Better Places to Go (6 page)

JUDY. Well, if there’s anything I can do –

LUCILLE. Thank you, Judy. I appreciate that. I’ll be boxing up her things this weekend. Come by and pick them up. Give ‘em to the church if you want. I got no use for ‘em.

JUDY. The church will gladly accept your donation.

LUCILLE. Well, they should. They’ve been cashing my checks for thirty-two years.

JUDY. You give money to the church?

LUCILLE. I don’t have to spend time in that place to talk to God. I can do that at home without all of those eyes staring at me and those mouths whispering about me when I walk by.
(Again, to Linda:)
This whole town thinks I’m crazy.

JUDY. We didn’t know where you were. When the sheriff was here, he said they couldn’t find you.

LUCILLE.
(Excited:)
I was out in the fields. There was a sighting in Kearney two nights ago. It shouldn’t be long, Judy. They know I’m ready to go.

LINDA. Go where?

LUCILLE. You’re not from Grand Island, are you?

LINDA. No, ma’am. I’m from Harmonville.

LUCILLE. A place the pioneers should’ve destroyed.

JUDY. This is Linda. She’s –

LUCILLE. About eight months pregnant.

LINDA.
Seven and a half.

LUCILLE. And either homeless or single or both. Your folks turn their backs on you?

JUDY. I don’t think Linda’s relations are of our concern.

LINDA. My boyfriend Alfred was mean to me. I left him at a gas station and I came here.

LUCILLE. You should have waited for another hundred miles. This place is better seen through a passing window.

JUDY. Then why have you stayed so many years?

LUCILLE. My house is paid for. Besides, this is alien country.

LINDA.
(Terrified:)
Alien?

LUCILLE. You ever see
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
?

LINDA. No, ma’am.

LUCILLE. What about
ET
?

LINDA. I don’t think so.

LUCILLE. I made Rosie watch
ET
about thirty times. She hated that movie. She said he looked like a pork roast. I didn’t really care for it much – it wasn’t very genuine. But the more she hated it, the more I wanted to watch it. You see, little Linda, I believe that life exists on other planets. I don’t mean places like Mars or Jupiter or Saturn. I’m talking about undiscovered territory. The wild west of the Milky Way. There’s another world out there – probably tens of thousands of them. A form of life with higher intelligence – intelligence we idiot humans couldn’t even begin to understand. A few years ago, I was planting marigolds around midnight – about two dozen seeds. I had insomnia and my rheumatism was in remission. I was wide awake and feeling spry. My hands were in the dirt and I heard a noise. It was like a soft whistle, a teakettle. So I looked up to the sky and I saw the most beautiful lights. They were shiny silver and purple and they glowed and the sky above my house lit up and I was blinded for a second, from the brightness and the beauty. And this sudden sense of calmness just crept over me like a warm bath. I can’t even describe it to you in words but I know what I saw. It took my breath away. I know it was not of this world. They were trying to communicate with me, making these gentle whistling sounds like a thousand lullabies. It was a symphony of sorts. Like the voices of angels. At first, I

thought
maybe I was dying and I was about to meet my maker. But I felt safe. I felt alive. So, I whistled back, just gently at first and then with more force. And the lights got brighter and the sounds got sweeter and it overwhelmed me. I blacked out and the next thing I remember is waking up with marigolds all around me, in full bloom. 

JUDY. Do you think they’re really coming back for you, Lucille?

LUCILLE. People do come back, Judy. And before I tell you something, I want you to realize that this is our good bye. You and I have been friends for many years. I’ve watched you break your back for that father of yours while he filled his liver with bourbon and whiskey down at Clyde’s.

JUDY.
(Defeated:)
Southern Comfort.

LUCILLE. When you leave this place, make sure you tell others my story. It won’t be long before I’m gone, too.

JUDY. What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.

LUCILLE.
(Beat.)
There’s a man outside. He’s waiting for you in the parking lot and he’s got five hundred miles of bad road in his eyes but forever in his smile. He asked me to come in and tell you that Tulsa is waitin’ for you.

JUDY.
(She rushes to the main entrance and looks out to the parking lot.)
He came back.

LUCILLE. In your heart, you knew he would.

JUDY. No. No, I doubted it.

