No Light

(This is the first thing I've posted in a very long time. But I hope if you read it, you'll enjoy it. ~peanut)

LILIBET SCOTT, 27. A coat that is lying on the ground folded into a rectangle is the only thing that stands between her and the audience. This represents a table and will be used later. There are no other stage dressings and the stage is lit only by a harsh blue-ish/white light. LILIBET faces the audience to speak, as if she is speaking to one singular person “you”.

LILIBET: Five weeks before my sister turned sixteen, I got my first car. Well, it was Annie’s but two years later it was formally passed down to me.

            We used to drive back through the fields to the old tobacco barn to get away from Mama and Daddy in the summertime. We’d roll down the windows and let our hands dangle out, trying to catch the sunlight as Annie drove. Sometimes she’d swerve, not paying attention to the path cut through the corn. I’d have to pull the wheel with my left hand until she stopped laughing enough to concentrate.

            That’s how she broke her arm, catching the sunlight. The corn was racing past us and her fingers snagged on one of the stalks when she turned to me to say something. Thinking  about it now, I don’t even remember what she had to tell that was so important. All I can remember is the look of terror in her eyes when the sunlight turned tangible between her fingers and the sound of cracking bones when the stalk snapped. Her hand hit the window frame at a million miles an hour.

            Hyperbole. That’s what that is. My piano teacher told me once that hyperbole is like lying, stretching the truth until eventually it can break.

            But that’s what it seemed like; it happened so fast. It took all Annie’s strength to slam her foot on the brake and let me in the driver’s seat. Her face was going violet from the pain.

            I never even thought of going to tell Mama what happened. Just took off through the back of the field to the main road and sped like the Devil was after us to the hospital in the next town over. Mama was probably still in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast, while her fifteen year old almost ran red-lights to get her sister to the E.R.

            When we got back, I thought Daddy was going to break her other arm and both mine from anger.

            I’m sorry. I don’t know why I thought of that. What were we talking about again?

            Oh, the other accident. I’m sorry, really. But Dr. Gillespie said something when funny when…that…happened. Is Regan alright? What about Harper?

            Am I alright? Yes, yes of course. I’m fine. I’m sure you’d be happy if I just stopped asking questions. But they’re only five, you know? Twins.

            Born two hours apart…almost killed me. Twice. I named them after a play. Bet you can’t guess the name. I’ll tell you, though. It’s Harper Regan by Simon Stephens. First play I saw on Broadway.

            They’re about to start kindergarten. Can you believe it? Neither can I. It seems like only yesterday they…you don’t want to hear about it. It’s not important.

            I can’t seem to remember what’s important. Although, what’s important to me probably isn’t important to you. Did you ever answer my question? Are they alright? They’re with Andrew? Good…that’s…that’s good.

            My name, is that what you asked? Yeah, I guess that’s important.

            Do I look at you or the camera? Or should I aim my sentences at the recorder on the table between us so it’ll catch all our words?

            At you? Well, it’s a little hard to look at you right now. Sorry…I keep apologizing. Sorry—sorry. Okay. I’m going to look at the camera. If you don’t mind. I can’t see why you would. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re even here after everything…Would’ve thought it’d be harder for you to look at me. Let alone record this to watch back.

            What was the question again?

            My name…my name is…Do we have to do this? You know my name. Oh, this…it isn’t for you. Evidence, right. Wait—you’re going to show this to the police.

             You do realize I have kids? They’re only five. This will save me? Are you sure. I’m going to pray that your silence means yes. Fine. My name…my name is Lilibet Scott and it was and accident.

            I used to draw on the walls with matches…Makes me wonder why the crayon drawings on our hardwood floors bother me so much. I’d strike six matches at a time and watch the flame burn. Annie used to love to blow them out, candles, matches, lighters. Lighters were her favorite because after she’d blown them out, the flame would just pop right back up. I think she made a wish every time she breathed them dark. That’s what she called it “breathing the light dark”. Every single time she’d make a wish, like if she kept doing it they’d magically come true. Like some one would hear them.

            She’d blow out the fire then I’d use the burnt edge to draw on the walls of the tobacco barn. Just pictures and things. We’d tell stories to each other and I’d draw images of our creations on the wood with the charcoaled bits. Then I’d light more matches and Annie would blow them out again. For hours. We had to keep the windows down in the truck on the way back through the field so that the fresh air would blow the smell of matches away. But I think deep down Mama and Daddy knew we were doing something when the match boxes disappeared out of the study. Daddy’d get frustrated when he couldn’t find a match to light his pipe. Eventually gave up and bought a lighter. But we’d take that too and use the tobacco stakes left in the barn. Always remembered to put the lighter back, though.

            That’s where we were going, to Annie’s house. Thought she could use some time with Harper and Regan. They sure thought she could. “We wanna go to Annie Banannie’s!” Did you hear them saying that when you first picked me up? They were shaken for all of ten minutes and still wanted to go to their Aunt’s house. Did Andrew ever take them? I’m sure he was ready to do their head in. He can’t take the shouting sometimes.

            He never does anything too them. He just gets really quiet and they stop, still in their tracks, clam up. It’s like when a teacher doesn’t talk for half of the class period, just waiting for you to stop your conversations. It unsettles you. It unsettles them, when their Daddy, who normally plays around…just. Stops.

