More Than Just Lost

Feedback (good, bad, indifferent, just want to bother me, whatever) is appreciated. Please write to: theangstguy@yahoo.com

Synopsis: Jane Lane and Alison meet once again, a few years after the events of Is It Fall Yet? in this play for three voices. However, much has changed, and the meeting does not come out as expected.

Author’s Notes: This play was written in response to DJW’s Iron Chef challenge on PPMB, in August 2004: “A Step Too Far.” In a story of about 1,000 words, someone in the Dariaverse must be shown going “a step too far.” Also, the story had to include at least one movie quote and the word shenanigan(s). I tried something different here, writing the story as pure dialog in the manner of a radio play. You will have to fill in the setting and all the other details in your mind. The story ran over the 1,000-word limit of the challenge, but it is about going a step too far, and it has the magic word in it.

The title is from a remark Jane Lane makes to camp counselor Daria Morgendorffer in Is It Fall Yet?: “Any kid who looks to you for nurturing is more than just lost.” The thought seemed to have some relevance here, too.

Acknowledgements: My thanks go to DJW for the intriguing challenge. The story owes its existence to brainstorming between Lawndale Stalker, RLobinske, TerraEsperZ, and myself on another PPMB thread, “Daria meets more aliens.” Thank you, all!

ALISON: Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know this booth was . . . Jane?

JANE: Excuse me?

ALISON: Oh, my God! I knew it! I knew it! Don’t you remember me?

JANE: Alison?

ALISON: Yeah! Jane! Hey, surprise meeting you in here! Guess I win my bet after all!

JANE: Um, I don’t remember that we had a bet going about—

ALISON: You’re looking good! I like that leather cycle jacket. Nice pants, too. Real butch. [laughs] Are you waiting on someone?

JANE: No. I’m here by myself.

ALISON: Hey, if it’s all right with you, mind if I sit down just for a moment?

JANE: Uh, sure.

ALISON: Are you about to go somewhere? Got some shenanigans planned for later?

JANE: No. Just sitting, drinking, enjoying the quiet seconds between those noisy dance numbers.

ALISON: Sounded like you were going somewhere. I like your hair long like that. That’s a great cut. Are you a biker now?

JANE: Sort of. I have one out back.

ALISON: [laughs] Wow, you really have changed since high school! I mean, since I saw you last. This place is great. You know, I used to come in here when I was taking undergraduate classes downtown. The Glass Cavern is Middleton’s only hot spot for chicks to meet chicks, but you probably know that, right? The décor’s improved, I must say. It used to be called Lothlórien, after some place in The Lord of the Rings, I think. It had this big fake tree in the middle of the dance floor that took up all the space. It was awful. It looked like it had been poured out of a concrete mixer and had splotches of mismatched brown all over it, like chimpanzees had thrown the paint at it. God, I’m such a conversation hog. What have you been doing with yourself the last few years?

JANE: Oh . . . the usual. You saw me before I went into my senior year of high school, and I graduated and went to Boston Fine Arts College, got—

ALISON: No way! Bee-fak? You went to Bee-fak?

JANE: Yeah. I’ve heard it called worse. It was like paying someone to hit you with baseball bats every time you dared put a brush to canvas, but I survived.

ALISON: [laughs] I can imagine! Wow, Bee-fak is like . . . wow! I’ve heard that they have really hard classes! That’s one of the best art schools there is! How did you get in?

JANE: Sent them a portfolio of my stuff and an envelope of bribe money. They actually rejected me the first time I sent the application in, then took me on the second try. Lucky break.

ALISON: Oh, baby, luck had nothing to do with it. I saw your work, remember? At that summer art camp in Ashville? Your stuff was great! I knew you’d make it! Are you still in college?

JANE: No. I graduated last week. Four years, all behind me.

ALISON: Last week? You’re kidding! How did you graduate at the end of a fall semester?

JANE: I didn’t get in until the spring semester after high school. They rejected me for the fall the year before.

ALISON: But you got in! That’s all that counts. That is so great! What was it like to—

JANE: Wait. Excuse me, Linda? Can I have another one of these? And can Sheri put a little more whiskey in it?

