Thing A Week Redux
I think it's been over a month since I did my thing a week. Well, I'm in Colorado now, and settled in, so I'm restarting it. This one is for the week before last - that is, the first week of the year. I'm gonna try to do one every week this year. The one for last week I'll be posting 'shortly'.
(The setting is an airport chapel. Cait kneels at the front of the otherwise empty room. She's dressed a bit shabbily, and she has a bag lying next to her. She gets up with her bag, walks to the door, stops, and comes back, returning the bag to where it was.)
(After a moment John enters. He falls to the floor.)
Cait - Are you alright?
John - No.
Cait - Stupid question, I know.
John - I don't even know what the hell I'm doing here. I'm not - uh -
Cait - An airport chapel devotee?
John - No.
Cait - They have a schedule, actually. Right now you're a Lutheran.
John - I don't feel like a Lutheran. I just feel terrible.
Cait - It's a start. (pause) So what's wrong?
John - What isn't wrong. (pause) What?
Cait - Well, what isn't wrong?
John - I'm alive. Uh... I'm alive.
Cait - You're healthy. You're in a friendly place.
John - I've never thought of church as a friendly place before. But I've only been a Lutheran for two minutes.
Cait - There's still some time. (pause) So, what's wrong, then?
John - Well, there's a woman.
Cait - Oh. Does she like you?
John - Well, yes. But that's kind of the problem.
Cait - Oh shit. Hold on. (She ducks down onto the floor. John does the same. Valerie opens the door, looks around, and then exits.) Okay, we're good.
John - What was that?
Cait - Nothing.
John - I thought we were Muslims.
Cait - Not yet. So what were you saying.
John - So then what was-
Cait - I just didn't want an interruption. You were talking about your lady trouble?
John - Um. Yeah. (pause) I don't know where to start.
Cait - What's her name?
John - Valerie.
Cait - And she likes you.
John - Yeah.
Cait - But you're not sure if you like her.
John - Well it's not quite so second-grade as that, but that's the basics, yes.
Cait - If it were second grade you could just throw a mud pie at her and be done with it.
John - She'd kill me if I got mud on her dress.
Cait - She wore a dress to the airport?
John - Yeah.
Cait - What kind?
John - I don't know. It's pretty and it's flowy and it cost thousands of dollars.
Cait - Wow.
John - Yeah. Her parents feel naked unless they're wearing a Beamer's worth, and she got a bit of that.
Cait - There are worse problems to have.
John - There are better ones, too.
Cait - So is that why you're so worried? Didn't you know she was rich folk from the beginning?
John - Well-yeah.
Cait - Well there you go. Oop - you're a Buddhist now, by the way.
John - Maybe that's why the money is bothering me. (Cait sits on the floor and meditates for a moment. John sits as well) So why are you here?
Cait - Oh. Um. I just think it's a good place to stop, when you're used to running all over.
John - You travel a lot?
Cait - A fair bit, yeah. I'm a spokesperson. My boyfriend sells pharmaceuticals, and I help.
John - What kind of pharmaceuticals?
Cait - I dunno, I've never tried them. They're supposed to be good for glaucoma patients, though.
John - Ah.
Cait - As long as I can help relieve suffering, I'm happy, I guess.
John - (pause) And, really, it doesn't bother me so much that she's rich. She doesn't always act like her parents. Usually she's just - her, which is sometimes oblivious and bizarre but which is always lovely. But since we got engaged she's getting more like them, closer to them every day. Like a comet being reeled in by a star. A star with a fake British accent. And badly faked at that.
Cait - When're you getting married?
John - May. At her parents' place upstate. It'll be a grand ceremony, I hear.
Cait - There's still time to change that.
John - I do love her, though. I just don't want her to be like them.
Cait - Everyone's like their parents.
John - I refuse to believe that.
Cait - It's predestination. You're a Calvinist now, you have to.
John - She was chosen by God to be saved from that fate. I know it.
Cait - How's that?
John - Well-maybe that's what I have to do.
Cait - You can't change people. I've tried and it's a bad road.
John - I'm not saying I'm supposed to change her. Maybe I'm here to help her see who she really is?
Cait - Don't ask me like that. I'm not a preacher.
John - You just told me I was a Calvinist.
Cait - Yeah well Calvinists don't have women preachers.
John - Fair enough.
Cait - Well, no it's not, but it's true. (pause) Underneath the snootiness and piles of cash, does she really love you?
