Blossom: Sorry to freak you out, man, but this trip’s like already in progress. Hold my hand ‘cause we’re outa here, far outa here. (She takes his hand and immediately they are whisked away to another time. The sounds of children’s laughter fills the air. In glancing around, Scrounge realizes they are standing at the end of a dock watching a group of boys dismantle their Lasers.)


Boy 1: That was a great race, and look who’s still coming back – dead last. (Scrounge’s attention is directed to a youthful version of himself rocking his laser towards the dock.)


Boy 2: Serves him right, the cheater. He barged me at the start then wouldn’t admit it.


Boy 3: Yeh, and he wouldn’t give me room at the mark. He’ll try just about anything to get ahead. I say let’s protest him right out of our club. (There are shouts of approval and the boys set off towards the clubhouse. Young Scrounge reaches the dock just as they are leaving. He watches their departure with hurt and disappointment evident in his eyes. The older Scrounge reacts in a similar fashion.)


Blossom: That was heavy man. (glancing at Scrounge) Hey, are you OK? I guess we’d better exit this scene. (The dock changes to the cockpit of a sailboat spinnakering downwind. Scrounge, now fifteen, is behind the wheel. An older man sits trimming the main. Old Scrounge grinning with delight.)


Old Scrounge: Why it’s Mr. Willit, the first skipper to invite me on his yacht!


Willit: Eli, you’ve been driving for four hours. Why don’t you go below and eat dinner with the rest of your watch. (Young Scrounge looks longingly below and hesitates, then turns resolutely to his skipper.)


Young Scrounge: No sir, I’ll steer for a bit longer. I’m not hungry anyway.


Blossom: Like crazy, man. If you don’t have friends, like who can you borrow things from. (As she finishes speaking Scrounge realizes they are no longer on a boat but in an apartment that looks agonizingly familiar. Sitting uncomfortably in a bean bag chair another Scrounge, now in his mid-twenties, stares sadly at the crying girl across from him.)


Girl: It’s no use, Eli. I can’t continue seeing you. You’ve changed too much. Instead of peace rallies you head corporations. The time you used to dream with me you now use to plan regattas with your sailing cronies. There’s life beyond the next race, you know. While you’ve joined your adversaries, I’ve joined the Peace Corp. I leave for Africa next week. (desperate pleading in her voice) Come with me… just for a year.


Old and Young Scrounge (simultaneously): I can’t leave my life here. And my friends, my friends...


SCENE IV Scrounge rises suddenly from his own bed, then falls back, sobbing into his pillow. Another apparition appears, a man in his early thirties dressed in a business suit.


Spirit: Come come, sir, we have no time for these emotional outbursts. I am the spirit of Christmas present. (Taking a tape cartridge from his inside coat pocket he slides it into Scrounge’s VCR machine. On the screen appears a beautiful wooden sloop, its teak decks gleaming; it’s lines artistically coiled. But the boat’s mast and boom are missing as well as some winches and tracks. Bob and his wife Mary appear from below, deep in conversation.)


Mary: How can you allow that mean old tightwad to boss you around. Bob? The children will be so disappointed.


Bob: I promised them a great view of the Christmas ships and I will keep my promise, but not tonight. I need to phone the crew, and help the sailmaker, and… maybe you could make some sandwiches? (He looks imploringly at his wife)


Mary: Yes, fine, only explain to me one thing. Why do you continue to crew for Scrounge when so many nicer skippers have invited you to race. He never repays you for the supplies you buy; he never says a word of thanks for the extra work you do on his boat. He never even lets you drive. Scrounge moves close to the TV, curious to hear Bob’s answer.)


Bob: Sailing is the only joy that Eli allows himself, Mary. He claims no family, no real friends, and his job forces him to work night and day. This regatta is the only present he’ll receive — not to be alone on Christmas Eve. He introduced me to yacht racing. I’d like to introduce him to friendship. (Firmly, more to himself than to Mary) I won’t desert him now! (listens to a noise from below) Is that Briny Tom playing again? I wish he would show as much interest in sailing as he does in that guitar of his.


Mary: Give the boy time, Bob. Briny wants so much to become a sailor, just like you, but he claims that being on a boat makes him feel lousy and he can’t concentrate, (trying to be diplomatic) You could try a little more patience with him.


Bob: Mary, he drives me to the very brink of insanity – constantly complaining about not feeling so good, asking the same questions over and over because he’s not paying attention,


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48° NORTH, DECEMBER 2011 PAGE 31


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