LUCILLE. Go, Judy.
Before you give it a second thought. Don’t stop by the house and get your things. Don’t tuck your father into bed. You walk out this door, get in that big rig and don’t ever look back.

JUDY. I want to go, Lucille. God forgive me, but I do.

LUCILLE. So did Rosie.

JUDY.
(She goes to Linda.)
I won’t leave you here.

LINDA. You don’t even know me.

JUDY. Yes, I do. And I would never forgive myself if I left you in Grand Island.

LINDA. I don’t want to be the death of anyone. I don’t want to hold you back.

JUDY. That will never happen to me again.
(Beat.)
Come on. Let’s get your things. It’ll be warmer in Oklahoma. I promise. I’ll buy you a new pair of shoes.

LINDA.
(Beat.)
I don’t know how to thank you.

JUDY.
(Linda hugs Judy.)
Remember what your Aunt Ruth said? We have to take care of each other, Linda. We really do.
(They start towards the door. Judy stops, as she contemplates embracing Lucille.)

LUCILLE. Don’t say good bye to me, Judy. Just keep walking.
(After a moment, Judy and Linda exit. Lucille sits down and takes out a hand held video game from her back pack.)

RICARDO.
(He enters from the kitchen, with his duffle bag.)
Lucille?

LUCILLE. You’re too late, Ricardo. The bus pulled out five minutes ago.

RICARDO. How did you know?

LUCILLE. I saw him at the bus station on my way over here. He was sitting on the bench, shivering. I bought him a cup of hot chocolate and he bared his soul to me.
(Beat.)
The ten-thirty bus to California is long gone.

RICARDO.
(To himself:)
What have I done?

LUCILLE. You’ve brought that boy the only sense of love he’s ever known.

RICARDO. Does he know about Britney?

LUCILLE. He knows. I told him so.

RICARDO. Did he cry?

LUCILLE. That’s something he does often. It might be the only thing he knows how to do.

RICARDO. I don’t like it when he cries. What did you tell him?

LUCILLE.
That my granddaughter had been killed because she let her own greed impair her judgment. I told him Britney was the one who killed her. I told him his sister tried to do the right thing by going back to the store and putting the money back she stole. There was only one shot and it took her life and within seconds, she was gone.
(Beat.)
And I told him that if I knew you the way I thought I did, you’d be there with him by the time the bus left.
(Beat.)
I guess I was wrong.

RICARDO. You weren’t wrong.

LUCILLE. Then why are you still here?

RICARDO.
My sister.

LUCILLE. What about her? She’s a vegetable. 

RICARDO.
(Beat.)
  It was me, Lucille. I was the one driving the car. I wasn’t paying attention and I yelled at her and we hit the other car head on and her body…it just flew. She went through the windshield and there wasn’t enough time.
(Beat.)
It was my fault. If I leave now -

LUCILLE. Spend the rest of your life here paying for one mistake.
Makes no difference to me.

RICARDO. My sister will never be the same.

LUCILLE.
(Firm:)
She won’t even know you’re gone, Ricardo.

RICARDO. Rosie’s gone.

LUCILLE. You see anyone crying over it?

RICARDO. She said she had big plans.

LUCILLE. Looks like they backfired.

RICARDO. I don’t know what to do with it all, with what I’m feeling right now. Rosie and I used to be friends. We knew each other better than anyone. We spent so much time here, talking and dreaming and wanting everything to make sense. I don’t want her to be dead, Lucille. And I know everyone will be talking about it for weeks. But then, they’ll forget about it and they’ll find new things to talk about and Rosie will be nothing but a news clipping.
(Beat.)
I hate that.

LUCILLE. Rosie was filled with so much rage. She never knew her father. Her mother took off when she was twelve. She had a lot to be angry about. But that anger is what took her away.

RICARDO. It happened right here. Two hours ago. But it feels like so much time has passed. I don’t even want to be here. I hope Kimberly shows up soon.

LUCILLE. You might not ever figure out where you want to be, but you need to decide who you want to be with.

RICARDO. Sometimes, I just want to be alone.

LUCILLE. What about the other times? Is it him?

RICARDO. I think about him. I know he needs me. There’s no one else to protect him.

LUCILLE. But who’s going to protect you?

RICARDO. No one ever has.
(He starts towards the kitchen.)

