Typical disclaimer applies. I'm not good enough at anything for anyone to
pay me for it. Except maybe four-day prepared monologues - but that's still
a mystery to me.
I love feedback - thoughts regarding the story and the writing. Pretty please with sugar on it?!!! Thanks!
Everything before the spoken word "Wait" is dialogue taken exactly from the production. The descriptions up until that point are my observations of the surrounding scene. From that point on, it is all mine (except for the characters, of course, and their history!)
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She stands outside his apartment staring at the door, Mic's stone-cold glare refusing to vacate her mind's eye and Harm's susurrant words "I'm waiting" continuing to echo in her head. She composes herself, wiping her face and brushing the rain from her shoulders. With confidence and deliberateness that she does not feel, she knocks. Her hands she clasps nervously in front of her. After a brief moment, he appears there. He speaks immediately, hushed, catching her off guard.
"Mac, Renee's father died. Suddenly. Heart failure. She just got here. We can't do this now. I told her I'd fly back with her. I should be gone a couple of days. I'm sorry." How he hates every word coming out of his mouth. He wants nothing more that to usher Renee out and lock Mac and himself in his loft until they figure this *thing* out. This is what he gets for being dishonest with himself . . . committed to someone he does not love and turning away his best friend - the one who holds the true allegiance of his heart.
She glowers at him, almost incredulously, dread forming in her stomach and it's lead weight quickly spreading to her eyes, her face, her fingertips and knees. She pivots her head to see Renee sleeping on his couch. "No, you have to go," she answers in a like hushed tone, void of emotion. Although, she knows that he needs to go with Renee, she cannot help but feel betrayed. This is her time; she needs him now!
"I'll call you when we land," he attempts with misplaced effort - desperate for her to know that he is here for her, despising himself that he really cannot be.
She fidgets with her cover. "Don't do that to her. She needs you. Give her your full attention." Never more than now had she hated acting honorably.
"What about you?" He asks, nothing but concern on his face and maybe a hint of regret. He wants to level with her, come clean about how he wishes that he were not dutifully bound to Renee. But, he knows that it would not do any good; the damage is done. A lot of damage. To both of them.
"I'll be okay." Yeah, that's it, Mac, put up the tough Marine defenses. At least he asked. "When you get back . . . " But, not knowing how to complete her thought, she resigns herself. He turns for a moment to look back at Renee who has not moved. She nods her head, giving him permission to go to Renee. The corners of her mouth twitch in an attempt to smile but it will not form. She is tough; she can take it, but damn it, she should not have to. He looks as though he has something else to say - this is a look she does not see very often but with it she is all too familiar. And she feels the same - she has a sudden and almost over-whelming urge to cry out in grief and frustration. However, rationally, she supposes there is not anything appropriate to say. She wants to reach out to him, to touch him, maybe to smooth away the still-healing gash over his left eye, anything to be close. But, due to the incapacitating dread invading her body, she instead shifts her weight to her heals, attempting to muster the energy to tear her eyes away from him and be alone again. She is terrified.
He looks at her, studies her face - the pain in her eyes; the smoothness and dampness of her skin; the tense muscles around her mouth and forehead. He senses her physical tumult - the unstillness of her body surely paralleling the turmoil inside. He feels helpless, powerless, and downright icky. This vile situation coats his insides with slime, oozing and utterly paralyzing him. Seeing her shift her weight away from him, he tilts his head ruefully, agonizing contrition scrawled across his face, and moves to close the door. In turn, she drops her hands to her sides in defeat, turning away.
"Wait." Her heart leaps into her throat at his auspicious command. Stepping into the hallway, he leans his cane against the wall and carefully closes the door behind him.
