by Rooks Russell

OPHELIA: 

Thank you again, for meeting with me. I know you say, you’d meet me anywhere, any time, but, still, thank you. You see I’ve had something on my mind, and I think about it all the time, so I figured it would be best to just get it out so … Do you remember the time six months ago when you were walking me home and you found that cat? It was old, and we were both pretty sure it had been hit by a car. You took it home and cared for her – I think it was a “her” at least. For two days you hardly slept, and you called in sick to school and work. You took her to the vet, but they said there was nothing that could be done. She passed the next day, and you cried and insisted she have a burial. I still think about that cat when I pass by the old elm tree on the way to school. But what I remember the most from that day is you with a shovel, carving out a little place for her in the earth, and I was holding this dead cat that neither of us knew the week before, and then, when you finished, you took her from me in such a gentle way, like you were cradling a newborn, and you were quoting poetry and reading from the Bible – all of this for a cat – touching the book with the same hands you used to bury her – and that was the day I fell in love with you – or realized that I loved you. I’m so sorry, because I tried to keep it to myself, I tried to not say a word about this, but every day I walk past that elm tree, and I think about that cat, and I think about how I love you, and for an instant I think to myself, when I die, I want you to speak like that about me. 

EMMETT: 

It’s bad luck to plan out your funeral this early. 

(Beat). I’m sorry, it’s not that I haven’t thought this through, but I need the moment to gather the words together.

(Pause)

 I think I have them now, so – I’ll say first that I’m sorry. You are such a wonderful person, and I care so deeply for you, but I just can’t bring myself to say … those words … to you. 

(As if this pains them) 

If I believed in love, I would have liked to say I love you. But I don’t. So I can’t. 

OPHELIA: 

You don’t – you don’t believe in love? 

I mean, I remember that when we would, when I would make you watch those rom-coms you would drag your feet and complain and call it unrealistic – and rom-coms are about as unrealistic as you can get … but I always assumed, well, I hoped that you at least thought it was possible for people to love each other.  

EMMETT:

I do. Kind of. They can. For a time. It’s not that I don’t believe that love can exist. I just … don’t believe what people mean when they say “I love you.”

(Deeply disturbed by this) 

It’s weightless and unbound so that it’s just wind. It doesn’t last. I can’t count the times I’ve watched a boy say “I love you” to a girl one week only to call her a crazy bitch the next. Parents say it as an excuse right after pointing out their children’s secret insecurities … Couples who have been saying it for twenty years but stopped meaning it long ago – they get divorced and stop saying anything at all. People say it without thinking, and sometimes it’s true, but sometimes it’s just hollow. But it isn’t some passing phrase. It’s important. “I love you” is a pledge you make, it’s a declaration of your devotion. I think we’re all a little scared of committing to something, at least in a way that really lasts. We have different ways of approaching the issue. They separate the promise from the words, I just can’t bear to say them. 

OPHELIA: 

I would give you a pledge. If you’d have it, I would swear an oath right now. Every day I would wake up and my first thought would be of you – It already is! – and I’ll gather up the woes and worries of the previous day and scatter them to the wind, and I’ll walk hand in hand with you into the next. I promise every day to give you the sun and the stars because I think they belong beside you. I know I do.

EMMETT: 

It’s a very sweet oath. 

But why does that have to be love? Why can’t it be something else like nobility or virtue? A knight is devoted to his king as a matter of honor. A soldier goes to war for his country because of loyalty alone. 

(Beat) 

I would go to war for you. 

OPHELIA: 

(Understanding, softly) 

I know. 

(Beat) 

But Em, can’t you see that’s what love is? A knight loves his king, a soldier loves his country. Love is noble, it is loyal, it is virtue. We call it love because it is. And it’s no sin to recognize the truth. 

EMMETT: 

(A heavy sigh).

You make such compelling arguments, and not just with your pretty words. But just by being: every time that you look over your notes and the tip of your tongue sticks out of your mouth, the way you tilt your head when you listen to music in the car, how you despise pancakes but you’re head over heels for waffles even though it’s literally the same batter, the way that you hate to cry in front of others, but you will still watch a sad movie with me, how you declare absolutely that Autumn is your favorite season, you are so lovely. And every day it catches me off guard.

You are so lovely. And every day it catches me off guard.

You have thoroughly convinced me on every point to love you. It is only a bull-headed denial of fact that preserves me. Because, Ophelia, I cannot spend my life loving a ghost. So often you talk about leaving, packing your bags the moment you hit eighteen and blowing this town. You’ll go to Alaska or Maine or Canada, somewhere distant and cold and be content for a while. But I know you too well, and I fear that one day you would go to the edge of the continent and keep walking into the sea, and you would never come back to land. Despite your kind words, I don’t want to speak at your funeral. I don’t even want to imagine living more than walking distance away from you. 

I cannot spend my life loving a ghost.

OPHELIA: 

(Beat)

What if I stayed? 

(Hesitant) 

I know I talk about leaving, and some days I get so frustrated that I just get in my car and start driving and I don’t look up … but you can’t get in your car and start driving if you have to meet your friend for dinner. So … what if? What if I had to meet you for dinner, not just today or tomorrow or the day after that … but so on. It doesn’t have to be dinner. It could be breakfast – with waffles – or a movie – or even just an evening walk. What if you were the unending obligation that kept me from throwing everything I own into a bag and crossing state-lines? Because I would never make you wait for me for dinner, and I would never want to leave you with a ghost. 

I would never make you wait for me for dinner, and I would never want to leave you with a ghost.

EMMETT: 

If you would let me be that to you, then I would happily call it love.

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My name is Rooks Russell. I am a senior psychology and English major which means I’m great at parties.