(no subject)
Waiting For An Answer From The College To Which I Applied
A suburban road.
A tree.
Mid-afternoon.
The mailbox, standing at the end of the driveway, does pretty much what a mailbox ought and stand at the end of the driveway. Sometimes it blinks. On occasion it yawns.
We will call it WINSTON.
Enter DANI, a more or less typical senior in high school, pulling on hat, scarf, and mittens. She scuffles down the driveway toward the curb.
DANI: Could it get any colder?
WINSTON: It can, and more likely than not, it will.
DANI: I think I might hate you.
WINSTON: That’s not very nice.
DANI: It’s what you deserve for being realistic. (listlessly) I shouldn’t be out here. It’s freezing and I’ll surely catch my death of pneumonia or hypothermia or something else that involves being unpleasantly uncomfortable along the way to dying.
WINSTON: It seems much more likely that death would catch you, rather than the other way around, don’t you think?
DANI: True, true. That’s why I have a coat; it makes me rounder, harder to hang onto. (pause) Is there mail yet?
WINSTON: Guess.
DANI: Guess?
WINSTON: Yes.
DANI: All right. Yes.
WINSTON: You’re sure?
DANI: Absolutely. I believe that there is mail.
WINSTON: Check, then.
DANI: (opens mailbox, peers inside, is clearly disappointed) Well. I did have my doubts.
WINSTON: Ah.
DANI: But it should be here by now.
WINSTON: The mail?
DANI: The mail is unreliable at best. It couldn’t be guaranteed this early in the day. It comes when it pleases. But my letter-now that should be here by now.
WINSTON: Wait.
DANI: I am.
WINSTON: You mean to say that your letter, which is coming by mail, should be here, even though the mail has no obligation to be?
DANI: They may be mutual and inclusive, but they’re not mutually inclusive. There’s a world of difference.
WINSTON: Speaking of which. Where in the world is it coming from?
DANI: Who knows with the mail these days. It was probably rerouted to Alaska. It’s cold in Alaska.
WINSTON: But where is it coming from originally?
DANI: Far away. Not as far as Alaska-at least not from here. But far enough that it’s colder.
WINSTON: Than Alaska?
DANI: Than here.
WINSTON: It’s cold here.
DANI: So it is. Which is why it makes no sense that my letter hasn’t arrived yet, if the weather determines the whether or not.
WINSTON: And it doesn’t.
DANI: Judging by my lack of a letter, no.
WINSTON: When was it meant to get here?
DANI: Any day now.
WINSTON: Then it’s about time.
DANI: Early December, they said.
WINSTON: And you had to take their word for it.
DANI: They gave me their word.
WINSTON: They did?
DANI: The college did. Well, a woman at the admissions office did. Well, no. It was a voice…
WINSTON: In your head?
DANI: On the other end of the phone and then in my head, certainly.
WINSTON: Sounds like a trustworthy source.
DANI: Oh, it was.
WINSTON: Though that’s to be seen.
DANI: You’ll see soon. When the letter arrives. When the letter arrives… I might hang myself from that tree.
WINSTON: That seems a bit irrevocable.
DANI: Just a little. I’ll only be doing it if the letter’s bad news. But what would I use? (paces, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and stops abruptly) Oh! I’ve got it. My scarf would make a good rope. It’ll be perfect…but I don’t know how to tie a noose. I haven’t learned the knots. No use learning the ropes without the knots, I suppose.
WINSTON: No use going through all that work to throw it all away. If you can’t accept rejection, you shouldn’t put yourself in a position to expect it. At least you’re expecting a letter. That’s better than most.
DANI: But it would be tragic to die!
WINSTON: It would be…dramatic.
DANI: (appalled) Come to think of it, the tree is kind of scrawny. Maybe I won’t have to hang myself. In the meantime, the anticipation is killing me.
WINSTON: It might be the cold.
DANI: (sneezes)
WINSTON: Oh look. It’s snowing.
(And so it is. Enter the MAILMAN.)
DANI: Hello! You’re here.
WINSTON: You’re early.
MAILMAN: I’m trying.
WINSTON: But only by comparison. Early by your standards is most people’s late.
MAILMAN: And my late is most people’s early the next morning. So what?
DANI: I’m expecting something…
MAILMAN: It had better be a letter. I don’t deliver babies.