LINDA: Sure thing, hon.

ALISON: Um, can you get me a house beer? Jane, let me pick up the bill for the drinks, okay?

JANE: I’ll pay for mine.

ALISON: No, please, let me.

JANE: No, really—

ALISON: Jane, listen. I . . . just let me do it, all right? I really feel bad about the . . . look, here it is. I really screwed it up the last time we saw each other. I was wrong. I’ve been thinking about it a lot in the last few years, really I have, and I was a jerk. I’m really sorry, okay?

JANE: Sorry for what?

ALISON: All that stuff about . . . about coming on to you. I was . . . I really liked you. I did, I’m not lying about it. And we had too much to drink, and then I tried to—

JANE: You said you were never wrong about the vibes people gave off.

ALISON: I was being an asshole. I’m really—

JANE: But you were right. You even said something about it when you saw me here. We’re sitting in a gay bar that’s ninety-eight percent full of lesbians, and I am, mostly, and you were right. I went out with my share of guys, too, but this is how it fell out for me in the end, so you were right about my vibes. I just didn’t know it then. Took a while.

ALISON: Well, it was still . . . you were just a kid back then, and . . . I was trying to get you drunk. Underage, too. I shouldn’t have . . . I just shouldn’t have.

JANE: Eh. I was almost eighteen, and I already had a taste for wine and liquor. A little pot, too, when no one was looking. Came from hanging around my brother Trent and his band. Bad influence. Least I didn’t get his tastes in music, too.

ALISON: Yeah, families are like that sometimes, I guess. I’m still . . . I still feel bad.

JANE: Why?

ALISON: Uh, I dunno. We like sort of had that fight when I went off with that artist guy, Daniel I’m-So-Full-Of-Crap Dotson, before camp was out. He was such a jerk. I was sort of seeing him and hoping to get my stuff out in a gallery somewhere, because I thought he had some connections I could use, and I thought he might be a fun guy, too, but . . . anyway, you called me on it, and I knew you were right, but I was like, hey, what do you know, you’re just in high school, and I just blew you off like those other morons at camp did. I sold out, and everything went downhill. Anyway, whatever, I’m just sorry it happened. It was stupid. I wish I’d had more sense.

JANE: It’s over with.

ALISON: Dotson, all he gave me in the end was chlamydia. Jeez, that hurt.

JANE: I bet.

ALISON: [pause] You’re still kind of mad at me, aren’t you?

JANE: Uh, no. I was mad at you at the time, because . . . forget it. It’s past.

ALISON: No, talk to me, please. I wanna talk about this, okay? It’s important to me. I really did feel bad about it.

JANE: [pause] Well, I told you about my friend, Daria, and how I came to be at Ashfield, right?

ALISON: She stole your boyfriend, and you were sort of running away from it all.

JANE: Yeah, but we made up over it later on. No, really, we did. I should have thought more about why . . . anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Let’s let it go.

ALISON: Daria still around?

JANE: I guess. I don’t know.

ALISON: Are you still seeing her? I mean, she’s your friend, right? I didn’t mean she was like your girlfriend or anything, just—

JANE: Let it go.

ALISON: Oh. Things . . . better shut up, I guess. Right?

JANE: Why are you here?

ALISON: Oh. Um . . . oh, I used to come here a lot, and I, uh, I wanted to come back and sort of . . . uh . . .

JANE: Drop in, hang around, see what was up?

ALISON: Uh, sort of. I live over on the north side now. I have a one-room efficiency, kind of a big closet with a bed and bathroom and kitchenette. Nothing much. Wanna hear something funny? I work at the Toyota plant by the Interstate. I used to work third shift, but I got my hours changed around two months ago and now I’m on first shift, so I can stay out at night again. I’m a janitor. That’s pretty funny, isn’t it? Not what you’d think an artist would do. If I was a real artist, I mean. I mean, it’s funny, me being out like this and meeting you here like this . . . you know, this isn’t working.

JANE: What isn’t working?

