Participants:
| Scene Title | Ghost Whisperer |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A ghost and her best friend walk through Central Park, reminiscing about their unique situation. |
| Date | October 14, 2010 |
Central Park has been, and remains, a key attraction in New York City, both for tourists and local residents. Though slightly smaller, approximately 100 acres at its southern end scarred by and still recovering from the explosion, the vast northern regions of the park remain intact.
An array of paths and tracks wind their way through stands of trees and swathes of grass, frequented by joggers, bikers, dog-walkers, and horsemen alike. Flowerbeds, tended gardens, and sheltered conservatories provide a wide array of colorful plants; the sheer size of the park, along with a designated wildlife sanctuary add a wide variety of fauna to the park's visitor list. Several ponds and lakes, as well as the massive Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, break up the expanses of green and growing things. There are roads, for those who prefer to drive through; numerous playgrounds for children dot the landscape.
Many are the people who come to the Park - painters, birdwatchers, musicians, and rock climbers. Others come for the shows; the New York Shakespeare Festival at the Delacorte Theater, the annual outdoor concert of the New York Philharmonic on the Great Lawn, the summer performances of the Metropolitan Opera, and many other smaller performing groups besides. They come to ice-skate on the rink, to ride on the Central Park Carousel, to view the many, many statues scattered about the park.
Some of the southern end of the park remains buried beneath rubble. Some of it still looks worn and torn, struggling to come back from the edge of destruction despite everything the crews of landscapers can do. The Wollman Rink has not been rebuilt; the Central Park Wildlife Center remains very much a work in progress, but is not wholly a loss. Someday, this portion of Central Park just might be restored fully to its prior state.
It's late afternoon in New York City. Fall has descended, but the last remnants of summer remain, leaving a blanket of warmth across the New York landscape. As such, New Yorkers and tourists alike flock to Central Park. It's in this that the dark auburn haired Samara Dunham strolls beside her best friend. "Holy crap! Did you like see that guy? I'm pretty sure I've never seen anyone move like that — he was all" she takes a step forward "and then that girl was all" she takes a step back "and I was all, 'What up my homie? You ain't nevah gonna get the girl like that'," she snaps three times in the air like she's got attitude before correcting herself. "Except not. Because I'm not thug."
With a large toothy grin she twists in spot to face her friend, "We should go dancing tonight! I love dancing, it's so fun! And sometimes, sometimes a girl just has to 'Whoo!'" she flippantly waves a hand, "You know what I mean."
Just ahead of the women, is a small clearing including a bike path and a bench on which to sit.
Rue can't help but laugh at the way her best friend flails and gestures and mimics people in the park. She lifts one hand to her ear, and the baby pink Bluetooth earpiece settled there. A practised habit for talking to someone no one else can see. "You've got soul, girl," she teases.
The ginger's sparkling blue gaze doesn't linger long on Samara, making her glances fleeting. "You're just lucky you can get into the clubs with me. Doesn't it ever get boring? The crush of people and… You know?" Not being tangible. Rue meanders over to the bench and takes a seat in the middle, leaving Samara the edge next to her.
"What can I say, I like to dance?" Sami shoots Rue a dimpled grin as she slides(?) next to her friend. Her lips curl into an easy smile, "Besides, I get to watch people when they don't think they're being watched." The smile lingers a few moments, until she quite literally slips through the bench, drawing a sigh and shake of her head; she's been like this for years, but even now, sitting on surfaces can, sometimes, be problematic. With a quiet hmmm, she stands again, just askew of the bench, "I think I need to work on my sitting. Or hovering. Or… whatever it is I do." She shrugs as the smile wins out again.
Yet Sami isn't watching, and hadn't noticed a skateboarder on a trajectory course with her, but instead of knocking her over, he boards right through her; he'd never seen her in the first place, intangibility has its merits and disadvantages.
"I wish people would sneeze or get cold when they pass through me."
Rue's hand comes up to cover her mouth, and her laughter, when Sami slips right on through the bench. "I thought you'd gotten better at that," she murmurs. To a bystander, she's likely watching the way the leaves of a tree in the distance sway in the breeze. Closer examination would show her eyes fixed on a distance too close for that, however.