John - Yes.
Cait - Well that's what's important, right?
John - I don't want that to get buried. Every layer of pomp and circumstance that her parents pile on her makes me afraid that I'll lose sight of her. That I won't love her anymore. I think that's the worst thought.
Cait - It sounds like you should dig her out, then.
John - I can't marry her without her parents. I mean, I could, but she - Her parents would hate me. They might hate her, too. They could make our lives hell.
Cait - First off, they love her, so they'd get over it sooner or later. And second, you're a Unitarian-Universalist now, so you don't believe in Hell. So just follow your heart. And trust me because this time I am a preacher.
(Valerie enters. Cait jumps behind the pew again.)
Valerie - Where in God's name have you been?
John - God's house, technically.
Valerie - If you make my parents late for the opera it'll take better jokes than that to placate them.
John - I don't want to go to the opera.
Valerie - Well neither do I, for its own sake. We do things we don't want to do sometimes. It's how we show people we love them.
John - There are other ways. Listen - do you want to get married?
Valerie - I said yes the last time you asked.
John - Right now.
Valerie - What about the opera? What about my parents? And May?
John - They'll forgive you. A hundred grand saved is a hundred grand earned, anyway. (pause) I know it's selfish, but I want our wedding to be about us. You and me.
Valerie - Yes. (Cait comes out) Who-
Cait - It's cool, I'm a preacher. You ready? (pause) So. (pause) This temple's here because people are always coming and going. If the two of you want to stay where you are, it'd better be for a good reason. (to John) Is this for good? Even when she acts like her parents, when she's grumpy and foreign just as much as when she's happy?
John - Yes.
Cait - (To Valerie) And even when he's afraid, and feels like he doesn't belong, when he sees stuff in you that he doesn't like? Even then?
Valerie - Even then.
Cait - Awesome. You're married.
John - Thanks.
Valerie - Thank you. (They exit)
Cait - (Pause, looks up for a moment, then picks up her phone.) Bobby? Yeah. Listen, the goods are behind the pew in the LaGuardia airport chapel. Yeah, I could get them out, but I'm not gonna. Yeah, I know you're mad. No, I don't care. I think I need a new start. If you need to find me, well, you won't. Bye. (She leaves the phone and the bag behind the pew and leaves. She comes back in and looks up.) Whatever your name is - thanks. (She exits.)
(The setting is an airport chapel. Cait kneels at the front of the otherwise empty room. She's dressed a bit shabbily, and she has a bag lying next to her. She gets up with her bag, walks to the door, stops, and comes back, returning the bag to where it was.)
(After a moment John enters. He falls to the floor.)
Cait - Are you alright?
John - No.
Cait - Stupid question, I know.
John - I don't even know what the hell I'm doing here. I'm not - uh -
Cait - An airport chapel devotee?
John - No.
Cait - They have a schedule, actually. Right now you're a Lutheran.
John - I don't feel like a Lutheran. I just feel terrible.
Cait - It's a start. (pause) So what's wrong?
John - What isn't wrong. (pause) What?
Cait - Well, what isn't wrong?
John - I'm alive. Uh... I'm alive.
Cait - You're healthy. You're in a friendly place.
John - I've never thought of church as a friendly place before. But I've only been a Lutheran for two minutes.
Cait - There's still some time. (pause) So, what's wrong, then?
John - Well, there's a woman.
Cait - Oh. Does she like you?
John - Well, yes. But that's kind of the problem.
Cait - Oh shit. Hold on. (She ducks down onto the floor. John does the same. Valerie opens the door, looks around, and then exits.) Okay, we're good.
John - What was that?
Cait - Nothing.
John - I thought we were Muslims.
Cait - Not yet. So what were you saying.
John - So then what was-
Cait - I just didn't want an interruption. You were talking about your lady trouble?
John - Um. Yeah. (pause) I don't know where to start.
Cait - What's her name?
John - Valerie.
Cait - And she likes you.
John - Yeah.
Cait - But you're not sure if you like her.
John - Well it's not quite so second-grade as that, but that's the basics, yes.
Cait - If it were second grade you could just throw a mud pie at her and be done with it.
John - She'd kill me if I got mud on her dress.
Cait - She wore a dress to the airport?
John - Yeah.
Cait - What kind?
John - I don't know. It's pretty and it's flowy and it cost thousands of dollars.
Cait - Wow.
