Participants:
| Scene Title | Before It's Too Late |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | There's no practice run, no do overs, this is it. |
| Date | October 31, 2010 |
Thomas Jefferson Trailer Farm
Could you whisper in my ear
The things you wanna feel
I'd give you anythin'
To feel it comin'
The note had been left for her. It was simultaneously reassuring and anxiety-inducing. The words were simple, but the writing unmistakable; especially to her. Sullivan Brother Court, it said. But it was Edgar's scrawl, unmistakably Edgar's scrawl, and that left Lydia with one thought: going to the trailer park where she'd found Samuel. It's where he was gathering and collecting their supposedly new family, it only made sense, especially in light of the words.
Her black ballet flats silently pad between the trailers as her dark eyes scan Thomas Jefferson Trailer Farm for any sign of her speedster. She'd known where to find Samuel, and now she can only hope Edgar is close to the same local. Her willowy white dress falls mid-calf, like a kind of fallen angel among the trailers.
Do you wake up on your own?
And wonder where you are
You live with all your faults
The noise is unmistakable, the high pitched whistle of extreme velocity hits her ears before she even realizes he's beside her. There's two kukri clenched tightly, one in each of his sinewy hands, something of a safety blanket for him. "Wha' d'you think Lydia?"
He whirls both knives in his hands until their blur looks something like he's balancing two silver plates. With all the flare of a carnival performer, he bends his head downward, watching as he carefully tucks both knives into handmade sheathes strapped to his belt. The juggler seems at ease, certainly the happiest the fortune teller's seen him in years.
"I'm sorry I worried you, Samuel tol' me." There's a sheepish quality to his countenance as he stands in front of her, like a child that's done wrong. "I's wrong, I should've been wi' you all along… No new fam'ly."
I wanna wake up where you are
I won't say anything at all
So why don't you slide
Yeah I'm gonna let it slide
The whistle forms goosebumps across Lydia's neck, shoulders, back, and arms followed by the slightest shiver. Her reactions are nowhere as quick as his; they're even-paced, slow, even as she inhales a single deep breath to draw her arms around him. While he may be remorseful, she's far from goading, the worry melting away as easily as it'd come. She leans into him and inhales deeply. Tears burn at her eyes so she closes them, not permitting a single one to fall, not today.
Her fingertips move up to his cheeks, gently lining them, grazing his face and ensuring he's still whole. Instead of chiding him, her still-watery dark eyes seek out his blue ones. "I missed you," she whispers before leaning forward and brushing her lips against his cheek. Only now does she regard the kukri, "They're perfect."
Her body relaxes with relief, the stress draining from it. There's a twitch of a smile drawing her lips upwards, "I thought — " Her eyebrows knit together as her gaze moves away, the truth a sad admission that she'd rather not voice and so she changes topics entirely, "What happened?"
Don't you love the life you killed
The priest is on the phone
Your father hit the wall
Your ma disowned you
"I miss'd you as well, Lydia…" Edgar's voice is a little bit soft as he gives her a small smile and steps away, slipping his hand up to capture hers. He holds it between both of his hands for a moment as he stares at her. "The only thing tha' 'appened… Is I's wrong, abou' ever'thin'. Samuel came an' saved me, explained ever'thin'."
He walks Lydia back to the trailer that he's chosen, a small bubble of a commuter thing that would likely be transportable save the fact its wheels are missing and it's up on blocks. Its silver siding marred by years old spray paint that had marked it as some gang's property. Old news now.
"C'mon in, no one'll bother us." Edgar's reassurance might not be needed, but it's there as he tugs Lydia forward. The breeze that catches her ruffles her skirt and hair flaring it a bit outward, making her look ethereal. "I 'aven' told you t'day 'ow pretty you look. I wish I 'ad flowers… they don' like teh grow 'ere." He points to the snow covered ground where he's tried to eke out a small patch. The dirt's been disturbed and a few seeds planted, but it's the wrong season.
Don't supposed I'll ever know
What it means to be a man
Somethin' I can't change
I'll live around it
"I went to Samuel when I heard the news. I'm sorry I didn't do more. I felt…" Lydia's voice quiets around the last word even as she squeezes his hand, grounding herself again with a softer smile, sad in a way. She easily bides his guidance, entering the trailer without much urging, the reassurance wholly unnecessary. Her even steps shuffle her further into the trailer, the familiarity of living in a trailer only inspiring that feeling of home.
