2018

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Character List: 

Aida – British Pakistani. 33 years old.

British accent with subtle northern tones.

 

Ebba – Swedish. 28

Standard Swedish accent.

 

Julia – Swedish. 35

Swedish accent with hints of an American influence.

 

​/ indicates that the next character speaks immediately after.

[ ] indicates unspoken.

 

 

Aida passionately photographs Karin Ek's artwork at Morby Centrum Station while listening to Meesha Shafi's 'Mein' in her headphones. Passers-by notice her, but she remains focused. Julia is intrigued by Aida and walks behind her as they head to the platform. Aida eventually takes a seat, trying to tune out foreign voices that make her feel paranoid.

 

AIDA checks the platform information display and lets out a sigh. Thirteen minutes till the next metro.

      

AIDA sits silently amid the lively station atmosphere, JULIA considers approaching her, captivated by Aida's presence in the bustling space.

 

EBBA, wearing a 'Smiths' t-shirt, enters, appearing discontent. JULIA observes their interaction closely.

 

 

EBBA:        You were supposed to wait outside.

 

AIDA:        What’s with the attitude?

 

EBBA:        Attitude?

 

AIDA:         I’m not the one who’s late.

 

EBBA:        I’m not late.

 

AIDA:        You are late.

 

EBBA:        (Shrugs).

 

AIDA:        Come on, it’s like every breath you take is an opportunity to delay time further.

 

EBBA:        No.

 

AIDA:        I am on holiday, and all I seem to do is wait around for you.

 

EBBA:        I’m sorry.

 

AIDA:        Thank you.

 

EBBA:        But, I don’t delay time.

 

AIDA:        What?

 

EBBA:        I wasn’t delaying time.

 

EBBA sits next to her.

 

EBBA:        Did you take any photographs?

 

AIDA:        Yeah.

 

EBBA:        What do you think?

 

AIDA:        Tube art.

 

EBBA:        Profound.

 

AIDA:        When is the tube coming?

 

EBBA:        You’re so English.

 

AIDA:        British.

 

EBBA:        Always complaining.

 

AIDA:        You love it.

 

EBBA:        Seems so.

 

AIDA:        Well, some would say you’re more of a Londoner.

 

EBBA:        …

 

AIDA:        Your Mam certainly thinks so.

 

EBBA:        She thinks a lot of things.

 

AIDA:        Yes, she does.

 

EBBA observes a tense shift in Aida’s body movement.

 

EBBA:        (Reassuringly) She’s old, that’s all.

 

AIDA:        They’re all old.

 

EBBA:        Are you okay?

 

AIDA:        Did she believe that we’re not together?

 

EBBA:        Yes.

 

AIDA:        I knew that’s why she kept you behind.

 

                I was sat here on my own, (looking around at various eyes watching her) minding my own business and I thought to myself, I thought to myself,                  what have I done this time?

 

EBBA:        You haven’t done anything.

 

AIDA:        Of-course I haven’t.

​

EBBA:        I don’t want you to fixate on my mother.

 

AIDA:        What? Not fixate on a/ [racist].

 

EBBA:        Aida.

 

AIDA:        What?

 

EBBA:        She’s not. Their way of thinking is different, she’s actually quite fond of you/

 

AIDA:        But only if we’re not fucking?

 

EBBA screws her face with disdain.

 

EBBA:        We’re not.

 

AIDA:        And she was pleased when you convinced her?

 

EBBA:        Convinced her?

 

AIDA:        Isn’t that why I was told to leave and wait here?

 

EBBA:        She didn’t need convincing but it’s not true. And I don’t like that language.

 

AIDA:        Language?

 

EBBA:        We’re in public.

 

AIDA:        (Lightening the mood). You’re so uppity.

 

EBBA:        I don't appreciate unnecessary swearing. If someone chooses to use such language, it should have a purpose. If one chooses to use such                          language, it should carry enough weight to send shivers through a crowd.

 

AIDA:        …

 

EBBA:        …

 

AIDA:        You know you guys are supposed to be way ahead of us. Gender equality ticked, body hair your prerogative, but you, can’t even handle                          fucking.

 

EBBA:        (Aware that people can hear them).

 

AIDA:        Okay, now I’m sorry. I’ll reign it in.

 

EBBA:        Thank you.

 

AIDA smiles at EBBA and EBBA affectionately squeezes AIDA's thigh, AIDA sporting a cheeky attitude, playfully feigns normalcy, masking any discomfort or surprise.

