Unwell Season 4/Episode 3- For Posterity

by Jessica Best

Voices from the past

We all love research

Today is a good day.

===

Content Advisories for this episode can be found here.

Listen to the episode here.

Support Unwell and HartLife NFP on Patreon at www.patreon.com/hartlifenfp

This episode features: Dallis T. Seeker as Grant, Marsha Harman as Dot, Kat Hoil as Abbie, Michael Turrentine as Wes, David Rheinstrom as Colin, Jill Oliver as Eliza.

Written by Jessica Best, sound design by Jeffrey Nils Gardner, directed by Jeffrey Nils Gardner, theme music composed by Stephen Poon, recording engineer Mel Ruder, associate producer Ani Enghdahl, Music Box and Piano music by Eli Hamada McIlveen, Theme performed by Stephen Poon, Lauren Kelly, Gunnar Jebsen, Travis Elfers, Mel Ruder, and Betsey Palmer, Our Fair City theme written by Stephen Poon, Unwell lead sound designer Eli Hamada McIlveen, Executive Producers Eleanor Hyde and Jeffrey Nils Gardner, by HartLife NFP.

====

GRANT
Smile!

THEN-DOT (SMILING)
Go to Hell, Grant.

GRANT (SLIGHTLY OFFENDED)
It’s got sound!

THEN-DOT
What?

GRANT
Brand-new machine. It records what you say, too.

THEN-DOT
In that case: listeners, go to Hell.

GRANT
Dot Harper, folks! Floating any names for it yet?

THEN-DOT
“It”?

GRANT
The baby.

THEN-DOT
I thought you might’ve meant one of my pregnancy hemorrhoids, they’re

getting big enough. Is Uncle Tim still downtown?

GRANT
Nah, he’s outside, doing some house stuff.

THEN-DOT
“House stuff.” Really love the way you paint a picture with words.

GRANT
It takes a lot of work to keep a place like this running right.

So, baby names?

THEN-DOT
I’m thinking Bugsy “No-Neck” LaGrange.

GRANT
But Dottie, what if you have a boy?

THEN-DOT (AMUSED)
Keep that up, Grant, and I won’t name a hemorrhoid after you.

(LAUGHS AT HER OWN JOKE)

DOT (LAUGHS IN TANDEM WITH THE RECORDING)

IT IS ABOUT AT THIS POINT THAT IT BECOMES

CLEAR DOT IS WATCHING AN OLD VHS TAPE.

THEN-DOT
Dale’s got his heart set on a girl. I just wanna be sure I don’t have one of

those alien--oh, what’s it called--

GRANT (AMUSED)
I promise you I don’t know where you’re going with this.

THEN-DOT
--those alien--those facehuggers that bursts out of my belly and raises

Hell, ‘cause it’s starting to feel that way with every kick.

A MUSIC BOX STARTS UP: IT’S PLAYING

CLAIR DE LUNE BUT AT A WEIRD

LURCHING TEMPO:

SHORT NOTE-LONG-LONG

SHORT-LONG

LONG

SHORT

SHORT-LONG-SHORT

LONG

SHORT-SHORT-SHORT-SHORT

SHORT

THEN-DOT
Ugh, put that away.

GRANT
It was Eliza’s. It’s good luck.

NOW-DOT
Is it, Grant?

Abbie! Hey, ABBIE!

THE TAPE CUTS TO THE FENWOOD KITCHEN.

SOMETHING SIZZLES ON A SKILLET. GRANT IS

HUMMING THE FUCKED UP CLAIR DE LUNE.

THEN-DOT The artist at work! What’s for breakfast?

GRANT
Crepes.

THEN-DOT (THE STEREOTYPICAL FRENCH LAUGH THING AMERICANS DO)

GRANT
I was gonna do pancakes but we’re out of baking powder. Can--

THE RADIATOR CLANKS:

SHORT-SHORT-SHORT-SHORT

SHORT

SHORT-LONG-SHORT-SHORT

SHORT-LONG-LONG-SHORT

(OVER THE CLANKING)

DOT
Christ, what’s wrong? Should we get Tim?

GRANT
Oh, it’s just saying “hello.”

DOT
I am never gonna get used to that.

GRANT
It grows on you. Can you pass the butter?

DOT
Man, people really used to record everything.

A KNOCK ON THE DOOR, THE VCR

PAUSES.

ABBIE
Dot?

DOT
Come in.

ABBIE ENTERS

ABBIE
You got the VCR set up?

DOT
Looks like it.

ABBIE
How. I was anticipating at least an hour of rigamarole.

DOT
Muscle memory. Did you get the goods?