He looks intently into her pain-filled eyes and draws a deep breath, calming himself and assembling his thoughts. There must be something to say here. Something *needs* to be said. He had been so ready to talk to her, *really* talk to her, just twenty minutes ago. Damn it all to Hell!!! Standing here, all but frozen by the slime of fearful possibilities, he forces out his uppermost thought. "I know I should have said this weeks ago, huh, or a year ago . . ." Another brief pause to gather strength - why should looking into her eyes be so harrowing?! "Mac, I don't want you to marry Brumby." It comes out like a confession, an admitted sin, something of which he should be ashamed. Perhaps it is shame that he feels - shame for hiding, for his long-standing lie of omission, for knowing that he could have prevented her all of this pain. Her face betrays weary disbelief at his averment and this expression of mistrust stabs him in the gut. The disgusting ooze drips from the wound. "I hate that I'm feeling what I'm feeling. I'm so glad he's gone but I can't stand to see you hurt." His voice spills in a mixture of relief and helplessness, his brow confirming.
"He's gone. And you don't want me to hurt," with contempt she sums. She continues with added conviction, "You're glad to see him gone because now you're not afraid you'll lose me. But, you're not any closer to having me, Harm. Renee's waiting for you." In response to his typical say-barely- enough-to-get-by routine, a quiet disgust sneaks into these words. She knows that they sting but she wants him to feel her pain. She turns to leave.
"Mac!" He exclaims in an intense whisper. Ah, he finally said it and she threw it back in his face. Maybe a shower would be the better way to get rid of the slime. But, writhing in his skin, pleading with emotion, he tries again. "Please . . ."
She glances over her shoulder and espies the unhidden desperation in his eyes. It tugs on the curtain of her iron will. She wants to tell him - tell him everything - what Mic said; how he is right and how he is wrong; how much she loves this man standing in front of her; and how much she despises him for pushing her away countless times. And, even now, when he is trying to draw her near, past rejections haunt her. Is she even capable of being close to him any more?
He tries frantically to categorize his thoughts - what is the best course of action here. Fortunately, he finds the simple answer - now is not the time for an aberration. He has a grieving girlfriend inside and Mac's fiancé has just left her. They're friends through everything, and that is what she needs from him right now. He turns on the gentle compassion and opens his arms; she moves to them quickly after only a brief hesitation. Resting her temple on his shoulder and her forehead against his chin, she resumes her crying almost immediately and the protective embrace of his arms and chest comfortingly warm her.
She cries. She cries because of her loneliness. She cries for having deceived herself as well as Mic. She cries for having taken advantage of him. She cries for not loving him the awesome way he loves her. She cries for being stuck out in Harm's hallway. She cries for all their missed opportunities and tragic timing. And she cries because she is in his arms now, but she knows it cannot last.
With her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, gripping for dear life, he is close to tears himself and his chest aches. Every one of her quiet sobs causes him to flinch, reminding him of his helplessness. How can he wipe away her tears, and this tension, and their fear? He does not want to let her go - ever - especially not to hold Renee in her place. Goodness, how did they ever let these relationships get so out of hand?
For these few moments, their relationship is all but perfect. She hurts. He hurts because of her pain. She trusts and he comforts. And no one and nothing stands between them - almost. The mendacity hovers around them.
Their reprieve is shattered when a noise is heard from behind the door. She loosens her hold and raises her head shooting a look of quiet terror into his eyes. Not fully understanding her fear, he smiles apologetically down at her and pulls her back in for another quick embrace, simply not wanting to let her go.
She finally steps back, regrettably, out of his reassuring hold, wiping the tears from her face. "I have to figure some things out, Harm. You'll be back in a couple days?" She felt like a child asking when Daddy was coming home - sniffling, so sad and needy. But, she knows - she needs him.
"Yeah. But, I'm sure I can break away for a little bit at some point. I'll call you," he offers in earnest.
"No, I need this time." She wearily nods her head, her eyes red and swollen. "See me when you get back?"
He gives her hand a light supportive squeeze. "You couldn't stop me if you tried," he answers with a small, yet genuine smile. Soon will not be soon enough.
With the aid of his cane, he hails the elevator for her. She steps in and turns around to face him. "Take care," he offers, pointedly, his arm continuing to hold open the door - desperate for just another moment with her.
"Thanks, Harm." Sullenly she answers, her face drawn and weathered.
Watching her disappear behind the heavy door of the elevator, he takes a moment and composes himself. Most of the slime dripped away. Most. That hug was definitely better than a shower. Limping across the hall and tucking away the thoughts and emotions that belong only to Mac, he takes another deep breath and opens the door to his loft.