ALISON: I’m . . . I’m kind of being an asshole. Again.

JANE: How?

ALISON: [pause] I knew you’d be here. The bartender called me. I . . . I told her about you, that I knew you from that art camp, you know, when your pictures and that award thing showed up in the papers last year. It was sort of exciting, except the way . . . well, how we sort of parted. [pause] That wasn’t too good. I wanted so much to tell everyone that I knew someone famous, but I couldn’t, because when you and I left each other, we were sort of . . . I made a mess of things, and . . . anyway, what happened tonight was, the bartender called me an hour ago and said you were here, and I . . . I drove over as fast as I could go. [pause] You know, I can’t believe I did this. This isn’t working out. I should go.

JANE: Where are you going?

ALISON: Home. Look, I knew you’d be here, and I already knew you were at Bee-fak, and I’d read about you winning that competition to build that statue or memorial or whatever for that plane that crashed in Pennsylvania, for the passengers who were fighting the terrorists, and I thought—and this was really stupid—I thought I might . . . uh, I’m sorry.

JANE: You thought what?

ALISON: It was stupid. I thought you could maybe get . . . I’m sorry. Look, I haven’t done anything with my art for two years. I gave it up. Everything I tried to do to get into the galleries and exhibitions just blew up on me, and sleeping with everyone and their dogs, that didn’t work, and the one time I did get into a show, two years ago in Leeville, the newspapers said my work was like big splashes of pastel vomit. All my art, everything I’ve worked on for all these years, they said it was— [laughs] I shouldn’t laugh, but they said it was pastel vomit, and that’s . . . [pause] I’m sorry. I don’t have a tissue or anything, and here I’m all—

JANE: Here.

ALISON: Thanks. Half a napkin is better than nothing, I guess.

JANE: So, you came here wanting to see me, or—?

ALISON: I don’t want to tell you what I came here to do. You can probably guess, anyway. The first thing I thought when I heard you were here was, ohmigod, if I could get you to look at my work, or maybe . . . I even thought . . . I can’t look at you and say this, but I thought if I could get you to . . . I can’t say it. The bartender said you were here, and I knew only lesbians came here, so I thought maybe you and I, we might, um—

JANE: You thought you could get me to sleep with you, and—

ALISON: Yeah. And maybe you’d might be impressed enough to get my work into a gallery somewhere. Yes, that’s exactly what happened. That’s it exactly. I’m a total slut, I really am. I’d do anything to get my stuff out because it’s not going anywhere, and you are going somewhere! You really are! I saw your sketches for that memorial statue, and those were—Jesus! Why can’t I have ideas like that? Why can’t I do what you can do? I feel like I can’t do anything! I’d cut off my legs to be able to come up with the stuff you can! And you got one of your works into the MOMA in New York before you even got out of undergraduate school! I mean—damn!

JANE: I wasn’t trying to get it there. Someone bought it and—

ALISON: Yeah, right, like it . . . it . . . oh, crap. Forget it. I’m sorry. I was drinking before I even got here. I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe I did this.

JANE: Our drinks are here. Thanks, Linda.

LINDA: Separate checks?

ALISON: No, no, no. Me. I’m paying. Please? This once, okay?

JANE: Uh . . . fine. Whatever.

ALISON: I’ll finish my drink, and then I’ll go.

JANE: You know, for someone who talks a lot about leaving, you don’t go anywhere very quickly.

ALISON: [pause] You’re right.

JANE: Sit down.

ALISON: No.

JANE: Sit down. Sit down.

ALISON: [pause] I’ve been a jerk. Just like last time.

JANE: Stop it.

ALISON: [pause] Sorry.

JANE: For the love of all things holy, would you stop talking about leaving and stop apologizing? You’re worse than my brother Wind between marriages.

ALISON: [weak laughter] Okay. [pause] Do you have another napkin?

JANE: Take the rest of it. I didn’t use it.

ALISON: Thank you. [pause] You know, I was sitting in my apartment an hour ago, and I’d already killed half a six-pack, and I just felt like I was dead. Just like I was dead, only I was still walking around and going to work and coming home and drinking until I fall asleep, or . . . I’ll stop. [pause] Then Sheri called and said you were here, and I ran right out the door to my car and . . . and . . . here I am. Glad I didn’t kill anybody.

