Exterior day. Two coffee shops. Man having breakfast at one, woman at the other.
W: You’re scared, aren’t you?
M: Isn’t that what women tell themselves when a guy’s not into them?
W: But you are into me.
M: Did I say I was?
W: Bruh, you’re 500 miles away and I can hear your thoughts.
M: How?
W: I don’t know. But I do know you’re scared.
M: I’m not scared of you. It’s not like you’re too much woman for me.
W: I didn’t say you were scared of me. And I know I’m not too much woman for you. I’ve seen your ex.
M: Ah yes, you were there when she and I got together. This might be petty of me, but I wanted you to be jealous.
W: I thought you had found your true love. I was over the moon you had found someone, even though we weren’t even friends. I remembered how you looked at me—I sensed you were annoyed with me, but I couldn’t hear your thoughts back then.
M: Did it really take you 25 years to hear my thoughts?
W: No. My antenna picked up your station way before then, but you already had a sponsor. How long can I milk this radio analogy?
M: Look, since this is all in our heads I’ll be honest—I do want to see you. I just wish I could skip the calling and wondering and inevitable disappointment and I’m somebody’s dad on top of all that. I mean, your life is good, right? You’re drama-free, aren’t you? Do you really want to bother with all my baggage?
W: I don’t know. You make a good point. But men are pretty good at clearing drama from their lives. I’m not so naïve as to think you couldn’t have absolute silence if you wanted it. But you’re not ready for silence. You’re not ready for what it will say.
M: Do you think your name will come up?
W: I know it will.
M: You sound awfully sure of yourself.
W: Frankly I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could go back to not being able to hear you, to not knowing there’s another level of depth I now need in a relationship because of how inexplicably deep my ties are to you. They don’t make sense. I have to pretend I’m over it, like it didn’t mean anything. Like it doesn’t mean anything and the only reason I entertain the possibility of someone else is the fact that the universe is bigger than the quark of my existence.
M: I take it you’ve never said that out loud.
W: And I never will. But back to you. I know we’re not going to be together, but it’s not because you don’t want me. It’s because you’re scared. And I know exactly what you’re scared of.
M: I thought we established that I’m not afraid of you.
W: I know you’re not. You’re afraid of the countdown.
M:…what countdown?
W: The countdown we’re all afraid of. Except we don’t know it exists until our lips meet the skin of what we think is another frog and realize it’s not. The engine that cranks and cranks, only to finally turn over. If we take the next step, the countdown begins.
M: Again, what countdown?
W: The one that counts down to when one of us dies a horrible death and leaves the other so bereft they never love again. And it doesn’t have to be cancer or murder. Just death. The realization that we’re housed in these bodies that will inevitably break down and cease to exist. And no matter how careful or fortunate we are, that soul we’ve been irrevocably fused to is going to die and take us with it. Where you find yourself hoping to die first so you won’t feel that loss.
M: Why play a game you know you’re gonna lose, better the devil you know, on and on.
W: Yeah. Right now you know where the hits will land. You’re nice and callused. It’s not the pain so much as the not knowing when it’ll hit. Will today be the day?
M: I question if the reward is worth the risk. Don’t you?
W: I used to, until I realized how much control I have over absolutely nothing. I can die at any moment regardless of my relationship status, and so can the people I care about. I realized the best I can do is tell people I care about them and make sure my actions back that up. I can’t shield you from whatever will take you away from me, but I know that you know you’ll be missed. And I would rather grieve your loss than have you go through life not knowing that.
M: No matter what you do, you take a risk. But you have to admit it’s easier to talk about pain when you’re not in pain. If only we could live in whatever weird place this is. Or maybe I’m the guy before your guy—the last lesson before you meet whatever’s just outside of your experience.
W: When my antenna picks up another station. In the meantime, I’m okay in this place. I can’t seem to kick you out, but if you go I won’t make you stay. You’ll go when you go.
Three perfect strangers.