ABBIE
Not yet. I’m still banned from the library, and the pages have gotten

assertive. My current plan is to find some local teens and pay them to

check it out for me. You may have to come along, I don’t know if they’ll

trust me. (PAUSE) That sounds sketchier than intended.

DOT
Are we paying them in cigarettes and beer?

ABBIE
I see your point, and anyway, it’s for the pursuit of knowledge, it’s not--

DOT
No, I’m saying, you don’t understand the teenage economy. Any fool can

earn money babysitting or mowing lawns, but contraband is worth its

weight in gold.

ABBIE
You put me in charge of this part of the plan, and that means I’m in

charge of deciding how much to corrupt the local youth.

DOT

Hey, as long as you’re here.

ABBIE

You called for me--

DOT

I did, and you came, and as long as you’re here, can I borrow your eyes?

ABBIE

Such as they are.

DOT

Well shit, you’ve gotta be doing better than me.

ABBIE

You need new glasses.

DOT

My glasses are fine, it’s the damn world that’s gotten all goddamn blurry.

REWINDING

THEN-DOT

--‘cause it’s starting to feel that way with every kick.

A MUSIC BOX STARTS UP: IT’S PLAYING CLAIR

DE LUNE BUT AT A WEIRD LURCHING TEMPO.

THEN-DOT Ugh, put that away.

THE TAPE IS PAUSED.

DOT

Which music box was that? We’ve got a pile in the basement, but if I don’t

have to go through every single one of them, that’d--

ABBIE

I can’t make it out, the video’s too grainy.

DOT

Goddamn retro technology.

ABBIE

Thanks for not asking if I can “enhance” it.

DOT

Wait, can you do that?

ABBIE

No.

DOT

Have you ever heard that song before?

ABBIE

It sounds like Clair De Lune? If it was played by someone with a

genuinely calamitous sense of rhythm?

DOT

It belonged to Great-Grandma Eliza.

ABBIE

Then my apologies to her.

DOT

Abbie, if you could move with a little urgency here. I know you don’t think

it’s gonna come to anything. I know that. But I do. So if you could put

yourself in my shoes for a sec--

ABBIE

--and ardently believe that somewhere in your grandma’s extensive and

creepy music box collection lies the secret to magically protecting the

town?

DOT

This is where your suspension of disbelief stops, really? At the place

where we might be able to do something here?

ABBIE

Every time we dig in and look for concrete answers about the town’s more

opaque happenings, we end up with as many, if not more, questions than

we started with. I’m tired.

DOT

But. Today is a good day.

ABBIE

It’s a good day so far, that’s no guarantee of the next second. If we

squander that by getting out in the weeds of the swamp of this problem--

DOT

Okay, Abbie, if you want out--

ABBIE

Yes.

DOT

That’s--not what you’re supposed to say.

ABBIE

I have no interest in helping with this particular wild goose chase but I’ve

been meaning to check out a few books anyway, we can still snag the

next volume of Eliza’s diary while we’re there, if we’re strategic about it.

To the library?

DOT

I’ll get the noisemakers.

TRANSITION. WE’RE IN DOT’S OFFICE.

DOT

Okay, Dottie, here we go.

AN OLD JOURNAL IS OPENED.

DOT

That old book smell. A classic.

PAUSE.

DOT

Did she have to write so goddamned small?

WES APPEARS OUTSIDE THE DOOR

AND KNOCKS.

WES (THROUGH DOOR)

Hey Dot? We’re out of peanut butter.

DOT

Wes, you know if it’s not a creepy staircase or a dark room in the middle

of a thunderstorm, you can just appear.

WES (THROUGH DOOR)

Okay.

WES APPEARS IN THE ROOM.

DOT (SURPRISED NOISE)

Hey, Wes.

WES

It seems rude not to knock. Is there anything else we should put on the

list?

DOT

Uh, I don’t know. I’d say check the fridge.

WES

What’s the matter?

DOT

Wes, I’m not losing my sight along with my mind, right? This is

legitimately hard to read?

WES

You already have glasses.

DOT

That’s what I said.

WES

What you need is bifocals. What’s this?

DOT

“The Journal of Eliza Lyle Fenwood, book two, November 1900 to

January 1902.”

WES

Your ancestor’s diary. Book two?

DOT

Book one covers her working as a telegraph operator in 1890’s

Cleveland, and meeting her husband, Gregory. A lot about his shoulders

and whole physique. As in, more than you’d wanna hear about your

great-grandpa.

WES

I don’t remember my great-grandpa.