JANE: Where’s your art?

ALISON: It’s . . . I left it back at the apartment. It’s in a closet in some boxes. I had this plan that I—

JANE: Would get me to come back to your place and see it.

ALISON: Yeah. [pause] I can’t drink this beer. I won’t be able to drive afterward. Shouldn’t have driven over here to begin with. I’m drinking too much lately. It’s just . . . I dunno.

JANE: Are you seeing someone?

ALISON: What? Oh. No. I was seeing, uh, some guys . . . and, uh, some, uh, some girls, too, in last few years, but no one for long. Just whoever would have me for a while, I guess. I dunno. It’s not been going very well.

JANE: You come here often?

ALISON: No. Well, yeah, I used to. Everyone got too used to me, though. I complain too much. I’m not very likeable nowadays. Used to be able to get . . . I used to . . . anyway, no. I guess that answers your question.

JANE: I was thinking . . .

ALISON: You’re probably better at it than I am.

JANE: I was thinking that when I met you, back at the art camp, I really liked your attitude.

ALISON: My what? My attitude?

JANE: Yeah.

ALISON: What did you like about it?

JANE: Well, to begin with, you were funny and sarcastic and made all kinds of jokes about the posers and airheads and other people there who were so full of themselves, like Dotson. I liked that in you. You didn’t pretend to be anyone but you, except at the end when you went off with Dumbo. You reminded me sometimes of a friend I had.

ALISON: That Daria you told me about?

JANE: Yeah.

ALISON: I had more of a sense of humor in those days. Seems to have gotten away from me lately. I let it out for a walk one day and—ffft, off it went.

JANE: How much are you drinking?

ALISON: Uh . . . I dunno. Six pack a night, sometimes other stuff. It’s making me gain weight, I know, but it helps me sleep.

JANE: It kills pain.

ALISON: What? Oh, I . . . I dunno. I guess. [pause] You know, I really liked you back then, too. You had a . . . I don’t know what to call it. You just knew yourself. You knew what you wanted to do, and you did it. Even when you were pissed off or tired or whatever, you still knew who you were. Centered, I think that’s the word. You were centered. You still are.

JANE: I remember someone else told me something like that, too.

ALISON: Daria.

JANE: Yeah.

ALISON: What is the story with her? I know I shouldn’t ask, but you keep mentioning her, and—

JANE: Yeah. [pause] We were best friends in school. We were each other’s only friends, really. She moved to Lawndale from Texas when we were in tenth grade. We hung out together after school. We were outcasts, but it was fun anyway. We had each other and pizza and the TV, and that was great. We did all kinds of stuff together.

ALISON: Was she like your girlfriend?

JANE: No, it wasn’t like that. We were dating boys at the time. I was, anyway. I had one boyfriend that she wound up stealing. You know about that, I think.

ALISON: I remember.

JANE: So, anyway, we got over it, which I know is never supposed to happen in real life, but we did. We did, but sometimes I wondered about that, how it was that I was okay more or less with letting her back into my life after all that. She ended up dumping the guy later, which was sort of funny since it looked like it was so important for her to take him away from me to begin with. Big waste of time for both of us, looking back at it. So, we both went to Boston after school was out. She got into Raft as a liberal arts major, and I got into Bee-fak, and after a few years, here I am.

ALISON: You . . . I have to ask, did the two of you—I mean, what happened?

JANE: Well . . . we hung out a lot at college, for the first two years, anyway. It was like high school, except we were totally on our own. It was great. We even did summer school together. Then we had a little party at the end of her sophomore finals, just her and me in her dorm room, and we killed some wine coolers and got sort of wasted, and . . . things went too far. [pause] Well, as long as we’re being totally honest here, I made a pass at her.

ALISON: Oh.