Her cheeks flush at the notion of her appearance, as her gaze turns down sheepishly. "I wouldn't worry about the flowers." There's another flicker of a smile before she observes, "Not everything can be as quick as you are." Beat. "Myself included."
She watches him carefully as she smooths her dress before sitting on one of the chairs inside the trailer. The silence that comes over her is unusually reflective, even for the fortune teller. Her cheeks flush further, a brighter tinge taking on her features before she observes. "I… was… afraid…" It's an unusual admission from a woman who lets little truly scare her.
I wanna wake up where you are
I won't say anything at all
So why don't you slide
Slide
"I s'pose tha's all you 'ad teh do, tell Samuel. 'E done the rest." The inside of the trailer is chilly, probably due to no heat. To make them both a little more comfortable, Edgar places a small lantern on the table and lights it up. "I should go back teh Florida, or sum'ere warmer… If I go, will you come wi' me? I can try teh convince Samuel teh move the fam'ly."
He's never liked the cold, she knows it.
"After I 'elp 'im wi' 'is job of course… Lydia…" The speedster sits down on a chair and shuffles it closer to her own. His large hands reach out to encompass hers and hold them close to his lips. "Y'know why I can' go teh your shop… DHS, they's pro'bly watchin' everywhere… I 'ad teh tell'em abou' Melissa an' Messiah. For my own redemption. I didn' tell 'em abou' you, you're no' like the rest've 'em. You're good."
And I'll do anythin'
You ever dreamed to be complete
Little pieces of the nothin' that fall
The contact earns him another smile, especially as she leans towards him, the softness of the lamp light giving a porcelain appearance to her face, but she shakes her head, "I'm not good. I'm not some angel." Her eyes search his, "Melissa? Messiah? But Edgar I thought you were finding a place with them?" Her eyebrows knit tighter together.
On happier subjects though. "I only went to Florida the once," Lydia soothes. "It was short-lived," a matter of hours where she'd tried to figure out where Edgar was; when she'd just missed him. Barely missed him. And then, as a kind of concession she tilts her head, "But I would follow you. I… never want to be apart again. Ever." The smile tightens though with another shake of her head, "I know you can't visit me. You can't be caught again." The words are matter-of-fact, even in Lydia's smooth cadence.
Oh May
Put your arms around me
What you feel is what you are
And what you are is beautiful
"You're wrong Lydia, you are an angel." Edgar says gently, clapsing her hands a little tighter in his cold ones. Together they warm a little quicker, thanks to the heat provided by the lamp near them. It actually does a good job of not only giving them light but actually making the cold little shell into a cozy place.
Gazing into her dark eyes, it gives him a peaceful expression. "I don' wan'teh be caught again… bu' tha' ain't the reason why I didn' go teh see you righ' away. I's more afraid tha' they'd ge' you. I been there, I know wha' it's like… Even though I'd no' like it… I could live ou' my days in prison. Bu' you… it's no place for sum'one as close teh 'eaven as you."
Oh May
Do you wanna get married
Or run away?
"You don't belong there. I know you don't," Lydia replies quietly as she leans forward to brush her lips against his hand, her breath warm against it. "You're not who they think you are." And then even quieter she adds, "And not always who you think you are. You are kind, and gentle, and warm, and sweet," again she presses her lips to his hand, "and fun. That day we met, you made me laugh for the first time in ages. You have compassion." Her lips press together as she swallows audibly, choking back this uncontained praise that she generally holds closer than she intends. With a quiver of her lips she manages three more words, "I love you."
There's another pull of her eyebrows as she watches him, her position changing in her seat as she slides from it, positioning herself on her knees in front of him, her hands still clasped by his. She looks up at him and opens her mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out, only another tremble against her own feelings.
And I'll do anythin'
You ever dreamed to be complete
Little pieces of the nothin' that fall
He's never said the words back to her, by touching his hands she gets a much more robust definition of his feelings for her than words could ever express. There's nothing ever written that could compare to the strength of his emotions when it comes to the woman sitting with Edgar. "I — " They don't come easy, knowing what she already knows about him. "I love you too, Lydia."
It's said a little too fast and it doesn't feel right. On the surface, his emotions are laced with a worry that doesn't stretch too far down. Edgar, like Shrek, is an onion with many layers. All of them somehow involve Lydia.