DANI: I hope that wasn't supposed to be a pun. It was awful. I'm waiting for a letter. Do you have it?
MAILMAN: That depends.
DANI: It shouldn’t.
MAILMAN: But it does. Let me ask you this. Do you want me to have it or not? Is it good news or bad?
WINSTON: (to the MAILMAN) Her life is in the balance. You’ll have to be careful.
DANI: I don’t know if it’s good news or bad news. I won’t know until I read, and I won’t be able to read it until-
MAILMAN: How bout this? I check first, and then I let you have it if it’s good and I don’t if it’s bad.
DANI: But I’ll know if you don’t give it to me.
MAILMAN: You won’t have a clue. It may just not have come yet.
WINSTON: Not that it makes much difference. She’s going to kill herself, regardless.
MAILMAN: That’s what they all say.
DANI: Do you have my letter or not?
MAILMAN: (digs around in his truck for a long moment and eventually emerges, grinning, or perhaps, grimacing) Not yet.
DANI: (sigh)
MAILMAN: You’re blaming me for this?
DANI: I didn’t say-
MAILMAN: You sighed like you did. Actions speak louder than words. And so do your sighs. You sigh louder than you talk. It's aggravating.
DANI: I don’t blame you at all; that wouldn’t be-
MAILMAN: Maybe you should. It might be my fault. As likely me as anyone else. Christ, it’s snowing. I should leave before I get stuck. (Neither he nor his truck move)
WINSTON: (to DANI) And you should go inside. There’s no reason for you to stay out here any longer.
DANI: There’s no reason for me to go in.
WINSTON: But there are reasons for you not to stay, which is close enough.
DANI: It doesn’t make any difference.
WINSTON: But it might tomorrow. If your letter comes.
MAILMAN: (finally gets the engine to turn over and exits) See you tomorrow.
WINSTON: See, he’s counting on seeing you.
DANI: I’m counting on him.
WINSTON: You’re holding him accountable.
DANI: I’m not, really. I’m too busy counting the days. I hope my letter comes soon.
WINSTON: Well. You’ll just have to wait and see.
DANI nods and trudges back up the driveway to the warmth of her house and exits through the door
A suburban road.
A tree.
Mid-afternoon.
The mailbox, standing at the end of the driveway, does pretty much what a mailbox ought and stand at the end of the driveway. Sometimes it blinks. On occasion it yawns.
We will call it WINSTON.
Enter DANI, a more or less typical senior in high school, pulling on hat, scarf, and mittens. She scuffles down the driveway toward the curb.
DANI: Could it get any colder?
WINSTON: It can, and more likely than not, it will.
DANI: I think I might hate you.
WINSTON: That’s not very nice.
DANI: It’s what you deserve for being realistic. (listlessly) I shouldn’t be out here. It’s freezing and I’ll surely catch my death of pneumonia or hypothermia or something else that involves being unpleasantly uncomfortable along the way to dying.
WINSTON: It seems much more likely that death would catch you, rather than the other way around, don’t you think?
DANI: True, true. That’s why I have a coat; it makes me rounder, harder to hang onto. (pause) Is there mail yet?
WINSTON: Guess.
DANI: Guess?
WINSTON: Yes.
DANI: All right. Yes.
WINSTON: You’re sure?
DANI: Absolutely. I believe that there is mail.
WINSTON: Check, then.
DANI: (opens mailbox, peers inside, is clearly disappointed) Well. I did have my doubts.
WINSTON: Ah.
DANI: But it should be here by now.
WINSTON: The mail?
DANI: The mail is unreliable at best. It couldn’t be guaranteed this early in the day. It comes when it pleases. But my letter-now that should be here by now.
WINSTON: Wait.
DANI: I am.
WINSTON: You mean to say that your letter, which is coming by mail, should be here, even though the mail has no obligation to be?
DANI: They may be mutual and inclusive, but they’re not mutually inclusive. There’s a world of difference.
WINSTON: Speaking of which. Where in the world is it coming from?
DANI: Who knows with the mail these days. It was probably rerouted to Alaska. It’s cold in Alaska.
WINSTON: But where is it coming from originally?
DANI: Far away. Not as far as Alaska-at least not from here. But far enough that it’s colder.
WINSTON: Than Alaska?
