Sam holds his breath. From the time Sam had first arrived at Westminster, he had been hoping his father would wake up. For decades he dreamed of talking with him, establishing a relationship. Now Sam feels the prickle of apprehension.
HENRY STEELE: That dark side he talked about . . . (nodding at Edgar) . . . I know all about that. I got deeper into debt and deeper into drink. It numbed me, but it also made me do things that I didn’t want to do. I beat her and I beat those boys, my first two, Henry Jr. and Frank. They ran away. Broke her heart. I don’t know what ever happened to them, whether they died young or lived long lives. They aren’t buried here. (Henry looks back at his own grave and then at the church.) Every Sunday she went to this church and pretended that we were a good family and everything was fine. I didn’t go. Somehow she must have scraped together money for our tombstones. It was important to her what people were to think about us. (He looks back at Sam’s grave.) Sam came along. Spitting image of his brother Frank. Spitting image of me at that age. But he wasn’t anything like me. Sam was like her. Smart as a whip, right from the start. She put everything into him. He started talking whole sentences practically before walking. He could do sums at the age of three, and he could read, too. So smart he kind of scared me. (Henry’s voice becomes thick.) When I had a drink in me, he couldn’t do anything right.
A queasy feeling takes hold of Sam’s stomach.
HENRY STEELE: One night, Sam was scared to go to bed, and I wanted him to shut up, so I took him out back with a leather strap. He was like a little fawn, he was so small. Gertrude begged me to stop and I hit her harder than I ever had and told her to shut up.
An anguished sob breaks through Henry’s tight throat. Sam starts to shake. Whatever irritation Lacy had toward Sam is overtaken by sympathy. She wants only to go to him, but she doesn’t dare interrupt.
HENRY STEELE: I was going to kill him. She could tell. So she did what she had to do. As soon as I felt the blow on the back of my head, I knew. She has carried that secret . . . I know she is afraid that she will be judged, in the end, as a murderer, and so she has been trying hard to hide it, to make up for it by following the rules. (He looks down.) I know none of you likes her. I know you have reason. But . . . she . . . she has been trying to do the best she can. (He looks out, baffled.) As for me . . . I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t know why I’m here.
The crowd is silent.
To take down the scaffolding of a life that you thought was nailed into shape and replace it with new material is a herculean wrestle. Lacy and the residents begin the struggle to understand the woman they have thought of as their nemesis.
Sam tries, too, and for him it is the hardest. His father’s confession makes him hate him, but he also admires his courage in finally coming forward, and those two opposing forces are colliding within his soul. He longs to rise and shout at his father, let him feel the raging whirlwind of emotions that he set in motion. But Sam does not move, and he hates himself for standing still.
Just when it seems the evening could not possibly grow more complex, Raven suddenly opens his wings and caws with alarm. He flies from his spot near the stage back up to his usual perch on the top of Poe’s monument. Everyone freezes. There is a sound at the front of the cemetery. All turn to look. Olivia opens the gate.
Scene 8: Olivia
Olivia enters.
The Dead are caught off guard, still reeling from the emotional outpouring, and now a living, breathing person has entered their domain. For the first few seconds they are silent, frozen, as Olivia walks toward them.
Lacy and Sarah and Sam know who she is. The others can see by Lacy’s face that something important is about to happen.
Olivia has a bottle in her left hand—not even bothering to hide it—and her right hand is wrapped in a makeshift bandage. She’s drunker than she’s ever been and has begun to shiver. Half an hour ago she took a second painkiller too close to the first and washed it down with vodka that she sweet-talked an old man into buying for her. She has lost her coat—or rather Zane’s—and can’t recall the circumstances. The jeans and sweater she’s wearing aren’t warm enough.
As she walks among them, the Dead look at her and then at one another, not knowing what to do. Sarah quickly takes action. She moves through the crowd, whispering that Lacy will need time with her sister, that everyone should go back to their graves for the moment.
