Raincheck | micro-play of our love lost, in the voices of Joan and Roger

flash 
[An abandoned hospital room -- frayed plastic flooring, dirty linen. The obligatory drip drip drip of the IV feed, the EKG keeping time. In the bed: I. On the TV, COVID-19 through 26 -- the news, always.]
[It is now generally understood that the Earth is evil.]
[Enter U.]

I: Aha! The kiss of death.

U: You wish. I’m only here as a courtesy.

I: No last rites then. Can I offer you anything?

U: No heaven for the lukewarm. You know what John says.

I: No second chances — that’s the only Revelation I worry about.

U: Is that what you would have wanted? 

I: Yeah, and for Grandfather Clock over here to take it easy one of these days. What’s with the rush?

U: [smiles] Time always runs out, for everyone. Runs over everyone, too. But you knew that.

I: So what should I have done? Risk a whole life for a pat on the back and a midlife crisis? Please. I got tied up in my own Bildungsroman. Shut the door on Lady Luck and ate my morals for dinner. 

U: Are you done?

I: There was love, I’m telling you. Lots of it. [looks out the window] We weren’t as heedless as they’ll say. We kept at what we knew because we had made a home for ourselves, and we loved it. We knew the future would get us eventually. In a way, we were living in the moment. Isn’t that what it’s all about?

U: You can hardly call it denial.

[In case you’re wondering, COVID-20 came into existence just as quarantine goods accumulation at city-sized Chinese landfills outpaced low-Carbon recyclable factories propped up by the Nordic model. Coincidence?]
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[Note for the director: an eye opens on the back of every seat facing an audience member. ∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅
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The eye searches around, makes contact, lingers a moment -- then shuts forever.] ∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅∅

U: You rejected me more than I rejected you, you know.

I: Come on. Let me get us tickets for something.

U: There are no tickets left for anything. So, last rites. You gambled someone else’s life so you didn’t have to gamble yours. How do you make peace with yourself?

I: You come for the love, stay for the vision — Coriolanus? Sweat out the commitment-phobe in you, take the high road somewhere. You get there and scratch your head. [pauses] I’m sorry.

U: For whom?

I: Her, mostly… But also me, I guess — I know, I know, if we only had a penny. But if I had seen if you can give me a small happy sooner, she might have gotten a big happy eventually. I never wanted to accept you have to save yourself first.

U: [smiles, makes for the door] Not everything makes sense. Love isn’t salvation, though.

I: [smiles] Now you tell me. Hey. You just got here.

U: What does Coriolanus say?

I: References, references. “There is a world elsewhere.” ⏮

U: I’ll see you there, then.

I: I’ll read you so many poems.

[Exit U. Lights out. EKG accelerating.]
[Silence.]












































































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