John - Yeah. Her parents feel naked unless they're wearing a Beamer's worth, and she got a bit of that.
Cait - There are worse problems to have.
John - There are better ones, too.
Cait - So is that why you're so worried? Didn't you know she was rich folk from the beginning?
John - Well-yeah.
Cait - Well there you go. Oop - you're a Buddhist now, by the way.
John - Maybe that's why the money is bothering me. (Cait sits on the floor and meditates for a moment. John sits as well) So why are you here?
Cait - Oh. Um. I just think it's a good place to stop, when you're used to running all over.
John - You travel a lot?
Cait - A fair bit, yeah. I'm a spokesperson. My boyfriend sells pharmaceuticals, and I help.
John - What kind of pharmaceuticals?
Cait - I dunno, I've never tried them. They're supposed to be good for glaucoma patients, though.
John - Ah.
Cait - As long as I can help relieve suffering, I'm happy, I guess.
John - (pause) And, really, it doesn't bother me so much that she's rich. She doesn't always act like her parents. Usually she's just - her, which is sometimes oblivious and bizarre but which is always lovely. But since we got engaged she's getting more like them, closer to them every day. Like a comet being reeled in by a star. A star with a fake British accent. And badly faked at that.
Cait - When're you getting married?
John - May. At her parents' place upstate. It'll be a grand ceremony, I hear.
Cait - There's still time to change that.
John - I do love her, though. I just don't want her to be like them.
Cait - Everyone's like their parents.
John - I refuse to believe that.
Cait - It's predestination. You're a Calvinist now, you have to.
John - She was chosen by God to be saved from that fate. I know it.
Cait - How's that?
John - Well-maybe that's what I have to do.
Cait - You can't change people. I've tried and it's a bad road.
John - I'm not saying I'm supposed to change her. Maybe I'm here to help her see who she really is?
Cait - Don't ask me like that. I'm not a preacher.
John - You just told me I was a Calvinist.
Cait - Yeah well Calvinists don't have women preachers.
John - Fair enough.
Cait - Well, no it's not, but it's true. (pause) Underneath the snootiness and piles of cash, does she really love you?
John - Yes.
Cait - Well that's what's important, right?
John - I don't want that to get buried. Every layer of pomp and circumstance that her parents pile on her makes me afraid that I'll lose sight of her. That I won't love her anymore. I think that's the worst thought.
Cait - It sounds like you should dig her out, then.
John - I can't marry her without her parents. I mean, I could, but she - Her parents would hate me. They might hate her, too. They could make our lives hell.
Cait - First off, they love her, so they'd get over it sooner or later. And second, you're a Unitarian-Universalist now, so you don't believe in Hell. So just follow your heart. And trust me because this time I am a preacher.
(Valerie enters. Cait jumps behind the pew again.)
Valerie - Where in God's name have you been?
John - God's house, technically.
Valerie - If you make my parents late for the opera it'll take better jokes than that to placate them.
John - I don't want to go to the opera.
Valerie - Well neither do I, for its own sake. We do things we don't want to do sometimes. It's how we show people we love them.
John - There are other ways. Listen - do you want to get married?
Valerie - I said yes the last time you asked.
John - Right now.
Valerie - What about the opera? What about my parents? And May?
John - They'll forgive you. A hundred grand saved is a hundred grand earned, anyway. (pause) I know it's selfish, but I want our wedding to be about us. You and me.
Valerie - Yes. (Cait comes out) Who-
Cait - It's cool, I'm a preacher. You ready? (pause) So. (pause) This temple's here because people are always coming and going. If the two of you want to stay where you are, it'd better be for a good reason. (to John) Is this for good? Even when she acts like her parents, when she's grumpy and foreign just as much as when she's happy?
John - Yes.
Cait - (To Valerie) And even when he's afraid, and feels like he doesn't belong, when he sees stuff in you that he doesn't like? Even then?
Valerie - Even then.
Cait - Awesome. You're married.
John - Thanks.
Valerie - Thank you. (They exit)
Cait - (Pause, looks up for a moment, then picks up her phone.) Bobby? Yeah. Listen, the goods are behind the pew in the LaGuardia airport chapel. Yeah, I could get them out, but I'm not gonna. Yeah, I know you're mad. No, I don't care. I think I need a new start. If you need to find me, well, you won't. Bye. (She leaves the phone and the bag behind the pew and leaves. She comes back in and looks up.) Whatever your name is - thanks. (She exits.)