Visit the One Who's Dying: A Short Play & Thoughts on Trusting Our Stories

ACT 1
 
morning:  two femmes are sitting on the same on opposite ends of an L-shaped couch.  one is on a laptop, the other is putting on makeup.
 
l:  do you have amazon prime?  you did when you were in college, right?
L:  yes, i did.  & yes, i do.  & no, you cannot use it.
l:  i didn’t ask.
L:  but you’re gonna.
l:  who else am i gonna ask?  c’mon i need to know if this is the dress.
L:  if it is & you don’t get it?...
l:  it won’t matter.  i’ll still--
L: —don’t say it.
l:  i have to.  i want to. 
L:  not now.  not today.
l:  it’ll be ok.  you’ll be ok!
L:  just not today.
l:  fine. not today.
 

ACT 2
 
mid day:  L is putting on makeup in their room, next to a window for natural light.  their back is to the door, & to l when they walk in.
 
l:  guess what?  my dress came!
L:  i don’t care.
l:  wanna see? 
L:  i don’t care.
l:  it’s super cute!
L:  i don’t care.
l:  can i show you?
L:  i’ll see it anyways.  isn’t it, like, bad luck to see you in it before­­--
l: —i’m not getting married.  i’m--
L: — don’t.  say it.
l:  you’re gonna know everything anyways.  you’ll understand then.  hopefully.
L:  hopefully?  hopefully?  that’s all you’ve got for me?  hopefully.  i wait my whole life for me to make sense—i pray, i cry, i surrender, i write, i cast spells & conjure & tarot, & finally i leave that fucking city, i get sick, really sick, & when i start coming back to life, i find you.  My Guardian, The One Who Knows--
l: —i know.
L:  no you don’t!
l:  but i do!  i loved you as you searched & faltered & hovered near death for years.  i loved you as you healed & conjured & opened that whale-belly-to-the-bottom-of-the-ocean heart of yours.  & i loved you the whole time, hoping you would find me, but knowing when you did, it wouldn’t last.  it can’t.  i have to die so you can do all the things we were meant to do.
L:  what if i don’t want to do “all the things we were meant to do”?  it hurts!  sure, iget it, there’s been a futility to you love, but you’ve hadtime.  i don’t get time.  it’s been so nice, being able to talk with someone, another body, having another person love me, hug me, another voice, not just my voice that says, “yeah, that’s fucked up!”  & what is it i’m supposed to do?  healing feels like a lot of fucked up shit happening & just witnessing, not stopping any of it!  i don’t want this, these feelings i don’t know what to fucking do with!  fuck you.  fuck you for loving me, & fuck you for leaving me, just like everyone always does.  get out of my room.
 

ACT 3
 
night:  l is in their room, sitting, laying tarot cards out on their bed.  candles are burning.
 
L knocks on l’s door.
 
l:  go away, please.
 
L knocks again, more forcefully.

l:  fine.
L:  i can’t stop thinking of you.
l:  let it go.
L:  but i can’t.  there has to be another way.
l:  there’s not.  this is what i’m supposed to do.  i’m not scared.  i’ll miss you, but i’m not scared.
L:  how?  tell me how you’re not scared.  help me through this last thing before you…before you die.
l:  you said it.  you let it be true. 
 
they both laugh & cry at the same time.
 
L:  what helps you smile when you know you’re leaving me?
l:  i can’t see or know very far, like, they don’t let me, but your heart does.  that beautiful heart you call a whale heart.  if you ever need me, or need instructions, dive, baby.  dive as far as you dare, then dive til you bump against the ocean bottom, & i will be there.  they won’t let me say much more because i’m already holding so much, but i can tell you it’s better than what you’ve seen or imagined.  just keep breathing, keep loving, even when nothing makes sense.  & always start with you.
L:  fuck, i knew that.
 
they both laugh.
 
l:  but you needed to hear it one last time.  or, rather, i needed to tell you one last time.
L:  so tell me, how can i help you finish getting ready?
l:  wanna see my new dress?
L:  yes!  & i totally know you used my account!
l:  it’ll help you justify keeping it!
L:  lemme me see it!  i bet it looks cuter in person!
 
l leaves to put on the dress & comes back wearing it.
 
l:  i love the drama of black lace, & it was half off!
L:  shoes?
l:  bare feet.
L:  pedicure?
l:  fuck yes.
L:  color:
l:  hot pink.
L:  perfect!  i think i’ve got a bottle in my bag!  can i paint your toes?
l:  yes!  that’s exactly what i need.
 
L rummages around in their bag, but it’s so full of stuff they can’t find it immediately.
 
L:  i have so much shit in here, hold on a sec…
 
L dumps everything out onto a table with their back turned to l.
 
l:  you’re so sweet.  i love you.
L:  i love you, too. 
 
L turns around with the polish in hand & realizes l is gone.  A breeze moves through the room, & the candles & lights go out at the same time.

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trusting this story to be enough was a process.  i know that i am a only a vessel, & that most often my only job is to tell the story as it comes through, but it is still so hard to trust it.  i want to make sure every story that comes through me is not only the best, but perfect.  & this is where i can become stuck.

at the tender age of 32, i am still trying to undue the writing fuckery i've survived in a variety of writing environments, laying to rest all the ways i've been misunderstood & all the unhelpful but supposed to be helpful comments from people who will never know me.  i do this by telling myself that these stories want & need to be told, that they chose me as their conduit because i have the specific skill set required for such a task.  & as much as i want my stories to always be held, always be loved, always be cherished, i have no actual control over any of this.  but, what i can do, & what i must do, is trust that these stories are enough, that some canonical version of perfection is not required, & that we, my stories & i, get to take up space in this world.

it is with this understanding that grants me peace in saying that i will not tell you what this story is supposed to be about (at least for now), because i want it to live inside of you in the ways it calls to you.  your relationship to this story is between you & this story, & for me to come in & pretend like i can know anything about that is false.
what i will tell you is that this story is about whatever it is to be for you, that your connection to it is real.  if it has found you, you were both calling for each other, & the femmeiverse loves us all.  

my deepest hope is this story will continue to loved & cherished & bring life, long after i've sent it into the world.   

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Originally published at www.lettielaughter.com on November 6, 2015.