Rinn Packard
Characters
LARK – Late twenties. Woman of color.
GEORGIA – Early thirties. Woman of color.
Setting
A living room.
Notes
(…) indicates a moment of consideration.
(–) indicates an interruption in thought.
Words in parentheses are said to one’s self.
Lark stands in an empty area of the stage. The rest of the stage is dark. She addresses the audience.
LARK
When I was sixteen, I was on my high school diving team. Which is fun for me to talk about now, since adults are always like Oh diving! That’s so unique! But it definitely did not make me cool in high school. Mostly because of the face thing. This special thing happens to your face when you’re mid-dive where it like… Um… Okay, have you ever been to the dentist? Of course you have, that was a dumb question. Have you ever gotten braces put in? It’s okay if not, my brother didn’t because he was blessed with the good teeth genes. And the good skin genes. But also the asshole genes, so I can’t be too bitter. Anyway, you know how the dentist holds your mouth open with that spreader thing and it looks absolutely horrifying? Google it if you don’t know what I’m talking about. (I guess they could also just Google diver’s faces. Hm.)
Beat.
LARK
Well whatever, I’m just going to finish my thought and make a mental note not mention Google next time. So basically, when you’re diving, every hole in your face kind of looks like the braces sitch. Because of how fast you’re falling, and the air you’re displacing. Your face is like a wind sock. (Oh, that’s good. Simple. I should just use that.) Okay so windsock, not great. And it’s extra not great when, say, I don’t know, just imagining a hypothetical situation that definitely is not something that I personally experienced… Your high school yearbook photographer comes to a meet to take photos, and even though you’re pretty sure you never signed a photo release form, a certain mid-dive photo of your wind-sock face is included as a full page feature in the one book every high schooler buys and reads. So. You can imagine how a girl who had that happen to her might not have been cool in high school.
Lights come up on the rest of the stage. Georgia sits leaning against an arm of a well-worn couch, a knit blanket draped over its back.
GEORGIA
I think you’re getting off track, babe.
LARK
Right, this isn’t about that. Sorry.
To the audience:
LARK
I was on my high school diving team. Which was actually a huge deal to me, ‘cause when I was really young, I was deathly scared of heights. Like, shit yourself in the Empire State Building scared. That’s a funny story actually, I –
GEORGIA
Hey. Focus.
LARK
Fuck. Okay. Right.
GEORGIA
Also – and this is just some constructive criticism, take it or leave it – I’m getting a lot of you in this. It’s sounding a lot like Lark, Lark, Lark. When are you gonna give poor lil ol’ me some love?
LARK
I’m getting to it! Promise. Be patient.
Georgia puts her hands up, yielding the floor. Lark, to the audience:
LARK
So I was scared of heights, and the whole concept of like, climbing into the air and then falling for fun was just ridiculous to me. I was much more of a sit-in-the-hot-tub-until-my-toes-were-raisins kind of kid. So, how did I get into diving then? Well there was this point in middle school when it felt like my tiny kid life was falling apart. My parents had just gotten a divorce, I had to move across the country to live with my dad, and my brother suddenly decided that that year, it might be a cool idea to turn into just a huge, gaping asshole. And my tiny kid brain was like, okay. Enough is enough. I’m tired of feeling so tiny and so scared all the time – I’m twelve and I’ve had my period for a whole three months! I’m a woman for god’s sake! You know what I’m not? A pussy bitch. So I went to the YMCA and thought, you know, go big or go home, right? I climbed up the tallest of the diving boards and then stood there, wobbling, for like, twenty-five minutes. And I couldn’t do it. I really thought I was ready. I stood up there, sweating, crying, shaking, and just couldn’t jump. So I had to face the cold, hard fact that I was indeed a pussy bitch. I was going to have to scoot back to the ladder and climb all the way down a failure. But my hands were so sweaty that half-way back across the board, I lost my grip. And I started to fall. And for that split second where I knew I was going to fall but hadn’t fallen yet – terrifying. I’m actually kind of surprised I didn’t shit my pants then.