            Is it cold in here to you? I’m about to freeze. Do you know what happened to my coat? Could have sworn I was wearing one…It’s in…evidence. Oh. Do you…do you think you could get it for me? Please? Thank you so mu—

            Paces the floor a bit, walking in circles as if around a table. There are spots not walked on, as if there is a chair in the way. Goes to where a door might be and reaches toward it. Draws back hand quickly like touching ice cold metal and shivers slightly. Goes back to where she was standing before. When the unseen person comes back she turns to see them come through the “door” and follows their movements with her eyes and turns with her body until she is in the original position she was before they left. Picks up the coat and puts it on.

            Where were we? You asked me where we were going. Oh, yes. The crayons. They were going to Annie’s, Harper and Regan. They were supposed to spend the night. Are you sure you can’t tell Andrew to take them over? Not your division. Okay. I understand; it’s just they were so looking forward to it. I think Andrew was looking forward to it, also. You remember how I said he couldn’t stand the shouting? He was probably looking forward to some quiet. Just him and me. Don’t give me that look. I didn’t mean like that.

            I was supposed to pick up a bottle of wine on my way back from Annie’s once the kids were there. Although, he’d probably need more than wine. He’s going back to school. It’s wonderful. Sometimes it makes me want to cry. Thinking about how proud I am of him. His courage to go back, his determination. The example he’s setting for the twins…not that they’ll remember. They ask me all the time where he’s going off to…When he leaves after being home for a few moments.

            They don’t understand but one day I’ll be able to tell them how their Daddy went back to school to do something better with his life; to do something he was passionate about. He wants to be a lawyer. A proper lawyer with big cases and clients, arguing in front of a judge.

            Seems odd that I’d be here talking to you when he’s at home studying for his law courses. Makes me wish I’d paid more attention to the little bits of information he mutters into his flashcards.

            Makes me wish I was going back to learn something. Maybe I will…after all…this is over. Oh God, please don’t hang your head like that, wringing your hands. It was an accident. The family will see. You’ll show them this tape right? They’ll know about this, about me…won’t they?

            I... Annie and I used to pull stuff like that. Once she had the car, even before. Annie put it in neutral and would steer while my feet sank into the gravel as I pushed it down the driveway. Mama and Daddy never even stirred. We’d sneak down to the gas station and get a soda then drive around to the back of the field to watch the stars. The constellations were so massive. It was hard to fathom their existence. Annie used to tell me that they were people and that we were the stars. What we saw in the sky were people in other galaxies watching us from a million billion years away. She said that the power of our dreams were so bright that our lights shone up into the heavens. I knew she was crazy but just to hear her talk like that at two in the morning. It was like magic.

            There weren’t any stars tonight…did you notice? Of course not. In the city they disappear. That’s why I knew Annie was making things up. I moved to the city to dream. To follow my dreams.

            But there wasn’t any starlight to guide me tonight.

            Harper and Regan have this game that they play. Just the two of them, in the back seat while I drive. They…they have this block. It’s wooden and has their names painted on it in yellow and purple, their favorite colors. And they love it…they have to pass the block back and forth and when they do they tell a part of a story. And Annie and Andrew love it too because I get to hear them playing and acting in the car. But I record it for them. On my phone. I could play it for you if you like…If I ever get my phone out of…

            That’s what they were doing. Telling a story. I had my phone set, recording and off they went into their imaginations. I swear they’re going to be famous one day…but isn’t that what all parents say. Andrew’s not convinced. He doesn’t think anyone could make it as an actor. Although I think the idea scares him because…they’re only five. I think he’s afraid I’m going to go insane and start them auditioning for cereal adverts…

            They were fighting…over the block. Just screaming at the top of their lungs. Both of them. Because Regan wouldn’t give it up. I was looking at the road. It was there, in front of me. Houses on either side; I think a street lamp was flickering. And I remember it clearly the car, rolling down from the left side through some trees that were hiding the drive.

            And then Harper screamed.

            Glass was breaking and I can remember the block flying through the air. I think they found it beside the other car. But all I could think about was my kids. They’re five. In a month they’ll start school…and I don’t know why that of all things is making me cry. I’m sorry, really. I’m sorry. Just…

            There was a girl. Another girl, the one who was pushing the car without lights. She was sobbing. Her face was twisted and I was afraid it was going to stay like that. It was like she couldn’t breathe…there was an ambulance, a woman who was working…she gave her a paper bag to breathe into. I could hear the bag crushing in on itself then sighing as it filled again.

            The girl who was originally in the car…they had to use those metal…things to get her out. They couldn’t right the car…it just stayed there, on its side while the metal claws dug into the roof. I couldn’t bear to watch it.           

            Harper was clinging to my leg; Regan was holding my hand muttering to himself. I could feel Harper’s body shaking against my jeans. It was so hard to pull her off of me when the policeman came over. He made me call Andrew. To tell him where we were; he could hear them through the speaker, I know he could. Her screams…and Regan’s mutterings…and the paper bag crushing and sighing. I couldn’t…

            She was pronounced dead at—no. You can’t be. You’re lying. I know you are! She. They got her out. They saved her.

            No…okay…then tell me what the hell happened because I don’t believe you. I’ll wait.

            Several beats. Stay silent for as little or long as necessary. Lights fall.