I love feedback - thoughts regarding the story and the writing. Pretty please with sugar on it?!!! Thanks!
Everything before the spoken word "Wait" is dialogue taken exactly from the production. The descriptions up until that point are my observations of the surrounding scene. From that point on, it is all mine (except for the characters, of course, and their history!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She stands outside his apartment staring at the door, Mic's stone-cold glare refusing to vacate her mind's eye and Harm's susurrant words "I'm waiting" continuing to echo in her head. She composes herself, wiping her face and brushing the rain from her shoulders. With confidence and deliberateness that she does not feel, she knocks. Her hands she clasps nervously in front of her. After a brief moment, he appears there. He speaks immediately, hushed, catching her off guard.
"Mac, Renee's father died. Suddenly. Heart failure. She just got here. We can't do this now. I told her I'd fly back with her. I should be gone a couple of days. I'm sorry." How he hates every word coming out of his mouth. He wants nothing more that to usher Renee out and lock Mac and himself in his loft until they figure this *thing* out. This is what he gets for being dishonest with himself . . . committed to someone he does not love and turning away his best friend - the one who holds the true allegiance of his heart.
She glowers at him, almost incredulously, dread forming in her stomach and it's lead weight quickly spreading to her eyes, her face, her fingertips and knees. She pivots her head to see Renee sleeping on his couch. "No, you have to go," she answers in a like hushed tone, void of emotion. Although, she knows that he needs to go with Renee, she cannot help but feel betrayed. This is her time; she needs him now!
"I'll call you when we land," he attempts with misplaced effort - desperate for her to know that he is here for her, despising himself that he really cannot be.
She fidgets with her cover. "Don't do that to her. She needs you. Give her your full attention." Never more than now had she hated acting honorably.
"What about you?" He asks, nothing but concern on his face and maybe a hint of regret. He wants to level with her, come clean about how he wishes that he were not dutifully bound to Renee. But, he knows that it would not do any good; the damage is done. A lot of damage. To both of them.
"I'll be okay." Yeah, that's it, Mac, put up the tough Marine defenses. At least he asked. "When you get back . . . " But, not knowing how to complete her thought, she resigns herself. He turns for a moment to look back at Renee who has not moved. She nods her head, giving him permission to go to Renee. The corners of her mouth twitch in an attempt to smile but it will not form. She is tough; she can take it, but damn it, she should not have to. He looks as though he has something else to say - this is a look she does not see very often but with it she is all too familiar. And she feels the same - she has a sudden and almost over-whelming urge to cry out in grief and frustration. However, rationally, she supposes there is not anything appropriate to say. She wants to reach out to him, to touch him, maybe to smooth away the still-healing gash over his left eye, anything to be close. But, due to the incapacitating dread invading her body, she instead shifts her weight to her heals, attempting to muster the energy to tear her eyes away from him and be alone again. She is terrified.
He looks at her, studies her face - the pain in her eyes; the smoothness and dampness of her skin; the tense muscles around her mouth and forehead. He senses her physical tumult - the unstillness of her body surely paralleling the turmoil inside. He feels helpless, powerless, and downright icky. This vile situation coats his insides with slime, oozing and utterly paralyzing him. Seeing her shift her weight away from him, he tilts his head ruefully, agonizing contrition scrawled across his face, and moves to close the door. In turn, she drops her hands to her sides in defeat, turning away.
"Wait." Her heart leaps into her throat at his auspicious command. Stepping into the hallway, he leans his cane against the wall and carefully closes the door behind him.
He looks intently into her pain-filled eyes and draws a deep breath, calming himself and assembling his thoughts. There must be something to say here. Something *needs* to be said. He had been so ready to talk to her, *really* talk to her, just twenty minutes ago. Damn it all to Hell!!! Standing here, all but frozen by the slime of fearful possibilities, he forces out his uppermost thought. "I know I should have said this weeks ago, huh, or a year ago . . ." Another brief pause to gather strength - why should looking into her eyes be so harrowing?! "Mac, I don't want you to marry Brumby." It comes out like a confession, an admitted sin, something of which he should be ashamed. Perhaps it is shame that he feels - shame for hiding, for his long-standing lie of omission, for knowing that he could have prevented her all of this pain. Her face betrays weary disbelief at his averment and this expression of mistrust stabs him in the gut. The disgusting ooze drips from the wound. "I hate that I'm feeling what I'm feeling. I'm so glad he's gone but I can't stand to see you hurt." His voice spills in a mixture of relief and helplessness, his brow confirming.