Lacy remains transfixed as the crowd disperses. The core group—Sam, Sarah, Billy, Peter, Owen, Maria, the Spindly sisters, and Virginia—are too anxious about Lacy’s well-being to leave her completely alone. They step back and stand still, not wanting to interfere, but wanting to support her. The two Suppressed souls in our group—Edgar and Clarissa—instinctively hide near their own graves, ready to dive under if Mrs. Steele should return.
Olivia faces Poe’s monument and takes another drink. She glances up at Raven and then lifts her bottle to him. Lacy winces. The sight of the alcohol after hearing Henry Steele’s confession is hard to bear. Lacy isn’t prepared for this. It isn’t fair for Olivia to be able to wander in whenever she wants.
Olivia’s cell phone buzzes. She pulls it out and drops it into an empty flower urn with a laugh. Suddenly dizzy, she sits on Lacy’s bench and closes her eyes. Lacy walks toward her sister.
LACY: Go home, Liv.
Olivia sets the bottle on the ground by her feet and begins rocking back and forth, rubbing her right arm with her good hand to warm it up. She has been holding her right hand up to stop the bleeding and her fingers have all gone numb.
OLIVIA: I wish we were little kids again, Lace.
LACY: You look terrible, Liv. Stop drinking. It’s late. Go home.
Olivia tries to flex the muscles of her cold right hand but stops because it hurts.
OLIVIA: I slammed my fist into a mirror tonight because I couldn’t stand the look of my own fucking face. (A bitter laugh.) Seriously. (A long pause.) I got fired tonight. Rob texted me. I don’t blame him. I would fire me if I were him. I was supposed to show up tonight and I didn’t. He said I probably needed time to get my head together and that maybe work wasn’t a good idea. He was trying to be nice, but I got so pissed. I mean, really angry. I kept having this weird fantasy of smashing his face in mud. (She shakes her head.) I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I swear if he had told me he was giving me a raise I would have felt angry too.
Olivia takes another drink. Lacy tries to pull the bottle away although she knows she can’t.
LACY: You’re already drunk, Liv. Stop it.
OLIVIA: It’s like Zane. No matter what Zane does, I get mad. I don’t know if it’s possible for one person to be this angry without something happening internally. I mean, I feel like my brain or my liver or my spleen or whatever the fuck is inside me is going to explode. I walk down the street and I have this fantasy of things exploding. The more he tries to help, the more he pisses me off. I’m even mad at you. Isn’t that fucking ridiculous? I’m pissed at Mom, too, for going out that night, which is really fucked up because she deserves to have a life, and now she doesn’t.
Olivia’s words trigger a memory for Lacy. Once again, she is pulled back into a swirl of images from the night she died.
LACY: Don’t say that. It’s not Mom’s fault, Liv. I remember. She told us about her date and we helped her get ready and told her to have fun. (Lacy can see her mom’s scared but excited face.) I was afraid that if I had brought up the fact that I wanted to go out that night, she wouldn’t have gone. So I didn’t say anything until she had already left. Then I texted her and said that I was going out, but I lied. I didn’t tell her that I wanted to go to the open mic. I told her that I had forgotten that I had a special chorus rehearsal. I thought she’d be so focused on her date that she wouldn’t even answer and that I could just go. But she texted you. (Another image floats in . . . the basement stairs.) I’m remembering more. Diana and Zane and you and David were in the basement. And then you came up and yelled at me because Mom
’s text said you had to drive me to the school rehearsal and you didn’t want to. We got in this huge fight . . . remember? We were standing in the kitchen.
OLIVIA: I read your poetry journal yesterday when I came home. God, Lace. Every inch of space in that notebook is covered with words . . . I mean, I knew you were into poetry. I just didn’t want to take you seriously. That night in the kitchen, that night when I got that text from Mom to drive you—
Lacy is excited that Olivia is finally talking about that night. The memory comes . . . how Olivia looked that night, in the kitchen. She was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans.
LACY: Yes! We were in the kitchen!
