We Were Meant To Be.
Tom stands outside a nice looking middle class suburban house. There is a large oak tree in the front with branches and limbs that can be climbed. There are no lights on in the house. Tom climbs into the tree and waits.
Tom looks at his watch.
Tom : 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, aaand there.
A light on the second floor turns on. Tom pulls out a notebook and pen. A silhouette walks back and forth in front of the window as Tom describes.
Tom : November 30th, 9:30 PM - She enters her room. It is unseasonably warm, but muggy for November. Perhaps about fifty-six-no-seven degrees Fahrenheit. The wind is not blowing, and it's overcast. She enters her room at 9 :30 and turns on her light. I see her walk in front of the window toward the southwest corner of the house. As stated in earlier entries, I've come to the conclusion that ther bed is in that corner. My guess is that she wore a cardigan today, and took it off because it is more temperate in her house. She is taking extra time tonight, so perhaps she's taking off her shoes as well and putting on slippers. Tonight she's decided not to where her usual fluffy oversized slippers, but opted for something easier to move around it. The socks with pads on the bottom. It's a work-from-home night. She walks to the southeast of her room, where her desk is. She probably sits down, another light turns on, her desk lamp. She is using her computer to email her friends. She is emailing about how there aren't any good men left.
He pauses. He erases.
Tom : She is emailing about how she hasn't met the right person yet. Paranthesis, ME. The light turns off moments later. She walks past the window, she walks past again. The light turns off. She's gone.
He sits. He reflects. A light turns on in a smaller room. The bathroom.
Tom : Bathroom break . Out of respect, I will pause writing. Nobody needs to know what you do in the bathroom, Heather.
He pauses.
Tom : Tonight's the night. I'm going to talk to you. It may seem a little strange at first, but I think you'll understand. I've been sitting here every night for the past 15 years. Since grade school. I've watched your bed time go from 7 to 8 to 9 to 10 to.. well, sometimes you never come home. But that's ok. I know you like to sit in the southeast part of your room before you go to bed, and bathroom 10 minutes after you lay down an average three and a half nights a week. Though I've never seen you or met you, your prescence in my life has been profound. Your consistency has helped me through parents' divorce, remarriage, pop star deaths, bombings, 2 wars, several hamsters -
The light in the bathroom turns off, the bedroom comes on. He reopens journal and writes in it again.
Tom : At this time, I have to close this journal and take the leap. I am going to talk to her. Over the next hour, I will walk to her door. I will ring the doorbell. She'll answer. Hi, I'll say. Hello, she'll say. She always speaks better than I do. I'm Tom, you're...? Heather. I thought so. We've never met before, but I think we have a lot to say to each other. Oh? And then I'll come inside. We'll talk about sports and books and movies and music and our old teachers, our bad habits, our exes -
He stops. Erases. Continues writing.
Tom : - our bad habits, YOUR exes, everything. We'll want to rush into it, but I'll slow us down and remind us that we've got time. We've got our whole lives. We'll hold hands gently. When you start to yawn, you'll squeeze my hand with yours. I'll know, so I'll get up, grab your cardigan by accident because it looks so much like mine. You'll correct me, and we'll laugh. That'll be the moment where we both know that we were meant to be. I'll come over, put my hand on your shoulder and say goodnight. I'll kiss you on the cheek and we'll plan to meet for breakfast tomorrow. Uh -
He erases a bit.
Tom : I'll kiss HER on the cheek and we'll plan to meet for breakfast tomorrow.
He looks to the window.
Tom : It's time.
He checks the time and writes it down, he closes the notebook and puts it away. He climbs out of the tree. And looks around. He walks toward the front door. He kind of tip-toes, kind of sneaks to the door. He rings the doorbell and waits. It is a few seconds, the light in the upstairs turns off and the audience can see the progression of lights turning on and off through out the house to show a person walking from one room in a house to the front foor. The porchlight turns on. Tom turns around a bolts back to his tree.
Tom : Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.
The door opens, neither the audience nor Tom can see the person standing at the door. The door closes. The light progression reverses back into the room. Tom pulls out his notebook and pen, defeated.
Tom : 9:40 PM. Heather still answers the door when I ring the doorbell and run.
The bedroom light goes off.
Tom : 9:41 PM. Heather has gone to bed. I imagine she's wearing a purple nighty and dreaming of the wonderful life ahead of her.
All the lights dim and Tom is left in the dark, watching the room.
posted by adam @ 5:00 PM