"He's gone. And you don't want me to hurt," with contempt she sums. She continues with added conviction, "You're glad to see him gone because now you're not afraid you'll lose me. But, you're not any closer to having me, Harm. Renee's waiting for you." In response to his typical say-barely- enough-to-get-by routine, a quiet disgust sneaks into these words. She knows that they sting but she wants him to feel her pain. She turns to leave.
"Mac!" He exclaims in an intense whisper. Ah, he finally said it and she threw it back in his face. Maybe a shower would be the better way to get rid of the slime. But, writhing in his skin, pleading with emotion, he tries again. "Please . . ."
She glances over her shoulder and espies the unhidden desperation in his eyes. It tugs on the curtain of her iron will. She wants to tell him - tell him everything - what Mic said; how he is right and how he is wrong; how much she loves this man standing in front of her; and how much she despises him for pushing her away countless times. And, even now, when he is trying to draw her near, past rejections haunt her. Is she even capable of being close to him any more?
He tries frantically to categorize his thoughts - what is the best course of action here. Fortunately, he finds the simple answer - now is not the time for an aberration. He has a grieving girlfriend inside and Mac's fiancé has just left her. They're friends through everything, and that is what she needs from him right now. He turns on the gentle compassion and opens his arms; she moves to them quickly after only a brief hesitation. Resting her temple on his shoulder and her forehead against his chin, she resumes her crying almost immediately and the protective embrace of his arms and chest comfortingly warm her.
She cries. She cries because of her loneliness. She cries for having deceived herself as well as Mic. She cries for having taken advantage of him. She cries for not loving him the awesome way he loves her. She cries for being stuck out in Harm's hallway. She cries for all their missed opportunities and tragic timing. And she cries because she is in his arms now, but she knows it cannot last.
With her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, gripping for dear life, he is close to tears himself and his chest aches. Every one of her quiet sobs causes him to flinch, reminding him of his helplessness. How can he wipe away her tears, and this tension, and their fear? He does not want to let her go - ever - especially not to hold Renee in her place. Goodness, how did they ever let these relationships get so out of hand?
For these few moments, their relationship is all but perfect. She hurts. He hurts because of her pain. She trusts and he comforts. And no one and nothing stands between them - almost. The mendacity hovers around them.
Their reprieve is shattered when a noise is heard from behind the door. She loosens her hold and raises her head shooting a look of quiet terror into his eyes. Not fully understanding her fear, he smiles apologetically down at her and pulls her back in for another quick embrace, simply not wanting to let her go.
She finally steps back, regrettably, out of his reassuring hold, wiping the tears from her face. "I have to figure some things out, Harm. You'll be back in a couple days?" She felt like a child asking when Daddy was coming home - sniffling, so sad and needy. But, she knows - she needs him.
"Yeah. But, I'm sure I can break away for a little bit at some point. I'll call you," he offers in earnest.
"No, I need this time." She wearily nods her head, her eyes red and swollen. "See me when you get back?"
He gives her hand a light supportive squeeze. "You couldn't stop me if you tried," he answers with a small, yet genuine smile. Soon will not be soon enough.
With the aid of his cane, he hails the elevator for her. She steps in and turns around to face him. "Take care," he offers, pointedly, his arm continuing to hold open the door - desperate for just another moment with her.
"Thanks, Harm." Sullenly she answers, her face drawn and weathered.
Watching her disappear behind the heavy door of the elevator, he takes a moment and composes himself. Most of the slime dripped away. Most. That hug was definitely better than a shower. Limping across the hall and tucking away the thoughts and emotions that belong only to Mac, he takes another deep breath and opens the door to his loft.