OLIVIA: I was pissed at Mom for telling me to give you a ride to school, and I was pissed at you for needing a ride. You were standing there holding that poetry journal and you said to stop yelling because you were going to walk. Then you said I was too drunk anyway, and I got mad and pulled your arm and you dropped your journal and that flyer came out about the open mic at Tenuto’s. I saw the date on it and it hit me that there was no school rehearsal. You wanted to go to the open mic. You had lied to Mom and you were lying to me.
A full memory comes to Lacy in a flash.
LACY: You were standing with your back to the sink. The light seemed so white. Really harsh. You picked up the flyer, and you asked me if that’s where I was going, and I said yes. You were so mad, and I didn’t understand why. I mean, I told you that you didn’t have to drive me. I wanted to walk. You wouldn’t let it go. You called me a liar and asked me why I didn’t tell you about the open mic. For a second it looked like you were going to cry.
OLIVIA: When I saw that flyer it hit me that your poetry was probably really good, and that the whole evening at Tenuto’s would be intense and amazing. We were standing there in the kitchen, and you had this expression on your face. You looked really sincere and really little to me, like the way you did when you were, like, seven. I had this moment where I could have been proud of you, but then this little flicker of hate ran through me, and I thought, “You think you’re better than me. You’re writing poetry, and I’m getting drunk with my friends. Well, fuck you.” I asked you why you didn’t tell me about it, and you gave me this look like I was an idiot for asking. You said, “You’d just ridicule me, Liv. Why would I tell you anything?” And so what do I do? I walk over to the basement door and yell down to my friends. I say, “My little sister wants to go to an open mic because she thinks she’s got talent.” Diana’s laugh floated up from the basement. I hated myself, even as it was coming out of my mouth.
Lacy is silent. Olivia takes another drink.
OLIVIA: I did stuff like that to you all the time, Lacy. I was jealous. You were doing something positive. You were putting yourself out there. God . . . an open mic. You had guts.
LACY: I remember Diana’s laugh. I got furious. I grabbed the flyer out of your hand and I told you that I was leaving and that I was going to text Mom to let her know that you were too drunk to drive me. Then you slapped me. I couldn’t believe it. Right across the face. I can still feel the sting. (Lacy puts her hand to her cheek.) We both got quiet for a second. Then I turned and walked out. The last words I heard from you were, “Fuck you.”
Olivia stands up, stumbles, and leans against a crypt for balance.
OLIVIA: Oh God. I’m going to be sick.
Now the memories are streaming into Lacy’s mind. She looks off into the distance and recounts how the evening unfolded.
LACY: I remember everything . . . I wanted to walk. It felt good to be out in the air. It had rained and the streets were wet. I was nervous, but excited. All the way there, I went over and over the poem in my head and I kept checking my cell phone to make sure I wasn’t going to be late. I had to wait at the intersection right across from Tenuto’s. I was almost there. The door of the café was open and the light was pouring out. Voices were pouring out, too. I could hear people in Tenuto’s all the way across the street, and I started to panic a little, realizing it was probably packed. I was waiting for the Walk sign and rehearsing the poem in my mind. And then I looked up and saw it with perfect clarity. The light was turning red and a blue pick-up truck gunned into the intersection just as a black car turned from the left. The black car didn’t have its lights on for some reason. I noticed that. It all happened so fast, but I was noticing so much.
Olivia’s eyes are closed. She is gripping her stomach. Lacy continues, almost in a trance.
LACY: The truck hit the car and, at first, I just thought about the guy in the car, because I could see him, and then the car spun and started rushing toward me. At first I had this false sense of security because I wasn’t standing in the street, you know, I was standing on the sidewalk, pretty far from the curb. But then the car jumped the curb, and in that second before impact, I knew I was going to die. It was so strange. I could picture my body, so fragile. Against the coming force of all that metal I might as well have been made of sticks and paper, I thought. I was panicking but I was also calm and all these thoughts came to me. Really complicated thoughts. It must have only been a few seconds, but I was able to think. I thought about how the drivers of both the car and the truck were going too fast, and I thought about how sad it was that I was going to die this way because speeding through intersections was Mom’s pet peeve. (She looks at Olivia.) Remember? Mom would slam her hands on the wheel if she saw someone run a red, and say, “Go ahead. Put everybody else in danger so you can get wherever you’re going thirty seconds faster.” And then she’d turn to us and say, “Girls, don’t be like that.”