 

AIDA:        So, Skarsgård’s and Pokémons.

 

EBBA:        Skarsgård’s and Pokémons?

 

AIDA:        I heard they/

 

EBBA:        Pop up everywhere?

 

AIDA:        I do hope so.

 

EBBA:        Yes, I bet you do.

 

AIDA:        I’ll throw something at them.

 

EBBA:        You would.

 

AIDA:        Of-course I would. I’d throw a ball at each one for my own Skarsgård collection.

 

EBBA:        You won’t catch them on the Metro.

 

AIDA:        Shame.  

 

AIDA senses a presence, she lifts her gaze, and her eyes lock onto JULIA. A warm smile spreads across JULIA's face, and as AIDA's consistent sense of standing out intensifies, it's as if the spotlight upon her has suddenly grown even hotter.

 

AIDA:        Don’t look right now.

 

EBBA instantly looks up at JULIA.

 

                 I said don’t look.

 

EBBA:        …

 

AIDA:        She’s staring.

 

EBBA:        …

 

AIDA:        And she’s fit.

 

EBBA:        Shh.

 

AIDA:        What?

 

EBBA:        She can hear you.

 

AIDA:        So?

 

EBBA tries to check her out without it being obvious but fails.

 

AIDA:        Do you think she’s fit?

 

EBBA:        She’s looking at you.

 

AIDA:        (Displeased) How do you know?

 

EBBA:        She is.

 

AIDA:        Come on Ebs.

 

EBBA:        What?

 

AIDA:        (Loudly) Ebba is a girl, hates anyone called Earl. Ebba is a girl who loves all the girls.

 

EBBA:        (Cringing) Oh no.

 

AIDA:        (Laughs).

 

JULIA walks over to join them. EBBA watches JULIA walk over and is mortified.

 

JULIA:         Hi.

 

AIDA:         Hello, I’m Aida.

 

JULIA:         Julia.

 

AIDA:         This is Ebba.

 

EBBA:         (Awkwardly smiles).

 

AIDA:          You heard my song?

 

EBBA:         The whole station heard your song.

 

JULIA:         Who does not like all the girls?

 

AIDA:          (Shrugs).

 

JULIA:         What did you think of Karin Ek?

 

AIDA:         (Distracted by two women looking in her direction)…

 

JULIA and EBBA wait for AIDA to say something.

 

AIDA:         Sorry?

 

JULIA:         Karin Ek.

 

AIDA:         The tube art?

 

JULIA:         Tube art.

 

EBBA:         She’s being obnoxious, Aida’s an artist too.

 

AIDA:         Okay.

 

EBBA:         Sorry, not obnoxious.

 

AIDA:         I’m not exactly one who would be labelled as articulate.

 

EBBA:         (Falls over her words) No you are, that’s my point… don’t do that, I didn’t mean…

 

AIDA:         I may not be articulate but the use of optical illusion I find that a resonating experience. Perceptions are changed at every different corner of                     this metro. Today, however, I contemplate the perceptions of each person on this platform not observing the artwork.

​

                 I try not to fixate on this myriad of perceptions. Isn’t this enough to drive anyone mad? But I do wonder within the grace of Karin Ek’s                                 presence, would I find something familiar to discuss or would I engage in small talk and find that next glass of wine?

 

JULIA:         That’s something to think about.

 

EBBA:         And there she is.

 

JULIA:         It’s nice to meet you.

 

EBBA:         You too.

 

AIDA:          (Annoyed at JULIA) But back to the tube art, I’d say same shit, different artist.

 

JULIA:         But you’re an artist.

 

AIDA:         I too make some shit.

 

JULIA:         (Amused) London?

 

AIDA:         Yes. But originally the north.

 

JULIA:         I like the north. I lived in Nottingham.

 

AIDA:         This one lived in Sheffield.

 

JULIA:        Love Sheffield.

 

AIDA:         Swedes and indie culture.

 

EBBA:         (Sarcastic) No, Swedes and Alex Turner.

 

AIDA:         (Looks at EBBA and turns away).

 

EBBA:         Hey.

 

AIDA:         Hmm?

 

EBBA:         (Realises something is up).

 

AIDA:          Are you American?

 

JULIA:          No.

 

AIDA:          Oh. I thought, never mind… but… what’s with the American twang?

 

EBBA:          She doesn’t have an American twang.

 

AIDA:          (Is feeling insecure).

 

JULIA:          I guess you could say that.

 

AIDA:         One of these Posh International Schools?