Oh May
Put your arms around me
What you feel is what you are
And what you are is beautiful
Yet right now she doesn't probe, Lydia doesn't fish for more information. Even as his surface worry perplexes her, there's no effort to search for more information. But her pokerface doesn't hold up. Her expression mirrors his worry, even as she tries to push it away. Instead of fishing through his emotions, she does something more conventional than she's used to. "Is everything… alright?" There's another pause, a breath of hesitance as she considers her next words carefully, "You seem… unsettled."
Swallowing hard, her cheeks flush a brighter pink, her chin dropping to her chest as her face warms with blush. Her eyes clamp shut, tightly closing around her own thoughts, almost closing off her thoughts, ideas, and feelings. Save one. Forcing herself to look up at him, she opens her mouth again, but once more the words don't come. Her heart pounds within her chest before she clears her throat, "I…" Again the hesitation hangs in the air.
Oh May
Do you wanna get married
Or run away?
Squeezing her hands lightly, Edgar gives her a reassuring smile. "No, you misunderstood…" he says smoothly, his voice taking on that easy and lighthearted quality that it used to have, before everything came crashing down around them. "I said the words, bu' they jus' ain't enough. They don' say ev'rythin' I wan'teh say teh you." There's a surge of strong emotion that runs through him and remains, flooding away that small bit of worry that was there.
"You remember tha' one time we's practicin' you're knife throwin' outside the carnival? In the field?" It was years ago, but one of the last precious moments they'd spent alone together. Before he knew for sure how she felt, before she let herself feel anything for him. "I 'ad a ring… I lost i' when they came. It weren' nothin' fancy, bu' I wanted teh ask you.. An' I wanna ask you now, before anythin' 'appened again."
Still holding her hands in his, he slips off his chair and onto one knee in front of her.
I wanna wake up where you are
I won't say anything at all
As he speaks and the worry brushes off him, Lydia's facial features ease. Her eyebrows smooth, her jaw relaxes, and her head tilts curiously, but at the notion of a ring, a new kind of tension fixes her position. Butterflies press against her insides, fluttering within the confines of her stomach, and again, goosebumps form along her limbs, neck, and shoulders. But when he slides off his chair and onto one knee, her eyes well with tears while her lips quiver into a soft, barely there smile.
And I'll do anythin'
You ever dreamed to be complete
Little pieces of the nothin' that fall
"Lydia… I don' e'en know your full name… I don' need to. From tha' firs' nigh' we shared the orange soda, I knew tha' my fate was always in your 'ands." These words aren't as smooth and don't come out as easily, mostly because he needs to get them right the first time. There's no practice run, no do overs, this is it.
Taking a deep breath, his hands clasp tightly around both of hers and he looks down at them. His faux hawk is messy, alternately spiky and laying flat, it's obviously something that he didn't plan on doing. Not tonight anyway. Had he thought about it, he might have had a candle instead of a kerosene lamp, a bottle of wine or something instead of the nothing he had to offer. Perhaps even a ring.
With his head still bowed down, he lifts his azure eyes to meet her warm brown ones. "Lydia, would you do me the extreme 'onor of bein' my wife? I can't offer you nothin' bu' myself… I don' even know 'ow I'll take care of you… Bu' I can' think of my life withou' you in it. Ev'ry time I think tha' I've lost you forever, tha's the thing tha' kills me. No' the suppressants, no the prison… It's the thou' tha' I migh' never see you again."
And I'll do anythin'
You ever dreamed to be complete
Little pieces of the nothin' that fall
The tears that had threatened so long to fall stream down Lydia's cheeks. Her gaze softens as the butterflies continue, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. Within his grasp he can likely feel her trembling against him, her shoulders still shaking and her body a vessel of every feeling at once— an unusual state of being. There's a moment of silence that may feel like years as she lets each of the words truly sink in, but shortly thereafter her lips curl into an easier smile, even underneath the guise of her joyful tears, "Yes." The one word answer relieves all of the butterflies, and drains the tension from her body in a spill of overjoyed tears. "I can't imagine another day without you." She sniffles loudly as she leans forward to brush her lips against his, her tears moistening his cheeks.
Yeah, slide between the sheet
Of all the beds you never knew
Why don't you slide into my room
Just slide into my room
Oh, we'll run away, run away, run away