. They seem visibly more relaxed and have less desire to fight.)
MATT: You like this swimsuit? Or is it officially too… much?
ELÍAS: Oh, it’s provoking me, if that’s what you mean… If it’s obvious that your provocation is having an effect on me, I’m blaming you.
MATT: (Smiling) It is so beautiful when you shut up. I can actually feel the beach breeze. This surfer spot is seriously the best beach in the world. Look at those waves, they are so high, and those surfers are so…
ELÍAS: (Dryly) Sculptural?
MATT: Hot. They’re hot, Professor. Don’t overthink it.
ELÍAS: (Picks up his towel, pauses) I don’t know, Matt… I still can’t help feeling a little guilty about… packing her away.
MATT: Don’t you dare take her out of that suitcase. You will ruin the incredible progress you’ve made. Better yet, let's just go to the beach right now. A whole world of sculptural surfers on giant waves is waiting for us. Come on, let's go.
ELÍAS: (Looks at the suitcase, then at Matt) Yes, babe… you’re totally right. Let’s go.
SCENE 4: The Boardwalk Parade
(Caminar up the wooden boardwalk towards the sand of Venice Beach. Matt is rocking his tattoos and athlete's body. Elias is wearing his big straw hat, sunglasses, and a beach tote bursting with SPF 100 sunblock.)
MATT: Relax, Elías. Look around. These surfers are twenty years old with zero actual worries. They are looking at you.
ELÍAS: They are not looking at me, Matt. They see me as the "sugar daddy" who buys the craft beers and expensive shots. Or worse, they think you’re paying for me… Thank you, by the way.
MATT: (Slaps his ass) You know that’s what my tech money is for.
ELÍAS: Look at that blonde guy… he was practically memorizing your abs. Want me to go over there and give him my blessing?
MATT: And that’s without even seeing me on the Ducati, unbuttoned shirt, my Easy Rider glasses…
ELÍAS: (Hugs him around the waist) And that’s without seeing you splattered on the asphalt after that taxi hit you and ran.
MATT: (Looking at the Venice shoreline) You know what this wonderful tenth anniversary trip needs to cap it off? A truly extraordinary, once-in-a-lifetime event. Like, an event involving the number three.
ELÍAS: (With a sly grin) The number three? Are you suggesting an "external collaboration" in the bedroom? Because that blonde guy on the surfboard does seem very smiley…
MATT: (Clears his throat, nervous laugh) The one who is way too young for me? Um… no. I was thinking of a third bottle of high-end tequila. But… (he glances at another surfer, then at Matt). But look at that guy who’s staring at us… he is about my age. And nearly as ancient as you. If he knows how to give a back massage… the number three might be negotiable. Just for today, okay?
ELÍAS: (Laughing, relieved) You are my hero, Matías! It is such a relief to have Mrs. Rina safe in the bottom of that suitcase. I wouldn’t want her seeing her almost-forty-year-old son trying to surf and dislocating his hip while surrounded by beautiful, sexy men with perfect bodies and zero judgment.
MATT: (Kisses his cheek) It is so pleasurable to hear you say those words, Professor.
ELÍAS: About beautiful men?
MATT: About how nice it would be to really deep six your mom into the Pacific… (Elias gives him a look) Haha… okay, don’t look at me like that… suitcased, she stays suitcased. Don’t take her out. (Hugs his neck).
ELÍAS: You better run, little boy, because if I catch you…
MATT: Alright, alright, haha… Remember we have a "meeting of the three" planned…
ELÍAS: You’re right, I almost lost my head… Come on! Let’s celebrate our "lunatic lunar of three!"
(They embrace as they walk toward the water's edge. Elias proudly takes off his shirt, embracing his body. Matt gives him a playful push into the first breaking wave. Doña Rina's spectral figure, standing at the hotel window, is visible for a moment. She seems to be waving goodbye with her hand as she slowly dissolves into a golden resplendence.)
MATT: Watch out for the current, old man!
ELÍAS: Shut up and give me your hand! That blonde surfer is still staring at your ass!
(They laugh as they crash into the water. The final image remains open, bathed in the bright, golden California sun of ten years lived together.)
The end