DOT

I guess we’ll have that in common soon enough. (A BEAT) Anyway, I

figured, who would have a better handle on all this lupine bullshit than the

people who probably had to deal with it before us? Pretty much

everything of Calvin Lyle’s got lost in the fire, but that still leaves Eliza,

Grandpa Colin, and Uncle Grant.

WES

Why are you doing this in the office? Where’s Lily?

DOT

Out with Marisol. Their first date post-wolf infestation. Relationship

milestone.

WES

Is that wise?

DOT

They were going crazy cooped up in the house. And I know a thing about

crazy.

WES

...you’re not keeping this project a secret from her, are you?

DOT

I’m not hiding this from her, I just haven’t mentioned it. There’s a

difference. Anyway, the office has the good chairs. If she asks what I was

up to today, I’ll tell her. In the meantime, I need to figure out how to read

Eliza Fenwood’s tiny-ass writing using only the powers of my mind.

WES

And you’re planning on doing all this in one afternoon?

DOT

It’s just--today is a good day.

WES

Yeah.

DOT

I’m sharp, I’m ready, I feel good.

WES

That’s great.

DOT

I don’t know how many of those I’ve got left.

I could use a win. Everyone’s so careful around me lately. Imagine the

looks on their faces if I rolled up with the answer to our latest riddle.

WES

Do you want some help?

DOT

I think it’d be better if I do this myself.

WES

Better for who?

DOT

I’d owe you.

WES

So? You’d owe me. I know where you live.

DOT

I can pay you in cigarettes and beer. Or money, if you wanna be boring

about it.

WES

You’re doing this to try to help the town, right?

DOT

That’s the plan.

WES

Then one more time, I work for free.

CHAIRS ARE PULLED OUT AND SAT ON.

AN OLD BOOK IS OPENED.

WES

Okay, let’s start at the beginning. November 9, 1900--

THE FAINT SCRATCH OF A FOUNTAIN

PEN CAN BE HEARD UNDER ELIZA’S

LINES.

ELIZA

The Mount Absalom Suffragette Society held its inaugural meeting today.

In attendance were myself, A.O., and Patches. We discussed a number of

important matters, including how one may best enter the polls next year

unnoticed, or at least unimpeded.

DOT

It just says “Patches”? Are you sure?

WES

It just says “Patches.”

DOT

Weird nickname.

WES

Do we think, maybe a cat or a dog?

DOT

I know she was supposed to be an eccentric, but she wasn’t delusional.

Maybe there was some kind of town rule about how many people you

needed for a Society and she was padding out the numbers?

WES

“The meeting was--”

ELIZA

The meeting was held on the back porch, so that all could attend more

easily. A.O. supplied ample and delicious celery soda and chocolate cake,

heartily enjoyed by all save Patches.

DOT

Dog? I’m thinking dog.

WES

Dog would make sense, although I don’t think cats really eat cake either.

“We elected--”

ELIZA

We elected officers, voted on dues, and debated four proposals brought

by either myself or A.O. The time passed productively, although Patches

took it upon herself to be a firm neighsayer.

WES & DOT

Horse.

ELIZA

Proposal one passed two to zero, with Patches abstaining--

DOT

Skip to the next entry.

WES

More meeting minutes. It looks like...Patches got kicked out of the club

after eating a page of their notes.

DOT

Okay, skip to the next one. Skip to the next one that’s interesting.

A FEW PAGES FLIPPING FORWARD. A

PAUSE.

WES

Oh wow. Uh, here’s something. “November 23, 1900--”

ELIZA

I saw little L last night. I had gotten up to use the privy and when I came

out, she was standing there in the frost. She looked so like herself that I

knew her even in the mostly-darkness, even at a distance. I asked her

how Mother and Father fared but she did not seem to hear. Instead, she

smiled and pointed to the stars.

We have been carefully tending to her grave, and the graves of the rest of

the family. I will not doubt Father’s word again, save for his enthusiasm

regarding rutabaga, which has always tasted to me like it was cooked in a

sock.

She held the pose for a good tencount, finger stretched towards

Cassiopeia or thereabouts, and then she was gone, evaporated into the

night. She appeared in fine health, as I remember her often being. It was

good to see my sister.

DOT

Hmm. I wonder if Little L could be Lina Lyle.

WES

Were there other Lyle sisters with names that started with L?

DOT

Somewhere in these papers are some family trees Abbie made. Can you

find the one marked Lyle-Fenwoods?

PAPER RUSTLES

WES

Lina Lyle. Born 1876, died 1892 of tuberculosis. Siblings were Eliza,

Penny, Charles, and Marcus.

DOT

I thought she fell off the roof.

