SETTING: The city. Anonymous structures loom over parks – plotted trees and nature in an organized box. A one-bedroom apartment will open as a focal point. A room with a view – large windows and utilitarian furnishings that say: someone lives here.
Two people (a hippie and a lawyer) meet and hilarity ensues. How? On a plane, in the rain, in Spain? No, no, no.
They’ll converge at a Save the Trees demonstration. The hippie, Raine, will chant and hold her protest sign aloft while the lawyer, Tom, will negotiate traffic. He’ll blare his horn at the demonstrators gathered in the street to save a few scraggly trees from the greed of developers.
The hippie, Raine, will snap something clever at Tom’s remark – a casual toss of words out his window – that she get a real job.
A week or two later, he’ll jolt as he stands in line at a local coffee shop for a cappuccino. The hippie will stand behind the counter, wild hair pulled back in a respectable ponytail; her name tag will say R A I N E. Tom will retract his comment about her not having a proper job. They’ll banter, engage in light conversation, then depart. He’ll wait for her to get off work, and they’ll exchange numbers. Improbably, they’ll fall in love. We don’t consider, for a moment, how someone falls in love: whether they land gently or in another’s arms; we don’t think: why does one fall, rather than jump, or grow, or slide? We don’t think: someone falls in love – implying impact.
We think: the catch – Tom already has a girlfriend. D'oh!!!
Raine will steal brief and public vignettes with him, in cafés, in clubs, in boutiques, in movie theatres, in museums, in zoos (capture shots of glamour and color in our words). She doesn’t know about the girlfriend. Tom’s conservatism will erode because of Raine. The hippie will seduce the lawyer with her clanking love beads and free free spirit. He’ll play a game of juggle: two lives, two women.
We play a game, too: words and sequences, manipulation of situations to squeeze them dry of laughter.
At a dinner with his girlfriend, Natasha, in his favorite restaurant (an upscale bistro, dimly lit, with tinkling music – the kind played in elevators and hotel lobbies), Tom will ask the waiter to pull back the drapes. Let in some light.
Outside the window will stand Raine! She’ll wave wildly. Only Tom will notice, as Natasha examines the menu. Yanking back the drapes, Tom will excuse himself and run out to demand an explanation of Raine.
"Coincidence – in the neighbourhood, decided to stop by your favorite joint," she’ll say. "Thought you might be dining here."
We won’t ponder the improbability of this instance; we find that Happenstance works perfectly well to conjure elements of humor in our story.
"Sorry, gotta go. In the middle of a business meeting!" he’ll say, and rush back inside.
Natasha will sit reapplying red on the skinny of her lips. She’ll look annoyed. "Where were you?" she’ll pout at him. "I ordered the rose wine." With a manicured hand, she’ll pat her Wonder Woman-like wig.
We’ll whittle Natasha down to a batty, conceited wench. Tom will grow weary of her. He’ll think of ways to say goodbye to her. But it will still hurt when Raine discovers the girlfriend.... she’ll surprise Tom (again!) by showing up for a visit at his apartment. Natasha will answer the enthusiastic ringing of the door-bell; Raine will survey the situation, her eyes gliding over the details: their milk kept in glass bottles reminiscent of the classic affair between the milkman and the bored housewife. A severed banana, brown with age, will lie on the cutting board – the rejected other half of Natasha’s ("that snooty tart" thinks Raine) breakfast. Two coffee cups, one smudged with a sloppy lipstick kiss.
Raine will run, cueing the pregnant clouds to break – it always rains when someone’s sad. Raine and rain will pour through the streets (ha! like what we did there?!). Tom will chase after her, but of course he won’t catch up. We’ll put time between them. Time and conflict.
Tom will say goodbye Natasha, choosing Scenario B from his list of ways to get rid of her – it involves hot cocoa with whipped cream, a fifty-dollar bill, and a hearty Break-Up Speech. While she packs her pink kimonos in a suitcase, he’ll comb the city for Raine, pushing back the dark lush hair of the city, poking his nose in all the places they hung out together.
In a ratty, poor (economically depressed?) neighborhood, he’ll find her residence. Throwing aside plastic colored beads, he’ll discover two aging hippies, toking joints and stuck in an alternative-reality sixties. Raine’s friends?
Raine’s leaving – the words he manages to press out of the hippies. She’s leaving for some big-time city this afternoon.
A heroic dash to the subway station will follow. Tom will navigate cars and pedestrians. He’ll drive the drive of a man in Love – a hot, thick substance that alters his Reason.
At the subway, he’ll spot her through the crowds. She’ll wear red boots and a shirt slung over her bare shoulders; on her arm she’ll carry a large strawberry-patterned bag, and look a bit lost – probably the first real time she left home.
What she wears is important: this scene is the last. Looking at her reflection in a window, Raine will adjust her nose ring (fake?).
Tom will run to her, coated in a slight sheen of sweat, but handsome still. He’ll wear a navy suit and matching tie, and smell of aftershave. He will make the Very Last-Minute Speech of Love, the basics of which include: I’m sorry. You’ve changed me. I have to be with you. Raine (purposeful stress of syllables), I’m in love with you.
She’ll say, "Oh, Tom!!!" Her bag will drop. She’ll bring her hands up to his face.
The kiss will last a long time, a drawn-out cinematic kiss, a kiss to make the ghosts of Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck green with envy. The train that Raine planned on taking will whistle into the station. The story will end with the characters kissing. One by one the lights will blink out, and the setting and its inhabitants will vanish....