JANE: I kissed her, is what happened. I caught her by the head and kissed her hard, like I wanted her. And I did, I think. I wasn’t even thinking about it. No, that’s not right. I had thought about it a lot. I kept wondering why I wanted to be with her after she stole my boyfriend, and why she wanted to dump him and be with me, and I kept thinking we had something going that was more than just being best friends. We’d been through so much together, and it just seemed like . . . like it was something else. I had it all wrong, though. [pause] It all started with you.

ALISON: What? Me?

JANE: You. You told me at camp, when you made that pass at me, that you were never wrong about someone’s sexuality. You didn’t say it like that, but that’s what you meant. It really shook me up. I kind of freaked out and didn’t go to sleepovers with Daria for a while after that. Which is sort of funny, in a way, because I liked going to her place or having her come over to mine for sleepovers. [pause] I used to wake up and look at her when she was asleep, and . . . it gave me such a good feeling. I felt like I had everything right there with me. And sometimes I thought about kissing her. I didn’t, it was just too weird for me, but I thought about it and it didn’t go away. So then, going back to what happened, I got smashed and kissed her, and that blew it. She freaked out. She sort of came to halfway through the kiss and shoved me away from her and she yelled, “Damn it!” She goes, “Damn it, damn it, damn it to hell!” and she threw me out of her dorm room, all the time rubbing her mouth off. Rubbing me off her mouth. Getting the taste of me out of her.

ALISON: Oh.

JANE: And that was pretty much the end of it. I’ll skip over a whole lot of stuff and just say we tried to make it work after that, but it didn’t. We couldn’t be just friends anymore. She was straight, no matter what I said or did. We finally stopped seeing each other about a year and a half ago. It hurt too much to even try to talk. [pause] I went to her graduation at Raft last May. I wore sunglasses and stayed in the back of the audience. She got her diploma and then left with her family. I don’t know if she told them about what happened. [pause] She’s in France right now, taking a year off before grad school. I want to write to her or call her or something, but it wouldn’t do any good. It’s over. I lost my best and only friend. All gone, like my drink here.

ALISON: Oh. And I caused it, the breakup, by—

JANE: No, you didn’t do that. You—

ALISON: But you just said that I—

JANE: No, listen to me. I said that you—what I meant was, you were the one who woke me up to who I really was. I’d been having thoughts about going out with girls all my life, here and there, but nothing serious. Or at least nothing that I thought was serious. I like guys, don’t get me wrong, and I’ve sure had my share of them, but I have a little something for women, too. More than a little, actually, of late. Not so much into guys now. Anyway, I am what I am, and that’s all that I am. You know, Popeye was on to something.

ALISON: I don’t know what to say.

JANE: There’s nothing to say. Could use another drink, though.

ALISON: Did you drive over here?

JANE: Rode my bike in from Lawndale.

ALISON: Oh, right. You shouldn’t . . . I don’t want to be a pest, but you shouldn’t drink that if you’re—

JANE: I’m staying over for the night. The manager’s got a spare room upstairs.

ALISON: You know the manager?

JANE: Yeah. My brother Trent’s band used to play here, but everyone hated them. She and I got along okay, though. I rented the room when I came in this evening, so I could just stay the night and relax.

ALISON: You’re crashing here so you don’t crash out there.

JANE: Yeah. That’s it. I like the way you put that.

ALISON: Thanks. Where are you staying? I mean, not here, but—

JANE: My parents’ place in Lawndale. I still have my old room. Hasn’t been cleaned in years, though. Smells kind of bad. I think I left a sandwich or something under my bed once, but I don’t want to look and find out.

ALISON: Is your family still there?

JANE: Some of them. My oldest brother Wind’s living in now, divorced again. He’s in some kind of group therapy thing where they forbid you to go out with anyone at all for six months. I don’t think he’ll make it. I think he’s dating one of the other people in his group already. That never works. Figures, though, with Wind. Everyone else is in and out every few weeks.

ALISON: Where are you going after this? After school, I mean.

JANE: Oh. I’m taking time off to work on the memorial project in Pennsylvania, starting in January. I’m working with a guy who’s doing the main part of the memorial. I’m doing the sculptures. Then I’m going to Yale for graduate studies, next fall.