LUCILLE. Where are you going?

RICARDO. I need to get some sugar packets. He likes ‘em.

LUCILLE. I went to the coroner’s office, Ricardo. They showed me her body and they gave me her purse. This is what I found inside of it.
(She pulls out two bus tickets from her own purse.)
Two one-way tickets to Miami.
(Beat.)
The ten-thirty to California is already gone but there’s still time to catch the midnight bus to Miami. I’ll leave these here for you. When you decide. Since Rosie didn’t make it out, I hope you do.
(Beat.)
I hope both of us do.

RICARDO. I don’t understand it, the need to go somewhere else to start a new life.

LUCILLE. For some people, it’s the answer to all their problems.

RICARDO. Geography won’t change anything.

LUCILLE. No, but fate will.

RICARDO.
(Contemplating:)
The midnight bus to Miami.

LUCILLE.
When you get there, plant some marigolds for me.

RICARDO.
And roses for Rosie?

LUCILLE.
Daffodils. They were her favorite.

RICARDO. Mine, too.
(He exits.)

(Lucille sits down at the counter and places the bus tickets next to the telephone. Once again, she returns to her hand held video game. A few moments pass and then a small flickering is seen in the main entrance, as if car lights were shining inside from the parking lot. The flickering suddenly becomes a constant strobe of light, green and intense. It is not clear if this moment is reality or we are deep inside of Lucille’s imagination. She stands slowly, invited by the light. She opens the door and steps outside, disappearing into the night.              

Lights fade to black.)

ACT TWO: SCENE TWO

(When the lights come up, the stage is empty. Twenty minutes have passed. The radio is on.)

RADIO ANNOUNCER.
Well, folks, the rain has stopped but they’ve closed the interstate. Should be open again by midnight. I’d say the worst of it is over. Then again, my mother always told me you can never be too careful. If you’re in doubt, take an umbrella with you. You never know when you might need it, what you might get caught in.

(Within seconds, a bride-to-be named CANDACE tears into the diner. She is in her late twenties and is wearing an extravagant wedding dress, complete with veil. She is attractive, sophisticated.

Behind her follows MAXINE, Candace’s seemingly devoted best friend. She is also in her late twenties and is wearing a hideous dress. She is slightly overweight.)

CANDACE. Whose stupid idea was this?

MAXINE. Actually, it was yours.
(Candace shoots her a look. Reassuring:)
But it was a good one.

CANDACE. Someone should have intervened. Where were you when I needed you, Maxine?
A midnight wedding in Omaha? Of all the people in the world, I have to marry a man from Nebraska. I’m skipping the honeymoon. Peter can go by himself.
(Aside:)
He always does it by himself, anyway.
(To Maxine:)
You and I are on the first plane back to Chicago tomorrow morning.

MAXINE. Candace, you need to calm down.

CANDACE.
(Feigning sweetness:)
Can I please have a cigarette? Pretty please?

MAXINE. You’ve been doing so
good. Why do you want to ruin it?

CANDACE.
(Close to whining:)
Because I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere. This town smells like horse shit. Does this look like a resort to you? They probably still hang people here, Maxine. I’m supposed to be getting married in an hour and the roads are closed and the limo driver called me a bitch. There isn’t a drop of rain in sight. I paid a fortune for this dress. I’m not letting my money go to waste.

MAXINE. Maybe we should call the hotel in Omaha. We should let Peter know what’s happening.

CANDACE. I can’t. I don’t have his new cell phone number.

MAXINE. That’s okay. I have it.

RICARDO.
(Enters from the kitchen. Bitter:)
Can I help you?

CANDACE. Are you normally this happy to see people?

RICARDO. I’m sorry. I thought you were Kimberly. She’s late.

CANDACE. I’m Candace.

MAXINE. Can I use your phone? It’s sort of an emergency.

CANDACE. I’m supposed to be getting married in an hour.
In Omaha. I’m a desperate woman in an expensive dress. Don’t look at me like that. No sane woman would be in her dress before her wedding. I’ve been wearing this thing for six hours. I didn’t have a choice, all right?

RICARDO. It’s kind of late for a wedding, don’t you think?

CANDACE. It was my lame ass idea. A poolside midnight ceremony with candles and cucumber sandwiches and white carnations. It was supposed to be innovative and chic. None of those little cocktail weenies. Now it sounds like the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard of.

