The December Man (L'homme de décembre)

By Colleen Murphy

In the aftermath of the 1989 Montreal Massacre, Benoît and Kathleen do everything they can to help their beloved son cope with his guilt and rage… but Jean's young life becomes unglued.

Using humour and the humdrum of everyday life, Murphy intuitively moves backwards in time to the fateful day when Jean, the only ray of hope in this working-class family, escaped the massacre… or thought he did. This searing drama on courage, heroism, and despair explores the long private shadow that public violence casts. Winner of the 2007 Governor General's Literary Award for Drama and the 2008 CAA Carol Bolt Award.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Playwrights Canada Press
• Release date: May 1, 2007
• ISBN: 9780369102591

Colleen Murphy

Colleen Murphy is an award-winning author who was born in Rouyn-Noranda, Quebec, and has since relocated to Toronto. Her plays include The December Man (L'homme de décembre)—winner of the 2007 Governor General's Literary Award for Drama, the Carol Bolt Award, and the Alberta Theatre Projects Enbridge playRites Award—Beating Heart Cadaver, The Goodnight Bird, and The Piper, among others. She is also a librettist (The Enslavement and Liberation of Oksana G.) and an award-winning filmmaker whose distinct films have played in festivals around the world. For more information, visit colleenmurphy.ca.

Book preview

Scene One

…a happy little boy who always tried his best.

March 1992.

In this very modest living room, a matching couch and chair face out to the audience and a television faces in. Behind the couch are open drapes and behind those, heavy sheers. Bright, blinding sunlight pours in through the sheers. Side tables flank the couch on either side and a low coffee table rests in front. A phone sits on one of the side tables and a knitting basket is tucked under the coffee table. A Lazee-Boy is positioned to get the best view of the television. A large framed picture—an aerial photograph of Île St. Helene and Île Notre-Dame with expo 67 written across the bottom—graces one wall while a framed high school graduation picture of a young man graces another, and a crucifix, another. On Stage Right (SR) is an entrance that leads to the kitchen, the basement, and the back door. On Stage Left (SL) is an entrance that leads off to the front door and down a hall towards the bedrooms. Everything in this room is neat and polished. There are throw rugs over the carpets, covers on the couch and chair, doilies under the lamp and on the back of the couch and Lazee-Boy.

A structure of what may have originally been a model of a highrise, sits on a piece of Plexiglas that is perched on a small table that stands in one corner. The structure is bottom-heavy, dusty, and held together with masking tape.

BENOÎT, dressed in his only suit, wanders into the living room and stands in front of the television. Childhood polio resulted in a slight limp. Absently he watches the screen as if waiting for something to happen… but the television is off. He seems uncomfortable in his freshly polished shoes and pressed white shirt, the collar of which is undone. He clutches a tie in one hand.

KATHLEEN enters from SL carrying a sealed envelope. She is dressed in a green dress, matching top and heels. Her hair is neatly done. She lays the envelope on the coffee table.

BENOÎT: Green suits you.

KATE: I bought it ’specially for his graduation.

BENOÎT nearly breaks into tears… but manages to hold back.

Want help with that?

BENOÎT: Yep. Don’t get enough practice tying a tie, that’s for sure.

She ties his tie…

Okay, pas trop serré.

…then she finishes. Neither one knows what to do next.

KATE: We better sit down…

BENOÎT: Yep.

They both sit on the couch. BENOÎT pulls up the knees of his pants.

KATE: How long do you think it’ll take?

BENOÎT: Not long—I turned it up full blast.

They wait… awkward, uncertain.

KATE: I saw a crocus this morning… out in the backyard near the fence.

BENOÎT: That’s early. They don’t usually come up ’til April.

KATE: A purple one… peeking up from under the snow. Guess winter’s over.

BENOÎT: Yep.

Silence.

I’m suddenly hungry.

KATE: Well I’m not getting up to cook anything now. Not even going to get you a glass of water, nothing. Kitchen’s spotless and it’s staying that way. No one’s gonna accuse Kathleen Fournier of leaving a mess behind.

BENOÎT: The front door unlocked?

KATE: It’s unlocked, Benoît.

BENOÎT: Check the towels?

KATE: They’re all in place, good and snug.

BENOÎT: You put one down in front of the back door?

KATE: (nods) And the basement door.

BENOÎT: I’ll double-check.

BENOÎT gets up and exits SR.

KATE: I checked everything twice.

A sound is heard coming from the kitchen.

Don’t start pulling stuff out of the fridge.

BENOÎT: (off) Just getting a drink.

He enters with glass of whiskey and all but gulps it down.

KATE: Save me a sip.

BENOÎT: Finish it off.

She does so then hands him the glass.

KATE: Wash it and put it away.

BENOÎT exits SR.

Silence.

Are you washing that glass?

The sound of running water is heard for a second then BENOÎT re-enters—carrying a bottle of whiskey.

BENOÎT: I worry about the house exploding.

KATE: Nothing’s gonna explode unless you light a cigarette.

BENOÎT: A match would speed