WES

We made that up for the Ghost Tour.

DOT

Oh. Right.

WES

It looks like all the Lyle siblings except for Eliza died of tuberculosis, within

a few years of each other.

DOT

Yeah, I think I remember hearing about an outbreak. Eliza was spared

because she was still in Cleveland.

WES

Cassiopeia, huh?

DOT

Yeah. When you get a sec, can you ask Rudy--no.

WES

No. But I’ll ask Norah, the next time I see her.

PAGE TURNS

WES

Next is--uh, looks like a recipe for stew.

DOT

I think we can skip that one.

WES (SKIMMING) Looks pretty standard. No rutabaga, which I guess makes

sense. The last step says not to forget to add a clean penny to the pot.

I’ve heard of adding coins to pudding for good luck, but stew?

DOT

I can’t remember the last time I made stew. Do you think that’s why this

place is creaking under the weight of its own debt? No money in the

soup?

A PAGE TURNS. ANOTHER PAGE.

WES

Dot?

DOT

Yeah?

WES

No offense, but are you going to spend the whole time reading over my

shoulder?

DOT

“Read” is a strong word. Her handwriting looks like a dog ate it.

WES

Are you going to spend the whole time squinting at the paper because

you need to go to the eye doctor, over my shoulder?

DOT

Hold your goddamn horses. Did I grab Colin’s journal from the basement?

WES

Here.

DOT RAPIDLY FLIPS THROUGH PAGES

DOT

Bypassing the front part; it’s mostly baseball. First the season, then

looking forward to the next season.

WES

You read it already?

DOT

Years ago, the first time I stayed here.

WES

Was it for a history project?

DOT

History, schmistory. Nothing like the thrill of reading someone else’s diary.

February 27, 1937--”

IF AUDIBLE, THE SCRATCH OF A PENCIL OR

BALLPOINT PEN CAN BE HEARD UNDER

COLIN’S LINES.

COLIN

Rain all day. More rainfall than I can remember ever seeing at one time. A

good day to be indoors. I can’t stop thinking about the rabbits we see in

the back sometimes. Much as they love making a meal of the garden, I

hope they’re not too miserable. It is the kind of rain that lets you know

how Noah in his ark must have felt.

DOT

First sports, then the weather? Get it together, Colin.

PAGES OF A JOURNAL TURNING.

WES

Well?

DOT

The roof is leaking upstairs. They need to patch it up and fix the water

damage, which calls for a meeting with a man named Mr. Sprouse.

WES

The roofer?

DOT

No, Grandpa Colin’s really worried about the meeting. I think they need to

ask the bank for a loan. Meanwhile, Grandma Leah is freaking out

because her sister Kelly is going in for major surgery the same day in

Boston and she wants to be there.

WES

Couldn’t Colin do the meeting alone?

DOT

Grandma Leah handled the books while she was alive. Had a real head

for numbers. She’s actually the one who made me want to be an

engineer. When we were waiting for our food at restaurants, she would

write out, oh what are they called, uh, (DOT CAN’T LOCATE THE WORD

“EQUATIONS”) math problems for us to solve together.

March 5th, Grandma Leah sets off for Boston in the car. By herself, very

daring.

COLIN

March 6th,

Exhausted. I think it went well? Leah did great.

DOT

I guess she turned around.

WES

What’s that, wedged in there?

DOT

It’s a letter.

A PAGE TURNS. A LETTER FALLS OUT.

DOT

“March 7th. Dear Mr Fenwood,

Just wanted to write a quick note after our meeting yesterday to thank you

again for the delicious coffee and home-made pie.”

(LAUGHS)

WES

What?

DOT

Grandma Leah couldn’t bake for shit. Mr. Sprouse, you charmer.

“It was so good to talk to you and your wife. And I meant what I said about

the two of you and this place, the good work you’re doing here and the

good things you contribute to this community, even in hard times.

Especially in hard times. It is not an easy thing for the bank to extend

credit at this moment, but it would be my honor to offer you a loan of

$300. Meet me on Tuesday and we can discuss the particulars.

My very best wishes to the Fenwood family,

Wilfred Sprouse.”

Yikes, what a name.

PAGES TURNING

COLIN

March 8th,

Kelly’s condition is much improved. Leah is heading home tomorrow. I can’t wait.

DOT

Hang on--

PAGES TURNING

DOT

Did she stay or did she go?

WES

Do you think maybe…

DOT

What?

WES

In the basement, how you saw Lily while she was gone.

DOT

Are we sure that wasn’t just the Dizzy D?

WES

The what?