Lacy continues, pacing. Sam’s eyes are filling with tears. He is listening intently, sympathetically.
LACY: I’m remembering everything. It was like time stopped and all these thoughts were going through my head. While the car was spinning toward me, I was also thinking about the fact that if I hadn’t waited on the sidewalk for the Walk sign, if I’d run across the street on the Don’t Walk when I’d first arrived at the intersection, I’d be safe. The injustice of that struck me. We follow the rules, I thought, and we expect everyone else to do the same, and yet I’m going to die and the drivers who are breaking the rules will climb out of this alive.
The cold has gripped Olivia and she shivers. Lacy looks at her.
LACY: And at the same time, I was thinking about you, Liv. I was thinking about how screwed up it was that you were supposed to drive me to keep me safe, but how that wouldn’t have been safe because you were drunk, and how ironic it was that I was going to end up dead anyway.
Sadness emanates from Lacy and the power of it causes the same hum to resonate from the Dead around her.
Olivia feels something in the air and drops her bottle. When she bends to pick it up, dizziness sets in. She tries to sit down and falls to the ground. The complexity of what she is carrying feels like a weight in her chest. She looks back at the ground where she and her mother buried Lacy’s ashes and begins to cry.
Lacy watches her, trying to make sense of it all.
OLIVIA: You didn’t tell on me, Lacy. I thought for sure you did. I thought you followed through with your threat and texted Mom about me being drunk and so I was just waiting for the ax to drop. And then my phone buzzed. It was Mom calling. It was—I don’t know—maybe an hour and a half after you had left. I didn’t answer. She called three more times and I didn’t answer. I thought I was in trouble and I couldn’t face it. And then the text came: “I’ll be home in 15 minutes. Where are you?” I read it and I thought, Oh fuck. I made Zane and Diana and David leave. I made myself throw up and then I cleaned up the basement and drank a couple of glasses of water and ate a peanut butter sandwich and sat down at the dining room table with my homework, thinking I could bullshit my way out of it. Mom walked in the door and I was ready to deny the whole drunk thing, and then she sat down and started sobbing. Sobbing. It was terrifying. I didn’t know what was going on. Her eyes were so wild. She finally managed to tell me that you had been killed, and it felt co
mpletely unreal. I was trying to understand it and then she told me that it happened on Crimmson Street. She said she didn’t understand what you were doing there. She looked right at me with her red eyes and said, “You drove her to school, right?” In that moment, I realized that you hadn’t told her anything about me, and I felt this incredible relief because all I could think about was that I didn’t want the blame. You’re dead because of me and all I’m thinking about is how I won’t be able to handle it if Mom is mad at me. (Olivia drops her head and weeps.) So I lied, Lacy. I told her that I drove you to school and dropped you off and that I had no idea how or why you went someplace else instead. You know how fucked up that is?
Something shifts in Olivia. In an angry burst, she stands and hurls her bottle against the church wall and screams. The intensity of it pulls her off balance. The world spins and she passes out, crumpling to the ground. Lacy rushes to her.
LACY: Liv!
Lacy’s voice is too loud. It is late and she is too close to the catacomb entrance. Everyone but Lacy is aware of the danger.
Sam wants to pull her away, but Billy runs to her.
BILLY: Lacy—shh!
Lacy pushes him aside.
LACY: Get up, Liv! Get up!
The catacomb entrance opens. Everyone freezes. The two Suppressed souls who are still out—Edgar and Clarissa—only have time to duck behind tombstones for cover. Mrs. Steele hustles out, Dr. Hosler trailing after her.