GEORGIA
Swimsuit.
LARK
Didn’t shit my swimsuit. Thanks babe. A critical detail.
GEORGIA
Of course. What would you do without me?
LARK
Yeah, I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. So it’s kind of a sore subject right now, actually.
GEORGIA
Right. My bad. Carry on. I’m not here.
Beat. To the audience:
LARK
But then I was actually falling. Not about to, not worrying about it, just fully in the act of falling. And I didn’t feel scared anymore. I felt… resigned? Which feels an awful lot like acceptance. Which feels an awful lot like contentment, even joy. And that. That’s what it felt like to fall in love with Georgia.
GEORGIA
Oh.
LARK
Yeah. The whole thing. The climb, the fear, the retreat, the fall. The joy.
Beat.
GEORGIA
I see what you did there.
LARK
Told you to be patient.
GEORGIA
In my defense, you took your sweet time.
LARK
You wouldn’t be you if you were patient.
Beat. To the audience:
LARK
When she told me she was sick, I didn’t cry. I don’t think I believed anything would ever actually happen. My dad had gotten sick, prostate cancer. I remember the two of us watching Dr. Oz once, and him joking on his show that anyone who lived long enough would eventually get prostate cancer. My dad was like you better live long enough to get prostate cancer or I’ll be pissed from beyond the grave. Had to explain to him how that meant I could never die, given that women don’t have prostates and all. Perfect, he had said. But he got better. He’s been in remission for years now. I kind of just assumed it would be like that. I didn’t get it. Didn’t really want to, I think. And as she got sicker, I just thought, you know, it’s always darkest before the dawn? Some Florence and the Machine bullshit. Okay I know she didn’t invent that sentiment, but she did set it to a very catchy tune. We listened to a lot of Florence and the Machine, it was one of her favorite bands.
GEORGIA
You know what this speech needs? Some music! A backing track! Right? And it doesn’t have to be Florence and the Machine, but I’m just saying that this is all technically for me, so…
LARK
I think it’d be a little distracting.
GEORGIA
Oh, okay. Sure.
LARK
Sorry. Do you really think I should? I can if you want me to.
GEORGIA
No, no. This is your thing, don’t mind me. I’ll just keep my mouth shut and continue looking absolutely gorgeous over here.
Georgia smiles, strikes some poses. Lark stares at her.
GEORGIA
So? Keep going.
LARK
Yeah. Yeah. So… I think it became our new normal, right?
Georgia nods. To the audience:
LARK
We made friends with other patients at the dialysis center. We’d take turns bringing low-sodium snacks, we had this whole rotation set up with the other regulars. She would work on knitting a blanket large enough to cover both our legs across the gap between her machine and my chair, and I read to her from sci-fi fantasy novels, twelve hours a week.
GEORGIA
My favorite’s always going to be Hitchhiker’s Guide. Remember the face?
LARK
How could I forget, you only made me do it a million times.
GEORGIA
Wait wait, show them! Ready? Ahem: “He was staring at the instruments with the air of one who is trying to convert Fahrenheit to Centigrade in his head while his house is burning down.”
Lark makes the face. Georgia tries to imitate it. They look at each other, and break into laughter.
GEORGIA
I was never as good at that as you were.
LARK
Yeah but you’re better at things like, I don’t know, paying bills on time, remembering to call your mom regularly, useless stuff like that.
GEORGIA
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it’s all about Google Calendar.
LARK
You know, the blanket still smells like you, a little bit. All I want to do is sleep in it but I don’t want it to lose that smell. So it just sits there.
GEORGIA
Aw, that’s sweet. But it’ll dissipate eventually anyway, might as well soak it in while it’s there.
Georgia grabs the blanket and wraps it around herself, situating herself cross-legged in her cocoon.
LARK
Nope.
GEORGIA
Why not? Otherwise it’s just some sappy, symbolic memorial for your dead wife, smack-dab in the middle of your living room.
