3x07 - (ruby slippers)

ANGIE

You sent me questions, so I’ll answer them. I don’t know why all of you are so confused, or what’s really going on, but—

Yes, I’m Angie. Let’s get that one down first, just so you’re all sure, I’m—I’m—I’m aware of the apocalypse, because it’s—it’s all over the news! I saw it in, uh. Cambridge. Where I live during the school year. So I’ve thought, I suppose, because Teresa claims we’ve lived together since January, which—

(sigh, confused)

I don’t know what’s going on anymore.

You keep acting like I should know what’s going on, but I don’t! I just—I don’t know what’s—

Charlotte’s girlfriend says that it’s something’s influence, that it’s just—it’s a matter of broken will, which—did I get replaced in the DnD campaign?

That’s a joke. I just—I don’t get it. But I—look, listen, how do I—

Everything feels foggy. I know that—look, I know that something’s wrong. Nothing is processing right now, and, listen, I don’t like that any more than any of you do, and that’s—that’s okay. That’s—perfectly fine, and, look, all I know is that I’m home now.

Isn’t that what matters, in the end, that I’m home? That I’m here with you, even if—even if everything feels wrong on all sides? Unbalanced and gross, and—

I wish that one of you would just talk to me.

Charlotte asked me in a text, what do you remember about New Year’s, and my answer is—not much. I was drunk, I didn’t want to pack up my suitcases for the train back to Boston, and—I don’t remember much at all. I remember that Benji’s fireworks didn’t work. I remember that Robin and Elaine dropped by. I remember—I got a cut. On my, uh. Leg. It was a big one—it should have left a scar.

(a beat, some shuffling)

Okay, and it didn’t, so. Neat. Uh—it—

(quieter)

I really thought it left a scar, it was huge and it was—that girl in my class commented on it—which gi—fuck, nothing makes sense!

(back to normal volume)

Okay. So—and then, Benji asks, what classes did I take last semester, adn—

I don’t like that I can’t say. I don’t like it, and I don’t—I’m afraid. It’s not that same catharsis that I’ve had when I’ve said that I’m afraid befo—when have I needed to say that? I have to have taken classes, because I was at school—I took a music management class, I know, but the only thing about it that I remember is Professor Emannuel, who teaches at Lands, because he was my piano teacher when I was a kid—

Fuck!

Okay, okay—

Robin asks me if I need help. My answer is yes. But I don’t want to scare you. I really don’t think any of us can handle it.

AJ asks me if, uh. My wrist is still broken.

It is. It—look, I don’t know how he knew that, but. It’s correct.

Elaine asks me if—I know who she is. And I went to her wedding, and I met her on New Year’s, but other than that—it’s just online stuff. The group chat, from New Year’s, which we made because—of something.

I don’t know what else to tell you guys. I just—my parents are out of town. They’re always out of town, and—

Teresa made a joke about that once. Called Harvard Blarvard, and—

Okay, so that’s—

We make audio journals, right? That’s something. That’s—

Something!

Yeah, hell yeah.

Fuck me, my head hurts.

Um. The room in this apartment that Teresa says is my room is really nice. It’s—it’s definitely mine-adjacent. Has riot grrl posters and shit, fairy lights. Unmade bed with my sheets. My guitar’s in here.

I don’t believe that you would lie to me, but my brain—some part of my left brain, wants to think you’re all lying. hat you’re fooling me, playing some big prank because you’ve been possessed by your alternative universe selves, who are—evil. And bad. Because Robin said—

Well, not Robin-Robin—

Was I over there?

Okay, neat, I guess—

Look, I’m just gonna—

Everything hurts, and I want all of you to be okay, but I don’t know how to handle—look, any of this—none of this makes any sense to me, and I can’t do it anymore! I can’t. I—

(her phone rings)

ANGIE

Hello?

TERESA

(regretting this already)

I shouldn’t have called you. I’m—I don’t want to scare you, and I don’t want to make things worse, but—

ANGIE

(kindly)

No, it’s—it’s good to hear your voice. Are you at work?