RICARDO.
(To Maxine:)
You said you needed to make a call?

MAXINE. Thanks.
(She picks up the phone and dials:)
Peter? It’s Maxine.
(Beat.)
No. We’re stuck because of the storm. We’re in some little town. Hold on a sec’ –
(To Ricardo:)
Where exactly are we?

RICARDO. Grand Island.

MAXINE.
(Into the phone.)
Grand Island.
(Maxine’s conversation continues through the dialogue that follows; they happen simultaneously.)
I didn’t realize that.
(Beat.)
Peter, don’t say that. We had to land in Topeka because they wouldn’t let us land in Omaha. Then the limo driver took a wrong turn and got lost.
(Beat.)
I have no idea. I haven’t seen any rain since we got to this God awful place.
(Beat.)
  Peter, please don’t do that. Don’t be stupid.
(Beat.)
Look, I can’t talk about that right now. I will see what I can do, all right?
(She hangs up.)

CANDACE. Who’s Kimberly?

RICARDO. A girl who works here. I need to go.

CANDACE. Don’t
we all.
(Low whisper:)
Do you have a cigarette, by any chance?

RICARDO. I don’t smoke.

CANDACE. Yeah, neither do I. I was just curious if you did.
(Beat.)
Got any chocolate?

RICARDO. Maybe some ice cream in the back. Not sure.

CANDACE.
(Desperate:)
Find an excuse and I’ll go to the kitchen with you. Keep it on the down low.

RICARDO. You’re not allowed to have chocolate?

CANDACE. My husband-to-be put me on a strict diet.

MAXINE.
(Joining their conversation as she has just finished her phone call:)
Don’t give her any cigarettes, booze, or food with a lot of carbs in it. She’ll go on a binge.

RICARDO. What’s the point of living?

CANDACE. Exactly! You see, Maxine. Even this stranger thinks it’s absurd.
(Waits for an explanation from Maxine; exasperated:)
What did the groom say?

MAXINE. The groom said that even if they open up the roads, you’ll never make it to Omaha on time.

CANDACE.
(Anxious:)
What are you telling me?

MAXINE. You might be serving brunch at your wedding. Tomorrow morning.

CANDACE. I’m having a nervous breakdown.

MAXINE. Peter said not to worry about anything. He said to get a hotel room and wait until the storm passes.

CANDACE. What do I do about the limo driver? He’s charging me by the second.
(Low whisper; more whining, lip-quivering self-pity:)
And he hates me, Maxine.

MAXINE. I don’t know. Tell him he’s fired. He’s the one who got us lost.

CANDACE. What am I supposed to do in the morning, pull up to my wedding in a covered wagon? How did I get stuck in this place? Have you any idea how much this wedding costs? Jesus and Mary, mother of God, will someone find me a cigarette?! I am having violent impulses!

RICARDO. Then you’ll be right at home here.

CANDACE. Maxine, think of something.

MAXINE. There’s nothing we can do, Candace.

CANDACE. 
(Directed mostly at Ricardo:)
Do you know what kind of a day I’ve had? I woke up late. My cat puked all over my shoes. My roommate decided to bring a criminal home with her last night and the guy stole her virginity
(Beat.)
and
my
laptop. The landlord forgot to inform me that they were shutting off the water in my building to do some repair work. So, I had to boil bottles of Aquafina and wash my hair in the sink. A necklace my grandmother gave me fell down the drain and is probably lying at the bottom of Lake Michigan right now. I decided to try my wedding dress on to make sure all of the alterations had been done properly. I went downstairs to ask my dope-dealing neighbor for her opinion and I got locked out of my apartment. Not one single stingy person would loan me a change of clothes or a cell phone, so I took the “L” train to Maxine’s house – in my wedding dress and my cat-puke-covered-satin-pumps. Of course Maxine had nothing in my size and for once in my life, there was no time to go shopping. So I had to spend half the day looking like Glenda the Good Witch. I didn’t get a manicure so my hands look like I’ve been clawing my way out of Attica. My hair feels like Crisco because my hairdresser decided to try a new product on me and I swear to you, it smells like furniture polish. We missed the plane from Chicago and once we finally got on a plane, they rerouted us to Topeka because of some storm but I don’t see any rain, do you?! My own mother is refusing to talk to me because I wouldn’t allow my slutty sister to be in my wedding. My father has been missing for three days and we suspect he’s joined a religious cult in Arkansas. My fiancé thinks I’m a fat cow, an alcoholic, a drug addict and a chain smoker. And right now, all I want to do is be un-conscious!

