David-Matthew Barnes - Better Places to Go

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.)

(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!