TERESA

Uh, yeah, we’re restocking. Trying to sort of. You know. Ration out subscriptions. It’s silly, but it’s something to do, and, uh. If you’re down, you can come over and help—we’re—

ANGIE

You know Benji would lose his mind worrying.

TERESA

(laughs, almost nervous)

Fair. I don’t really know why I’m calling, you know? I just—it’s been so long since we’ve talked, like—actually talked. And then, you don’t have half the context, and it’s just—

ANGIE

It’s gonna be weird no matter what. We might as well just… talk.

TERESA

God, I’ve just—I’ve missed you. Y’know? I keep trying to—to drown it out, to focus on things that aren’t worry—God, I try to worry about other things, but it all circles back. It feels—selfish. I don’t know why.

ANGIE

I’d argue that worrying about someone you care about is kind of selfless.

TERESA

Not when people are dying.

ANGIE

Teresa, people are always dying, and it’s—terrible. And it’s scary, and—it’s difficult, but you gotta worry about keeping yourself and the people you love alive.

TERESA

(endeared)

That’s corny and you’re corny.

ANGIE

But you love me anyway.

TERESA

I wouldn’t go that far.

ANGIE:

I have amnesia, technically. Don’t be a dick.

TERESA

(just joshin’)

Why shouldn’t I? You’ll just forget about it.

ANGIE

That’s corny. And mean. And I love it.

TERESA

Yeah, I thought the joke worked. It was maybe insensitive. Can I—uh. Come over?

ANGIE

It’s your apartment.

TERESA

And yours. And you need private time.

ANGIE

Remy Washington’s here.

TERESA

And asleep.

ANGIE

Fair. Come over. Yeah

TERESA

Okay, uh—look, Mae’s calling—I’ll be over soon, okay?

(disconnect)

ANGIE

She’s—so good. She’s feeling selfish because she gives a shit about anything other than the big picture, because she is—a caricature of herself. Goddamn. I—I love her a lot. She’s my constant, you know? We met when we were—what, twelve? When she moved next door, and—she’d always try and sneak into the pool at night so she could swim—she was a little rough-and-tumble, so she’d have cuts, so the ocean’d hurt—because. Saltwater and open cuts, right?

music: the clock, zoe crawley

It’s fucking stupid that we have a pool when we’re next to the ocean. But, uh. It’s not fucking stupid that I met her. Brought my keyboard—wireless, because twelve year old me lived lavishly—outside on the roof, and I saw this—tiny, scrappy, little motherfucker jump down from a tree. Hair tied up in what would have been, earlier in the day, a very neat bun. Pen in hand.

And we didn’t talk for—I dunno. A month or so? Until July, and she had more bandaids than normal, and I asked her for her name, and—

And then, we just happened. It’s one of those dynamics, right, that shouldn’t work but it does.

She went to FSK, I went to Corielli, and—

Corielli. That’s important to, uh. All of this.

But—I digress. We drifted apart, especially after the whole—church. Scandal thing, but we’re still—friends. I still love her.

I’m gonna stop—recording now, okay?

(And there’s a click. Angie pressed the wrong button. Inattentive ass.)

(We have a  solid minute of shuffling around. Guitar tuning, some strumming, the music fading, a LOW BATTERY alert and then, the door opens.)

(FAR AWAY FROM MICS)

TERESA

Hey.

ANGIE

Hey.

TERESA

You doing any better?

ANGIE

You’re here early.

TERESA

Benji drove me. He didn’t want me or AJ to get, like—kidnapped by Mae’s dad, or whatever—

ANGIE

I won’t even ask.

TERESA

Oh. Yeah. Um.

ANGIE

Look, there’s, uh—I missed you. Even if it hasn’t been as long for you as it feels like it’s been for me—I just hope you—

TERESA

Yeah, Angie.

(beat, tender)

I do. I really—do. Things will be better soon, I think.

ANGIE

You don’t have your notebook.

TERESA

Yeah, uh. I—I don’t think I need it right now. I think I’ll remember right now just fine.

(There’s a beat. Long, steady, comfortable)

ANGIE

(with a smile on her face that won’t go away)

Hey, I think I’ll remember right now just fine, too.

END OF SEASON 3 / one day by zoe crawley


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