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.
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