LARK
Exactly, just how I like it. Besides, you used to say all the time that you wanted to leave a mark on the world.
GEORGIA
Well yeah, in the same way that I wanted to be recognized as a saint by the church when I died or like, to have a holiday named after me, you know?
LARK
You’re an atheist.
GEORGIA
All that talk was just the dumb human thing of wanting to be significant and immortal and shit. Of wanting to be more than just a blip in the universe. I didn’t mean for you to get stuck on a blanket.
LARK
I’m not stuck, I’m just… you know. Remembering.
GEORGIA
I don’t buy it. Hard to move forward while you’re looking back.
LARK
What are you, my therapist?
GEORGIA
If I was, you better believe I’d be charging you $225 an hour like Dr. Stephenson does. Unfortunately for my bank account, I’m just someone who loves you.
LARK
Right. Sorry.
GEORGIA
No need to apologize. I just don’t want to hold you back.
LARK
…I didn’t think it’d ever really happen. I didn’t plan for this. We had so many plans for our future and none of them included this. Most of them included moving to the Pacific Northwest, getting a dog, but none of them included being alone. I can’t even recognize my own life anymore.
GEORGIA
I think you mean New Mexico, and just like, so many cats.
LARK
We can’t have this fight again. I will not let you make me a crunchy desert lesbian.
GEORGIA
Well now you don’t have to worry about it.
LARK
Mean. That’s mean.
GEORGIA
Point is, you know how many of my plans included dying in my thirties? Baby, you gotta make new plans.
LARK
I don’t think I want to. I liked the ones we had. I want that future. I don’t want to forget all of it just so I can move on to live some different life I don’t even want.
GEORGIA
Now that’s mean.
LARK
What is?
GEORGIA
You don’t want your life? I do. I want it. Can you give it to me then? Because I don’t think I got quite the crack at mine that I deserved. If you’re not going to appreciate it, then I would like to trade places with you please.
LARK
I didn’t mean – I just want you. I don’t need all the other shit, I want you.
GEORGIA
You still have me. Here.
LARK
This is not enough.
Beat.
GEORGIA
Well, I guess there’s only one thing left to do then. It looks like you’re going to have to die.
LARK
What?
GEORGIA
Yup. If being alive is not enough, go ahead and die then. Does that sound like fun to you? You know it’s this or nothing, right? You don’t die and then get to meet me on a cloud surrounded by babies playing tiny harps. Nothing comes after. This? Right now? It’s something. I mean It’s shit, but at least it’s something. Death isn’t a thing you can experience. It’s this or literally nothing, the kind of nothing you can’t even comprehend. So I would take this, if I were you.
LARK
But you’re not here to feel it. You’re not actually here to feel what it’s like to lose you.
GEORGIA
I imagine it’s horrible. If it’s anything close to what it feels like to love someone, I can imagine. But you existed just fine before you met me and you will continue to exist just fine without me. I’m not saying you have to forget, but you have to keep going.
Beat.
LARK
It hurts, Georgia. I’ve hit the fucking water. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.
GEORGIA
You can’t just stop. You have to hold it. I’m sorry, but you have to keep holding it. You’ll adjust to the extra weight, learn a different way to move so it doesn’t feel so heavy. Maybe find some people who will help you carry it. Lighten the load. But you can’t really put it down.
Beat.
LARK
God, I miss you.
GEORGIA
That’s okay. That’s life.
LARK
What do I say to everyone? I don’t think I can say all this, not in front of your family.
GEORGIA
Just make a photo slideshow or something, people love that kind of shit. You know my mom, she would absolutely lap that up. Funerals are for the living, anyway.
Beat.
GEORGIA
Hey, come here.
Georgia motions for Lark to sit down next to her on the couch. She drapes the blanket and her arms around Lark, so that they are wrapped in it together. They sit, holding each other.
End of play.
Rinn Packard is a junior majoring in Theatre and Neuroscience. She’s originally from California, and hopes to go into social work after undergrad, so her majors are…confusing to everyone, including herself.