DOT

The dementia, Wes, keep up.

WES

That’s not funny.

DOT

Well, if I don’t make a joke about it, I’m going to vibrate through the floor,

so let’s just move on.

WES

Abbie and Marisol saw her, too. Young Lily. She wasn’t a hallucination. I

think she was--like me. And I think the Leah that Colin and the banker

saw was like me, too.

Whatever that means.

DOT

Wes…

WES

I’m fine. Keep going.

DOT

March 20, 1937--

COLIN

Watered them again. They thrive. It appears to do no good.

March 22, 1937--Again watered. Nothing.

March 29, 1937-- On the advice of a helpful lodger Ms. Aaron, I have

decided to move to a once a week schedule. I might have been

over-watering.

May 27, 1937--Once again, I watered them. They are growing in leaps

and bounds. Still nothing.

DOT

You get the picture. It’s a lot of this.

WES

If the plants are growing, what is he waiting for?

DOT

I lost patience, to be honest.

WES

Hmmm. Can I see?

A JOURNAL IS HANDED OVER, PAGES

FLIPPED THROUGH.

WES

Hmm.

DOT

What?

WES

June 24, 1937--

COLIN

The flowers are out in full. Nothing. I don’t think of Granddad or Mother as

a liar but I am beginning to think I will never see her again.

I don’t understand what I did wrong. I served faithfully. I honored the rules.

A penny in the pot for prosperity. A bloom on the grave for their return. I

have opened the doors, I have watered the stones, I have tightened the

ropes, I have counted the stars, I have sounded the bells, I have watched

for the one in the night. Was there something else I was supposed to do?

Leah says death comes for everyone. How do I explain that this is Mount

Absalom? It sounds silly to say out loud. She says I will need to find other

ways to keep the ones I’ve lost in my life, which I suppose most people

do. Loss is common as corn, but I feel like a space explorer landing on

Mars. There is never a map. Grant and Margaret barely got the chance to

know her. I think that hurts worst of all.

DOT

“A bloom on the grave for their return”? I don’t think I’ve heard that one

before.

WES

Hang on, hang on--

PAPERS RUSTLE

WES

“We have been--”

ELIZA

--carefully tending to her grave, and the graves of the rest of my family. I

will not doubt Father’s word again--”

WES

Is it just me, or are these entries referring to the same thing? It kind of

sounds like they used to think that growing a flower over someone’s burial

plot would ensure that they’d come back. Like I did.

Or like I thought I did. God, I don’t--

DOT

Are you okay?

WES

What am I?

DOT

Wes, honey...

WES

I hate it. I hate having no answers. I hate that I worked so hard to

remember who I was, and now it turns out that I might not even be him.

I’m not a ghost. I’m not Theodore Wesley. He’s just this stranger whose

memories I stole.

DOT

On the plus side, he was from the nineteen-fifties so, you know, you’re

probably a better cook.

WES

Dot--

DOT

Canned tuna encased in green Jello. That’s what you escaped.

WES

You can’t joke this into being okay.

You’ve got no idea what it’s like to not know where you came from, who

you are.

DOT (SIGHS)

As long as we’re taking this little jaunt down memory lane.

So my mom, and my dad, but mostly my mom, was real strict with me

growing up. She had a lot of ideas about how a lady was supposed to act.

Lord knows where she picked those up, since Great-Grandma Eliza was

a hoot and a half, but you know. I could never be what she wanted, and to

be honest, I gave up trying pretty soon, but it was rough. It hurt.

WES

At least you knew where you...

DOT

I’m not done. Then one night when I was supposed to be asleep, I was

maybe seventeen, and I overheard my parents having a fight. And my

mom kept saying, ‘What if she turns out just like her, like Lucy?’ Which

was weird, because I didn’t think we knew anyone named Lucy. So,

feeling like a much cooler Nancy Drew, like a Trixie Belden, let’s say--she

was--

WES (SLIGHTLY IMPATIENT)

I know who Trixie Belden was. What did you do?

DOT

I called Grant and Tim, told them I already knew all about who Lucy was,

and why had they kept her a secret from me?

And that’s how I found out that the people I knew as my parents couldn’t

actually have kids. That biologically, I came from a good Catholic girl who

got knocked up in college, daughter of a friend of a friend of a friend of my

Mom’s. So Lucy took about a seven-month trip out of state, and my

parents came home with a baby.

And that was--I don’t know if you ran into this much, Wes, but that was

kind of just how adoption was done back then. Nobody talked about it, it

just kinda happened.

WES

You don’t talk about it either.

DOT

I guess I don’t. I’m not ashamed, I just--it doesn’t come up much.