Instinctively, Rue cringes when the skateboarder goes rolling right through Samara. "Jeez. That never ceases to scare me." She smiles faintly. Her friend knows that she hopes it never does. Cease to scare her, that is. That she never becomes completely comfortable with the idea that Samara is a ghost. Or whatever one calls what Samara is.
Shuffling back to the edge of the seat, Samara concentrates and manages to sit on the bench now, grinning broadly as she manages to do so. "Yeah. Sometimes I still freak out. One time I followed this guy down the block after he walked through me, like somehow he could help it. It's sometimes hard that people can't see me, but someday, when I cross over, then everyone will see me and I will eat ice cream everyday without gaining a pound." There are few things of which Sami is certain; this is one of them. Her voice quiets considerably, "Mostly…" she side glances her friend, only to look down at the fall leaves, "mostly I feel badly for you."
She crosses her ankles before turning her head to look squarely at Rue, "Lanny, is it hard that no one else sees me? I mean, that they don't really see me?"
It's a tough question. It's one they've addressed before in the nearly four years since Samara's death, but always something they've danced around. Rue looks down at her lap, picking at her blue jeans with bright flowers and peace signs embroidered along the legs in vivid colours. "Sometimes," she admits. "But I'm the only one who can. And you're my best friend. So… It's just something I get used to. I'm glad we have each other. The idea of you wandering around with no one to help you makes me feel worse than the idea of one little break-up."
Quinnie.
It's the one loss that Rue really regrets, stemming from her honesty about her ability to see and hear and communicate with the dead. "It's no big deal. I don't have it near as bad as you."
Samara's chin drops slightly, aiming to gaze at herself, half-expecting her body to have disappeared in the midst of the conversation. Her cheeks flush a light pink while her lips twitch in a sad attempt to smile; she feels badly for how things happened with Quinn. "I'm sorry about that — " her eyes, forehead, and nose crinkle into a scowl like she's smelled something foul, " — Like she should judge anyways. You are a catch, darling~ You are the most gorgeous, fabulous, patient, smartest, most awesomest woman I have eeeeeeeever met! I bet you anything she will Rue the day she broke up with you!"
Her nose wrinkles at the notion of having it bad, "Honestly? I think the worst of it was the funeral. And watching Mom deal with it. She didn't take it so well." Her lips press together into a thin line while she shakes her head. "And… those other regrets on my bucket list. Like never getting drunk… can't really happen if I can't drink anything."
"It's not your fault," Rue insists. She reaches over to rest her hand over Samara's. She lifts her head to offer a quick smile, but then goes back to staring down at where their hands touch. It's too awkward to outside observation if she holds eye contact with Samara while they talk in public. She does want to, but they've gotten used to the way that she can't.
"Yeah," she agrees, "your mom was pretty broken up. I saw Your-Brother-The-Jock cry, too. And that was just weird." Rue makes a little face to show just how weirded-out she still is. "And really, getting drunk isn't the greatest." Though she's proclaimed it is at the time more than once. "You've seen me leaned over the toilet and puking my guts out so many times. You don't really want to do that, do you?" But she keeps doing it to herself.
"Except it was," Sami mutters with a quiet sigh, but the hand on her hand earns Rue a warm smile. "You're my only real friend. Sometimes I wish I'd meet another Ghost Whisperer, only so I'd have someone else to talk to." Two prominent dimples crater her cheeks as she tilts her head at Rue, "But don't worry. You will always be first in my heart."
The notion of Tahir crying gets little more than an, "Ew. Soldiers aren't supposed to feel anything, right? Like aren't they trained to feel nothing? Or wait. Maybe I'm getting soldiers confused with jedis? I mean I was never really into that science fiction stuff, although I totally regret that now! Can you imagine how helpful that would've been to us now?! But… wait… what was I talking about? Oh yes! Tahir! I swear that boy needs a talking to."
Rue presses her lips together to stifle a giggle as Samara begins comparing soldiers and Jedi Knights. Her shoulders quake to give her away however. "You are such a goof," she says quietly with a grin and a roll of her eyes. "C'mon. Let's go home so we can gossip about your brother in private. I want to get animated about this." Standing up from the bench, she makes a small motion to tug Sami up with her and starts back on the path.
