Arrow Rock Literary Journal

[The man, John, sits alone in a dim apartment. He nurses half a cup of coffee, piping hot. He stares straight ahead. Rain fall heavy against the windows, and the room is faintly lit with small lighting flashes every few minutes. Car horns honk outside and the rumble of thunder vibrates the bookshelves lined against the wall. John at the center is silent and still.]

[The apartment door swings open, the hinges screaming. The woman, Daphne, stomps in, slamming the door behind her with a force that may very well have shot a crack through the old, brittle wood. Her hair and dress are soaked through and she holds a broken umbrella. She shakes it aggressively in a useless attempt to dry it before tossing it to the ground.]

DAPHNE: Great, John. Amazing.

JOHN: Want some coffee?

DAPHNE: I mean, really John. You couldn’t have stuck it out? Couldn’t just grin and bear it for one more hour?

JOHN: It’s still hot.

[Daphne paces around the room, seemingly unable to decide on whether to sit or stand.]

DAPHNE: I knew I’d find you right here too.

JOHN: (Looking down at his mug) I could use some more.

DAPHNE: Did you ever think, you know, ‘Maybe, just maybe I should see this through? Maybe I should just suck it up for Daph because this is the one thing she asked of me…’

JOHN: (Casually) Maybe some vodka…

DAPHNE: I just don’t get it, John. Really I don’t.

JOHN: (Under his breath) You don’t?

DAPHNE: Oh now we’re listening.

JOHN: I’ve been listening, Daphne.

DAPHNE: Have you? Oh, okay, so tell me then. What exactly did you hear when I said ‘Tonight is really important to me John. I really need to make a good impression John. My future may be entirely dependent on this one dinner John.’ What exactly did you gather from that conversation? That you should show up ten minutes late in sneakers—

JOHN: There was traffic I told you—

DAPHNE: Order an obscene amount of food—

JOHN: I haven’t eaten all day—

DAPHNE: Then storm out in front of the entire restaurant before the desserts were even served.

JOHN: Only because he—

DAPHNE: And leave me to explain away your crap like I always do…

[She attempts to wrench her heels from her feet. She struggles, they’re more than a bit too small.]

DAPHNE: …and walk home in the rain in these stupid shoes.

[She frees one foot, nearly falling over in the process. She stables herself and sets the shoe on the ground before starting on the next one.]

JOHN: Would you just—

DAPHNE: I’m not finished!

[The second shoe comes loose, only this time the force sends Daphne toppling backward. She takes a shaking, seething breath in and slams the shoe down directly next to its twin.]

JOHN: Daph—

DAPHNE: No.

JOHN: Daphne I’m sorry.

DAPHNE: Sorry? You’re sorry?

JOHN: Yes, I am alright.

[Daphne picks herself up off the floor, as smoothly as she can.]

DAPHNE: You completely humiliate me and “sorry” is all you have to say? I can’t believe after embarrassing me like that you would have the gall to—

JOHN: Embarrassing you?

DAPHNE: Yes!

JOHN: No! No okay, look. I get that this guy is some sort of fancy-schmancy PhD museum prick—

DAPHNE: He’s the director of—

JOHN: Doesn’t matter! He’s a joke, Daphne. He insulted my intelligence. In front of you and God and the goddamn wine guy—

DAPHNE: (agitatedly) The sommelier.

JOHN: Whatever. He sat there with that stupid look on his face and tried to make me feel like an idiot because I have a bachelor’s degree. I mean, seriously? Just because I didn’t spend over a decade of my life studying Monet or da Vinci or fucking Michaelangelo doesn’t mean I’m entirely incapable of intelligent thought. But no, this asshole sat there talking down to me like I had the brain capacity of a fingernail the entire time—

DAPHNE: Oh, come on—

JOHN: (Standing) And you let him!

DAPHNE: John!

JOHN: No! It’s my turn now. I tried to put up with it. For you. I sat there and smiled and nodded so damn politely while that pompous waste of space tore me to shreds. And you know what? I was going to stay. For you. Because I knew this stupid dinner with this stupid guy was important to you. I would’ve let him make fun of me all night long if it made you happy. But I will not sit there and let him question my place as your partner. Because that… that is embarrassing.

[Daphne backs away, crossing her arms over her chest. Stillness returns for a moment.]

JOHN: (Quietly) Why didn’t you say anything?

DAPHNE: What?

JOHN: When he asked why you were with me? When he said he just couldn’t understand why you would bring yourself down to my level? Why did you let him?

DAPHNE: (Softly) I… I didn’t… I don’t—

JOHN: Jesus Daphne, what? Do you agree with him?

DAPHNE: No!

JOHN: You do. You think you’re above me too. You always have.

DAPHNE: (She grits her teeth, a thread snaps) That’s not true and you know it!

JOHN: (A shout) Do I?

[A long silence follows.]

JOHN: (Quietly, and with a sigh. He is tired.) Alright Daph.

[John walks over to the front door.]

DAPHNE: John.

[He takes the broken umbrella from the ground]

DAPHNE: Don’t be stupid, John.

[John opens the door.]

DAPHNE: If you walk out that door—

JOHN: Sorry I embarrassed you. Good luck with the job.

[He exits without looking back.]

DAPHNE: John!

[Daphne scrambles to the floor. She desperately tries to put her shoes back on, but they won’t fit. No matter how hard she shoves, they never make it past the heel. She tries to stand with them half-way on, but just falls straight back down. She cannot make it to the door. Daphne crumbles.]

DAPHNE: Damnit!

END SCENE

---

Holly Burchett is an undergraduate student at Lindenwood University majoring in Creative Writing with minors in both Theatre and Art History. She has been previously published in the 16th edition of the Arrow Rock Literary Journal with her short story “Alligator”. Holly finds great joy in bringing a story to life, whether that be in prose, poetry, or on the stage.