WES

Did you look for her? Lucy.

DOT

No.

WES

Why not?

DOT

Well, for one thing, it would’ve devastated my parents, if they found out I

knew. For another...I had already tried to be my mom, you know? And I

had made a terrible Margaret.

Honestly, when I found out, what I felt was this tremendous sense of

relief. Because I still had all the love they’d given me--and they were

tough but they were loving--but I didn’t have to be her, and I didn’t have to

be Lucy either.

What I felt was, it was like, have you ever heard that 1970’s Jackson

Browne song, “I am a Child in These Hills”?

WES

No.

DOT (AUTOMATIC)

Before your time.

WES

After it.

DOT (EMBARRASSED)

Right. (MOVING ON) Well, anyway, what I realized

was that I could do whatever I wanted. I could just be Dot.

WES So I should just be Wes? Easier said than done.

DOT Whoever you are now, those memories you got back still have an impact

on you. They still help shape the you that you are. And even if you are not

exactly the spirit of Theodore Wesley, you still have them. You get t

decide what they mean. And that’s not easy, but you have a long time to

figure that out.

You are a child in these hills, Wes. “Looking for water, and looking for life.”

WES

What?

DOT

Jackson Browne.

WES

I already told you, that doesn’t mean anything to me.

DOT

I know, but it’s a really good song.

WES

Thanks. For talking.

DOT

Eh, it’s what I do.

WES

Does Lily know? About Lucy?

DOT

Yeah. It never mattered to her. Margaret and Don did the grandparent

stuff, Margaret and Don were her grandparents.

You do Wes stuff, you’re Wes.

WES

Should we get back to the journals?

DOT

D’you want to?

WES

Yeah.

DOT

Okay. Where were we?

WES

Looks like they thought growing a flower over the coffin would bring

someone back.

DOT

But it didn’t work, right?

WES

Right.

DOT

It’s a moot point anyway. We’re not trying to bring anyone back, we just

need a way to reinforce the borders around the town.

We’re looking for wards, barriers, protections. All kinds of shitty things

happened in olden times, there would be plenty of reasons for these

people to write about taking extra steps to keep this place secure.

TRANSITION

WES

Anything?

DOT

I’m learning a lot more about baseball than I ever wanted to know. Got

anything on your end?

WES

Patches was re-admitted to the Suffragette club after she bit the mayor.

A PAGE TURNS.

WES

Huh.

DOT

What?

WES

Could be nothing.

DOT

If it’s not about the Cincinnati Reds climbing up the goddamn 1938

National League, I’m interested.

WES

December 11, 1900--”

ELIZA

Much to J.W.’s displeasure, I have set it to music so that it may more

easily be passed down for posterity and should need arise. I have opted

for something of a hymnal style, after G reluctantly informed me that

ragtime would simply not suit. J.W. insisted that this pursuit was a

disgrace to the old ways, &c &c but the thing is done.

G pronounced it a great success. I have already begun to teach the song

to B, who seems to greatly enjoy clapping along with her fat little hands.

DOT

Set what to music?

WES

It doesn’t say. Looking at the family tree, G could be Great-Grandpa

Gregory.

DOT

That’s what I’m thinking. And B--

WES

Bridget, her firstborn.

DOT

J.W….If having a stick up one’s ass is genetic, could that be a Warren?

WES

It’s probably better not to jump to conclusions. There could be plenty of

other people with those initials at that time.

PAPERS RUSTLE

WES

Looks like...there was a Walker family who settled here in the 1850s, and

the Weinbergs came in the late 1880s.

DOT

If it was a Warren weighing in, that suggests it might’ve been important.

WES Look back--

A PAGE TURNS

DOT

Nothing. You know what I’m thinking? There’s a pile of old sheet music in

the basement.

WES

On it!

WES DISAPPEARS.

DOT

What else you got for me, Colin?

DOT SCOOTS THE JOURNAL TOWARDS

HERSELF.

COLIN

June 15, 1938-- Johnny Vander Meer is now the first major league player

in history to pitch two consecutive no-hitters. The first was on the eleventh

at Crosley Field and the second being tonight, at Ebbets Field, against the

Dodgers!

DOT

Huh, the Dodgers. That’s something. Thanks, Colin.

PAPERS RUSTLING.

DOT

JW, JW, where did Abbie leave those family trees…Aha, the Warrens!

1900, so JW would probably be at least twenty, born let’s say 1880 or

before…Why is it so hard to read. “Because you need new glasses,

Dottie.” Shut up.