ALISON: Yale? Yale?You’re kid—no, I guess you’re not. Oh, man, that’s . . . that’s great. That’s kind of expensive there, though, isn’t it? I mean, unless you got a scholarship or something . . . oh. Oh.

JANE: Yeah.

ALISON: Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

JANE: That was what I thought.

ALISON: Oh, my God. When did you get it?

JANE: The letter came this morning. Wind called me on my cell phone and read the letter to me, when he wasn’t crying all over everything about whoever his new ex-wife is. I can’t keep them straight anymore.

ALISON: Oh, my God. I can’t believe it.

JANE: Wind is always getting divorced. It’s nothing new.

ALISON: No, I mean about the scholarship. I can’t believe it.

JANE: That makes two of us. Are you okay?

ALISON: I’m . . . [laughs] I’m sorry I’m saying I’m sorry, but . . . I am sorry because I’m crying like this. It’s just that I’m really happy for you. That’s just . . . that’s incredible.

JANE: I don’t have any more napkins.

ALISON: I don’t care. I look like crap anyway. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.

JANE: You’re not saying that to get into my pants, are you?

ALISON: No. No, I’m sorry about all that. I really am. I’m so . . . I gotta go.

JANE: Where are you going?

ALISON: Home. I’m not that drunk. Listen, I’m really glad for—

JANE: Sit down. Stay a while.

ALISON: I can’t. I’m all messed up. I came here to do something really stupid and low, and you deserve better than that. I need to go home and get my head—

JANE: I told Sheri at the bar to call you and get you here. Sit down.

ALISON: [pause] What?

JANE: I was looking for you. I checked at Lilly’s Tavern in Swedesville, where you told me you used to hang out, and they said you moved to Middleton and might be here. Sheri knew you, so I told her to call you and get you to come over here, as a favor for me. Plus I gave her fifty bucks. Sit down. Thanks.

ALISON: Why? Why’d you—

JANE: Because I liked you, too, a long time ago. And I wanted to see you again, see how you were.

ALISON: You’ve got to be kidding me. After what I was going to do, you still want to see me?

JANE: Yeah.

ALISON: [pause] I don’t get it.

JANE: We’re two unattached bi women who used to like each other a lot, sitting in a lesbian hangout in Middleton. Think about it a little longer, see if a little bell rings.

ALISON: Uh . . . oh.

JANE: I thought a lot about you, last few years.

ALISON: You did?

JANE: I did.

ALISON: When you weren’t thinking about Daria?

JANE: I was thinking about you, actually, more than Daria. She happened to be there when the dam broke. It ruined our friendship, and I really regret it, but I tell myself it couldn’t have been helped. It still hurts, but . . . you were the one I was thinking about most. It was you.

ALISON: Wow. Oh, my God. [pause] I thought a lot about you, too. I kept thinking about how I screwed everything up, though. I had something there, I had something really great, and I flushed it all down the toilet for the chance to screw an egomaniac who gave me VD and was an abysmal lay, too. He was the worst. And to top it off, he didn’t even get my work into a show like he said he would, and he dumped me two days later, just like that, before I could even get around to dumping him. God, listen to me go on. I got what I asked for, I guess. [pause] I still like you. That can’t mean anything now, I know, but . . .

JANE: It does.

ALISON: [pause] What was it you liked about me, again?

JANE: You laughed at all my smart-ass jokes.

ALISON: Yeah. I remember you told one that almost made me pee my pants. You were imitating Dotson on a nature hike, trying to make it with a squirrel because he couldn’t find an art student to make it with, and I had to run out of the room, I was so— [laughs] God, I almost didn’t get to the bathroom in time. I just made it. That was so funny. You always had something to say.

JANE: I had more of a sense of humor in those days. Seems to have gotten away from me lately.

ALISON: Hey, I said that.

JANE: No, I did.

ALISON: Liar, I did. You can’t steal what I said.

JANE: Yes, I can. Anatole France said if someone says something and says it well, have no scruple, but take it and copy it. Or words to that effect.