DANI: Than here.
WINSTON: It’s cold here.
DANI: So it is. Which is why it makes no sense that my letter hasn’t arrived yet, if the weather determines the whether or not.
WINSTON: And it doesn’t.
DANI: Judging by my lack of a letter, no.
WINSTON: When was it meant to get here?
DANI: Any day now.
WINSTON: Then it’s about time.
DANI: Early December, they said.
WINSTON: And you had to take their word for it.
DANI: They gave me their word.
WINSTON: They did?
DANI: The college did. Well, a woman at the admissions office did. Well, no. It was a voice…
WINSTON: In your head?
DANI: On the other end of the phone and then in my head, certainly.
WINSTON: Sounds like a trustworthy source.
DANI: Oh, it was.
WINSTON: Though that’s to be seen.
DANI: You’ll see soon. When the letter arrives. When the letter arrives… I might hang myself from that tree.
WINSTON: That seems a bit irrevocable.
DANI: Just a little. I’ll only be doing it if the letter’s bad news. But what would I use? (paces, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and stops abruptly) Oh! I’ve got it. My scarf would make a good rope. It’ll be perfect…but I don’t know how to tie a noose. I haven’t learned the knots. No use learning the ropes without the knots, I suppose.
WINSTON: No use going through all that work to throw it all away. If you can’t accept rejection, you shouldn’t put yourself in a position to expect it. At least you’re expecting a letter. That’s better than most.
DANI: But it would be tragic to die!
WINSTON: It would be…dramatic.
DANI: (appalled) Come to think of it, the tree is kind of scrawny. Maybe I won’t have to hang myself. In the meantime, the anticipation is killing me.
WINSTON: It might be the cold.
DANI: (sneezes)
WINSTON: Oh look. It’s snowing.
(And so it is. Enter the MAILMAN.)
DANI: Hello! You’re here.
WINSTON: You’re early.
MAILMAN: I’m trying.
WINSTON: But only by comparison. Early by your standards is most people’s late.
MAILMAN: And my late is most people’s early the next morning. So what?
DANI: I’m expecting something…
MAILMAN: It had better be a letter. I don’t deliver babies.
DANI: I hope that wasn't supposed to be a pun. It was awful. I'm waiting for a letter. Do you have it?
MAILMAN: That depends.
DANI: It shouldn’t.
MAILMAN: But it does. Let me ask you this. Do you want me to have it or not? Is it good news or bad?
WINSTON: (to the MAILMAN) Her life is in the balance. You’ll have to be careful.
DANI: I don’t know if it’s good news or bad news. I won’t know until I read, and I won’t be able to read it until-
MAILMAN: How bout this? I check first, and then I let you have it if it’s good and I don’t if it’s bad.
DANI: But I’ll know if you don’t give it to me.
MAILMAN: You won’t have a clue. It may just not have come yet.
WINSTON: Not that it makes much difference. She’s going to kill herself, regardless.
MAILMAN: That’s what they all say.
DANI: Do you have my letter or not?
MAILMAN: (digs around in his truck for a long moment and eventually emerges, grinning, or perhaps, grimacing) Not yet.
DANI: (sigh)
MAILMAN: You’re blaming me for this?
DANI: I didn’t say-
MAILMAN: You sighed like you did. Actions speak louder than words. And so do your sighs. You sigh louder than you talk. It's aggravating.
DANI: I don’t blame you at all; that wouldn’t be-
MAILMAN: Maybe you should. It might be my fault. As likely me as anyone else. Christ, it’s snowing. I should leave before I get stuck. (Neither he nor his truck move)
WINSTON: (to DANI) And you should go inside. There’s no reason for you to stay out here any longer.
DANI: There’s no reason for me to go in.
WINSTON: But there are reasons for you not to stay, which is close enough.
DANI: It doesn’t make any difference.
WINSTON: But it might tomorrow. If your letter comes.
MAILMAN: (finally gets the engine to turn over and exits) See you tomorrow.
WINSTON: See, he’s counting on seeing you.
DANI: I’m counting on him.
WINSTON: You’re holding him accountable.
DANI: I’m not, really. I’m too busy counting the days. I hope my letter comes soon.
WINSTON: Well. You’ll just have to wait and see.
DANI nods and trudges back up the driveway to the warmth of her house and exits through the door