Well, what do you know: born 1858, Jacob Warren, died 1927. That would

put him at...about 42 in 1900, prime stick-up-the-butt years.

Dot Harper: historical detective!

WES APPEARS.

WES

Who are you talking to?

DOT

Mind your business!

WES

Did the house used to have a piano? Not the toy piano in the attic, but a

real one?

DOT

We still do. It’s back in the storage room somewhere, under a heap of

crap. Nobody played--Lily took lessons as a kid but she didn’t stick with

it-- and I couldn’t justify keeping it tuned. Why?

WES

There is a lot of sheet music in this house.

WES DUMPS A SHEAF OF PAPERS

ONTO THE TABLE AND BEGINS TO

RIFLE THROUGH THEM.

DOT

Any old enough for our purposes?

WES

Let’s see, we need something from about 1900, probably

handwritten...and not a weird old novelty song.

DOT (READING)

“I Like Bananas (Because They Have No Bones).” Fair

enough, dead songwriter. Fair enough.

Anything?

WES

No dates, but this paper seems like the oldest. Does this look like Eliza’s

handwriting to you?

DOT

You mean, does it look like it was written by a baby mouse?

WES

Novelty song, novelty song, definitely a novelty song--this last one could

be something.

DOT

Let me see.

WES

Here.

DOT

You were birthed before the first fall

from the stars down to the soft loam--

Can’t you read music? How does it go?

WES

Hang on. To the attic!

WES DISAPPEARS.

WES REAPPEARS.

WES

Let’s see.

WES SETS DOWN THE TOY PIANO.

THERE IS A RUSTLE OF SHEET MUSIC

HANDED OVER. WES TESTS A FEW

KEYS, MAYBE MAKES A CHORD. OOF,

THE TOY PIANO DEFINITELY HAS SEEN

BETTER DAYS.

WES

It’s not really in tune…

DOT

Wes, I am begging you, just play the song, please.

WES PLUCKS OUT THE MELODY AND

SINGS ALONG TENTATIVELY. IT’S THE

SAME MELODY AS THE TOWN ANTHEM

IN 1.03

WES (SINGING)

You were birthed before the first fall

from the stars down to the soft loam,

may You shepherd us from ill--

(SPOKEN) Why does that sound familiar?

DOT Because it’s the same tune as the town anthem. Go on.

WES (SINGING) Mount Absalom, Mount Absalom

a barrier we'll build

for though the one at night does roam

we shall protect You still

May You answer in the bell's calls

May You drink it from the old stones

may You bless the earth we till

Mount Abasalom, Mount Absalom

When water from the hill

meets water from the hall and home

We know that we do Your will!

PAPERS RUSTLING

WES

Weird lullaby.

DOT

I don’t think it’s a lullaby. The “You” is capitalized.

WES

...weird hymn?

DOT

Most hymns are about asking the big guy to protect us, not offering

protection. “A barrier we’ll build”, that sounds like something, right?

WES

Too bad it doesn’t say what the barrier is.

DOT

The town’s will...is to mix water from the hall, the home, and the hill...

WES

The home is Fenwood, right? Eliza meant her home?

DOT That’d make sense. The hall…what hallway has a sink in it?

WES

Could be Town Hall.

DOT

In that case, what’s the hill?

WES

The observatory?

DOT

“Water from the hill”, though. What water from the hill? Rain runoff?

WES

Wait, what if it’s the font?

DOT

The what?

WES

When Abbie went through the hole in the bottom of the observatory, they

found a chapel with a baptismal font. It was dried up, but maybe not back

then.

DOT

But what’s the water source in Town Hall? If Chester Warren’s got a

secret river in the basement like the Phantom of the Opera, I wanna know

about it.

WES

That seems like a moot point, given the baptismal font’s dry.

DOT

Yeah. Dead end?

WES

It’s a shame that she went to so much trouble composing a whole song

for it.

DOT

I wish I could just ask her, know for sure.

WES

That’s the weird thing about getting into history, right? The closer you feel

to them, the sharper the distance.

DOT

If that JW is Jacob Warren, why was she sharing this with him? What did

she think that was gonna do? How come Jacob Warren got to understand

it and we can’t?

WES

If JW does mean Jacob Warren, who’s to say they never got along?

Maybe they started out working on all this together and something

happened.

DOT

What?

WES

I don’t know.

WES PICKS OUT THE MELODY AGAIN.

DOT

All the times I’ve sung the town anthem, I never knew she wrote the

melody.

WES

It’s catchy.

DOT

Better than that creepy old music box.

WES

Which one?

DOT

The one that plays Clair de Lune, but with the rhythm all janky. There’s

just, this weird mix of long notes and short notes, like it’s random,

like--wait, hang on.