 

EBBA purses her lips.

 

JULIA:         Exactly that.

 

EBBA:         Where is it that you live?

 

JULIA:         Hagerstensasen.

 

AIDA:         Ah, I live in Haggerston.

 

EBBA:         (Disdain) East London.

 

AIDA:          Erm you love East London.

 

EBBA:          That’s the point.

 

EBBA and JULIA hear what others on the platform are saying. They look embarrassed.

 

AIDA:          I’m not quite sure I understand. (Pauses – uncomfortable with the silence). But hey ho, why choose to live anywhere else. It's like a whole                            country in itself. Over the years, history has proven that no matter who you are, there's always a part of this city, of this country, where you                        can truly call home.

 

EBBA and JULIA are not listening.

 

                  Okay, what’s going on?

 

EBBA and JULIA purse their lips. AIDA turns to see some women who seem to be annoyed. She turns back to look at EBBA and JULIA.

 

                  What are they saying?

 

EBBA:          It doesn’t matter.

 

AIDA:          I want to know.

 

EBBA:          It doesn’t matter.

 

AIDA looks at JULIA.

 

JULIA:         … I'm heading to pick up my daughter. She needs to be at her Dad's before six. After that, I'm meeting some friends at Bitter Pills. Would you                   both like to join us?

 

AIDA:          You have a daughter?

 

JULIA:          Yes, I have a daughter, is that okay?

 

AIDA:          Yeahh…

 

JULIA:          Why does it seem that it’s the opposite?

 

AIDA:          Nah, it’s fine.

 

JULIA:          You don’t know many Mammas, do you?

 

AIDA:          Not ones that are as young as you…

                  Shit, I didn’t mean it like that.

 

EBBA appears exasperated.

 

                  I really didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I have this habit where I seem to place my foot right into my mouth.

 

JULIA:         It’s okay.

 

AIDA:         Nah but I can be super awkward at times. I swear sometimes my brain can’t catch up with what spills out of my mouth.

 

JULIA:         (Touches AIDA’s arm) It’s okay.

 

EBBA does not like that JULIA has affectionately touched AIDA. EBBA steps away from JULIA and AIDA. She faces the audience.

 

EBBA:     I don't understand her. She's my friend, and I genuinely like her. I really do. But she's loud, and she's self-aware, and yet, sometimes, she buries                 that awareness to be... what, obnoxious?

 

             We met through friends, within the safety of the lesbian network, even though she's not really a lesbian. It's not about being bi-phobic; I like her,                 but I don't always understand her. I appreciate who she is and how unapologetic she can be, something I envy. She walks through the streets of                 Stockholm with a loud guffaw and an air of freedom. She doesn't care. I admire that.

 

             I like my friend, my loud, obnoxious friend. But I don't fully understand her. And now, here she is, in front of one of the most beautiful women I've               ever met, and my friend, who's about a 7 if you think about it, yet Julia, clearly a 9, seems smitten.

 

             So, yes, I like my friend, my loud, obnoxious friend. But I'm still trying to ‘fucking’ understand her.

 

The sound of disdain pierces into the end of EBBA’s monologue. She turns to see AIDA look at the women from before. She watches AIDA walk over to them.

 

EBBA:     Don’t.

 

AIDA:     (Stops) Isn’t this the problem?

 

EBBA:     What?

 

AIDA:     I don’t think you’ll ever understand.

 

EBBA is confused. AIDA confronts the group of strangers.

        

AIDA:     Hi, I'm Aida. And you are...

 

              Those are great names; I love them.

 

 Lingering awkwardness for the women being confronted.

 

              This metro is taking ages, isn't it? Does it always do this, or is it just me being impatient?

 

              Would you like to join us?

 

Aida is faced with silence.

 

              I know I can be loud, loud enough for some nations. But hey, it's these intricacies that make us interesting, right? Or do you prefer the familiar?

 

              I was told Swedes were different. Or is that distinctiveness reserved for the mirroring hegemony?

 

              I think I've made my point. My apologies for my loudmouth.

 

AIDA walks away.

 

JULIA:    That was really something.

 

AIDA:    Who else can one rely on?

 

JULIA:    I’ve not seen anything like what you did.

 

AIDA:    Wish I could say the same.

 

JULIA:    I’m sorry.

 

EBBA:    The metro is here.

 

They all approach the platform's edge. As they stand there, waiting for the metro to arrive at their spot, EBBA gently wraps her arms around AIDA. AIDA accepts the gesture without returning it.

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