RICARDO.
(After a beat:)
I can top that.

CANDACE.
(Accepting the challenge:)
Go for it.

RICARDO. My co-worker was murdered here tonight.
(Beat.)
She was stabbed to death right there. Although I never told her so, she was the only woman I would’ve married. No one seems to care she’s gone, except for me. To most people she was a cold-hearted bitch
(Beat.)
and she was. She was just as screwed up as I am and that’s why I liked her. The woman who killed her  - she was shot to death in front of the grocery store she worked in, trying to break in to return money she’d stolen. The whole thing happened over a man who is long gone and will probably never be heard from again. My sister is a vegetable, living on machines in a hospital my family can’t afford to keep her in. It’s my fault because I was driving the car and I took my eyes off of the road to tell her she was stupid and she flew, head first through the windshield. My best friend is waiting for me down at the bus station and he’s probably on the brink of suicide right now, because I was supposed to be there over a half an hour ago. I chickened out and I hate myself for it. He’s in love with me and I’m scared if I love him back, that will make me less of a man.
(Beat.)
I hope you’ll forgive me, princess…because frankly, my dear, I don’t give a fuck.
(He exits to the kitchen.)

CANDACE.
(After a beat:)
My God, Maxine, what have you gotten us into?

MAXINE. Me? What did I do?

CANDACE. You were supposed to help me with my wedding. Everything is ruined.

MAXINE. And it’s my fault?

CANDACE. Why else would I be standing at the scene of a crime? You’re always getting us into these situations. Ever since we were little. Did you hear that guy? Someone was killed here.              

MAXINE.
(Angry:)
Yeah, I heard him.

CANDACE. And that doesn’t freak you out in the least bit?

MAXINE. Normally, I would be. But after the day I’ve had.

CANDACE. You’re not the one getting married.

MAXINE.
(Hostile:)
That’s right, Candace. I’m not.

CANDACE. You know what Peter is like. He’ll blame all of this on me.

MAXINE. What are you going to do?

CANDACE. I’ll tell him the truth. I’ll tell him it was your fault. You’re the one who forgot to call me this morning and wake me up. 

MAXINE. I forgot to set my alarm.

CANDACE. Why were you up so late? I mean, the night before such an important day like this.

MAXINE. I was studying. I have finals next week.

CANDACE. When is this school thing of yours going to be over?

MAXINE. I graduate in June. Remember? I’m thinking about grad school.

CANDACE. Why bother? I’m so glad I’m getting married. I hate school.

MAXINE. Is that why you’re getting married?

CANDACE. What’s that supposed to mean?

MAXINE. You had straight A’s since the first grade. And you never even studied.

CANDACE. Teachers have always liked me, Maxine.

MAXINE. Yeah, but I’ve had to study my ass off.

CANDACE. Well, for a girl like you, education is probably the best choice.

MAXINE.
(After a beat:)
What do you mean, a girl like me?

CANDACE. You’ve never really been into guys very much.

MAXINE. Don’t you mean guys have never really been into me? Go on, Candace, say it.

CANDACE. Say what? Jesus, Maxine, I’m tired.

MAXINE. So am I. I’m tired of being your scapegoat.

CANDACE. Can we talk about this later? You need to find us a place to stay tonight.

MAXINE. Find your own place. I’m out of here.

CANDACE. Have you lost your mind?! You’re going to leave me here?

MAXINE. I don’t care if I have to hitchhike. I don’t care if I have to go down on the limo driver to bum a ride to a motel. As long as I can get away from you. Girls like me. You really are something, Candace. I bust my ass for you, day after day, year after year and you are so inconsiderate. You know something? The limo driver was right. You are a bitch. And for your information, I hate this dress.

CANDACE. I have no idea where all of this hostility is coming from, but I won’t stand for it. This is still my wedding night. You’re supposed to be my best friend and all I’m getting from you is a headache.