DOT HITS A BUTTON ON THE VCR. FAST

FORWARD. PLAY.

THEN-GRANT

--grows on you. Can you pass the butter?

THEN-DOT

Not if I eat it first. The whole thing, like a banana.

THEN-GRANT (STARTS TO LAUGH)

THE RADIATOR CLANKS:

SHORT-SHORT-SHORT-SHORT

SHORT

SHORT-LONG-SHORT-SHORT

SHORT-LONG-LONG-SHORT

THEN-DOT

….really damn insistent with that hello.

THEN-GRANT (STARTING TO WORRY)

Can you pass me that pen? And the paper?

THEN-DOT

Sure thing.

THE RADIATOR CLANKS:

SHORT-SHORT-SHORT-SHORT

SHORT

SHORT-LONG-SHORT-SHORT

SHORT-LONG-LONG-SHORT

THEN-GRANT (Under his breath, almost imperceptibly, muttering

“Short-short-short-short--” and so on along with the clanks.)

THEN-DOT

Grant?

THEN-GRANT

That wasn’t a hello. Can you watch the pan while I go wake Tim?

THE RECORDING CUTS OFF. STATIC. DOT

TURNS OFF THE TV.

DOT

You know what I’m thinking? Great-Grandma Eliza was a telegraph

operator.

WES

Do you think...she taught the house how to use Morse code?

DOT

I think that makes as much sense as any other damn thing that’s

happened. Wes, any chance it’s one of your scout things?

WES

I never finished my Signs, Signals and Codes badge.

DOT

What’re the odds the internet--

WES

Definitely.

TRANSITION

WES

So we have: dot-dot-dot-dot, dot, dot-dash-dot-dot, dot-dash-dash-dot.

DOT

What does that spell?

WES

H-E-L-P.

DOT

That must’ve been why he thought it was saying hello.

WES

Do we think...this whole time, maybe the house has been signalling to us?

DOT

Maybe when I first took over, but it must’ve learned pretty quick to try

something else. In the meantime…

WES

What?

DOT

That music box, with the wrong tempo?

WES

Oh wow. Hang on!

DOT

For--

WES DISAPPEARS.

DOT

--what? (TO HERSELF) He’s gone, Dot.

WES REAPPEARS, WITH A BOX OF

MUSIC BOXES, WHICH HE SETS ON THE

DESK.

WES

Here we go.

A MUSIC BOX IS OPENED. IT PLAYS

“FUR ELISE.” IT IS CLOSED.

WES

My mom taught that song to all her students. (A BEAT) Theodore’s mom.

DOT

Whatever makes sense to you, that’s what counts.

WES (TRYING IT OUT)

The mom I remember. It was stuck in our heads all the

time. Sometimes, when she wanted to be annoying, she would hum the

first couple of notes, and get it stuck there all night. (CONSIDERING) No,

you know what? I’m the only one with these memories now. She’s my

mom.

DOT

Right on.

A MUSIC BOX IS OPENED. IT PLAYS “IN

THE HALL OF THE MOUNTAIN KING.”

WES

“In the Hall of the Mountain King” is sort of an odd choice.

DOT

Grandpa Colin had a friend who was kind of a general tinkerer. During the

first part of the Depression, when Eliza was still alive, Grandpa Colin

would commission new music boxes for her. Especially when his friend

was hurting for money.

A MUSIC BOX IS OPENED. IT PLAYS

THE THEME TO OUR FAIR CITY IT IS CLOSED.

A MUSIC BOX IS OPENED. IT PLAYS THE

FUCKED UP “CLAIR DE LUNE.”

WES

Is this the one?

DOT

Yeah.

WES

Gosh, that’s...a little painful.

DOT

Right? Okay, internet at the ready?

WES

Let’s go.

MUSIC BOX IS CLOSED. MUSIC BOX

OPENS AGAIN, WES TYPING ALONG.

FOR THE RECORD, HERE IS THE

RHTHYM THE MUSIC BOX IS PLAYING:

DOT-DASH-DASH

DOT-DASH

DASH

DOT

DOT-DASH-DOT

DASH

DOT-DOT-DOT-DOT

DOT

DOT-DOT-DOT

DASH

DASH-DASH-DASH

DASH-DOT

DOT

DOT-DOT-DOT

THE MUSIC BOX SONG ENDS

DOT

Do you have it?

WES

...huh.

DOT

“Huh”? “Huh”? “Huh” what? Pins and needles over here, Wes.

WES

It says “water the stones.”

DOT

...huh.

END