ALISON: You’re a word thief. And you were trained by the French, too. You have a lot of Gaul.

JANE: I . . . oh, now, that was really bad.

ALISON: You deserved it, word thief.

JANE: I’ve been called worse.

ALISON: You probably deserved it, too.

JANE: I’m proud to say that most of the time, I did.

ALISON: [laughs] You sound like the Jane I knew.

JANE: And if you could just get a really bad attitude about everything, you’d sound like the Alison I knew.

ALISON: [laughs] Well, hey, I can work on it. [pause] Look, I . . . I’ll just say it. I want to stay and talk, but those beers I drank before I came over are taking effect, and if I don’t go home now, I won’t be able to make it into work tomorrow.

JANE: I can’t let you drive home in your condition. I’m going to have to insist that you get some rest. Here.

ALISON: No, really, I’m fine right now . . . hey, wait. That sounded familiar.

JANE: I promise not to kick you out of bed in the morning, unless you’re snoring.

ALISON: [pause] You’re drunk, Jane Lane.

JANE: Not quite. Almost, but not quite. I can hold my liquor pretty well.

ALISON: You’re making a pass at me.

JANE: I’ve been making a pass at you since the moment you walked by my booth. Jeez, you’re thick.

ALISON: Are you saying I’m fat? [laughs]

JANE: [laughs] Finish your beer, or I will.

ALISON: Let’s just pour it out and say we drank it.

JANE: Okay.

ALISON: What was it you liked about me, again?

JANE: Your perfect memory.

ALISON: Yeah, I forgot about that. Whew. I guess I still can’t believe you’d want to see me after I got you drunk and tried to take advantage of you.

JANE: It was my damn charisma acting up again. Couldn’t be helped. At least you didn’t try to steal one of my boyfriends.

ALISON: Christ, you can steal one of my exes if you want. You can have any of them.

JANE: Is it okay if I take them back to the store and get a refund instead?

ALISON: I’ve tried. It won’t work. Can I ask you something?

JANE: Sure.

ALISON: Have you . . . did . . . I mean, since—

JANE: After I kissed Daria? No.

ALISON: Oh. I almost can’t believe that. I mean, someone like you, you could have pretty much anyone you wanted.

JANE: [pause] I wanted to see you.

ALISON: [long pause] Um . . . me?

JANE: You.

ALISON: [sniffs] You know, I was thinking I should call in sick tonight to my supervisor. My eyes seem to be running a lot, and so is my nose. My throat hurts, too. Could be a cold or something.

JANE: Wait. Linda? Can we get some extra napkins, please?

LINDA: Sure. Is everything all right here?

JANE: Yeah, things are all right. Finally.

ALISON: I should take a sick day tomorrow.

JANE: Stay in bed and rest.

ALISON: I think I’d like that.

JANE: I would, too.

ALISON: Jane . . . I don’t want to break up the mood, but I’m really sorry about Daria. I know she meant a lot to you.

JANE: Yeah. Thanks. If I could have anything in the world right now, I’d—

ALISON: Get Daria back.

JANE: No. No, that wasn’t it at all.

ALISON: That wasn’t? I thought . . . what would you want, then?

JANE: A new best friend.

ALISON: [pause] Best friends sort of just happen. You can’t plan them out.

JANE: I know.

ALISON: But if it was possible at all, I’d like to be . . . I hope that’s your foot and not someone else’s that going up my leg.

JANE: It’s mine.

ALISON: Uh . . . I’d better call in sick now, or I never will.

JANE: Want to use my cell phone?

ALISON: I have one. Boss might have caller ID, and I’d rather my number showed up instead of yours.

JANE: Call from upstairs. The room’s pretty much soundproofed.

ALISON: You know this for a fact.

JANE: I do. I used to sleep there while my brother Trent’s band was playing.

ALISON: Let’s go, then.

JANE: Let’s.

ALISON: Do I really look fat to you?

JANE: Oh, shut up.

ALISON: Do I complain too much?

JANE: Stop bitching and go!

ALISON: [laughs]

Original: 08/24/04, modified 10/28/04

FINIS