Act I
Samantha Duly met Graham Coolidge at a posh little club called Hypnotique during her last year of college. It was total infatuation at first glance. In that January of 1998, she walked in and immediately saw him standing slouched up on the stage, his trumpet almost haphazardly dangling at his side. Every wayward note from the piano, upright bass and drums swirled and warbled all around him, as he waited seemingly indifferent for his next turn to blow. He was wearing a white v-neck undershirt tucked into a pair of pleated gabardine dress slacks and sporting black and white wingtips. The bar was dark and swanky, total ultra-modern kitsch. Up until that moment: the guy, the club, the music, over and beyond the entire scene and vibe was completely lost on Samantha. But after eyeing the beatnik Adonis onstage, there was a sort of kismet non-sequitur in her reality; she would shed her squareness like a cocoon and metamorphose into whatever he wanted her to be. Something all together different.
Samantha had hit the ground running after graduation. She landed a job as a researcher at a notable publishing house. In only a few shorts years she had worked herself into the position of Managing Editor. She had already advanced further in her her career at 25 than she had imagined she would by 30. Professionally her future was wide open. She had even begun to entertain the idea of advancing to a director’s role in the next several years. She figured why not, she was already five years ahead of schedule. And most importantly, her job would lay the groundwork for her and Graham to build a family together.
Graham had dropped out of college after a year and a half. He had initially wanted to pursue a Masters In Music. The Gen Eds had bored him though and he quickly lost interest. He just wanted to play his horn in a band. He wanted to be great. He wanted to be Chet Baker. And he was really good too. The kind of good that far too often gets a man in trouble though. The worst kind of good. Good enough to dream big, but not quite good enough to cross the threshold of greatness. A man that good might spend the rest of his life standing on the precipice, staring out across to the summit, dumbfounded and in denial that he is unable to traverse the gap. A man that good may one day find himself on his deathbed, drawing his last few breaths, still not accepting that it was always simply out of reach.
By late summer of 2001, Samantha and Graham’s relationship, after many highs and lows, had sputtered out. This sent Samantha into a deep depression. She was so sure that Graham was her soulmate. Without him she didn’t know who she was. She had defined her entire life, if not entire existence by him. And she couldn’t help but believe that Graham needed her too. She believed in him; believed that he could achieve his dream of being a full-time musician. She wanted nothing more than to support him in doing just that.
The night they broke up Graham and Samantha had gone to the movies to see a horror film called Jeepers Creepers. Samantha loved scary movies. Graham merely tolerated them. They had grabbed a quick bite before the show. The conversation had been stilted, as it had been for the last several weeks. Samantha tried to not let it bother her. She told herself that it was a lull in their relationship. And whatever was going on was nothing like the obstacles they had already navigated. After the credits rolled, Samantha was excited. She loved the film and she kept talking about it. She hadn’t seen a good horror movie in a long time and this was definitely going on her top ten list. “Let’s a grab drink,” she said. “It’s still early. We haven’t been out in awhile.” Graham acquiesced with barely a visible shrug. At the bar, they sat at a little round hightop table. Samantha was drinking some cocktail she spied on the menu that was made with Chambord, brut champagne, muddled raspberries and a fresh sprig of mint. Graham was drinking his usual, a Stoli gimlet.
“I don’t know what you see in me.” Graham finally said.
“What? Why would you say that?” She asked, caught off guard and confused.
“Come on. Take a step back, Sam. Look at us. Look at me. Our relationship.” With his elbows on the table, he rested his forehead in the palms of his hands. “If you’d be honest with yourself, you would have to admit you’re treading water.”
Focusing only on her drink, she asked “How am I treading water?”
“With me, I mean. You’re wasting your time with me. With us.” He said.
Samantha, continuing to stare at her drink, shook her head. “I disagree.”
“Of course you do, you’re an optimist.” Graham poked at the ice in his empty drink with a swizzle stick, before harpooning the lime wedge at the bottom of the glass. “I’m so proud of you, Sam. I really am. You manifest your destiny unlike anyone I’ve ever known. But you can't manifest mine. And I don’t want you to. I’m not going to be your pet project.”
Samantha sighed and reached for Graham’s hand. Over the next half hour or so there was of course more back and forth, pleading and negotiation. Eventually it became clear to Samantha that this was what Graham wanted, he no longer saw a future for them.
It was only two months later after a Halloween gig at a popular pub that Graham had an epiphany. He walked off the stage that night feeling unfulfilled and absent. A young woman who had been frequenting his shows was sitting at the bar. She had a Stoli gimlet waiting for him. She handed him his drink and said, “I propose a toast!”
“A toast to what?” Graham asked.
“I had my period!” The young woman exclaimed.
A weight was lifted off Graham’s shoulders. This was the best news he could have received. He had only just met this woman several weeks before, not long after he and Samantha broke up. The girl had started showing up to all of his shows. She had sought him out, showered him with compliments and hung all over him. They had only slept together a few times. This attention had the opposite effect on Graham, instead of making him feel wanted and desired, he felt even more painfully alone. The young woman had called him up unexpectedly four or five days before that evening and told him that she was late. All-at-once Graham felt that his future was potentially over. He was not a religious man, but he prayed half a dozen times that the good Lord would not make him a father. And so it was this mishap that directly lead to the epiphany:
I’ll never be famous. I’ll always be a gig musician playing small clubs, sleeping with random women. I’ll drink too much and grow old. I may not have gotten this girl pregnant, but I’ll inevitably knock up another one. Maybe I’ll have several illegitimate kids. I’ll be a deadbeat dad being pursued by three different moms all wanting child support. The best future I had was with Sam. She loved me. She really loved me. And she wanted to take care of me. She is the only person who can save me from myself. I have to get her back.
Graham knew that a consequential gesture was required. Simply telling Sam that he had made a mistake was not enough. They weren’t young and naive anymore, they were adults who deserved commitment, not simply empty promises. He needed to show her that he was serious. He needed to come back to her with a marriage proposal.
Graham went to the jewelers. He eyeballed the promissory bands through the glass cases. His heart sunk lower and lower as he observed the prices. Even the most basic and plain ring was far beyond his means. He thought about his options, of which there were not many. It then occurred to him that he could hock his trumpet at a pawn shop. And so that’s exactly what he set out to do.
Digby’s Pawn Shop on E. Third Street was a place where hopes and sentiment were bartered, sold or put on hold for a quarter of their value. Dreams stuck up on a shelf and held for ransom in purgatory. Sometimes the owner came back to reclaim them, sometimes they didn’t. Graham had gone there intending to sell his instrument. This he thought would be symbolic of his willingness to make Samantha his number one passion, his greatest desire and to never put his music above or before her. Upon walking into Digby’s though, he found he didn’t quite have the resolve to part with his trumpet. Instead, he saw the jewelry displayed behind the counter. He asked the clerk to see the rings. Among the offerings there was one modest diamond ring priced at a somewhat financially feasible amount. This ring that Graham found was one of those aforementioned items, unclaimed and abandoned, forever lost. And for the price, it was scarcely more substantial than anything he could have otherwise afforded. And too, Graham thought, Samantha doesn’t have to know it was used. All he needed to do was take the ring to the jewelers to have the diamond reset. And when it was ready, it sparkled and shimmered as if it had just been freshly plucked from the display case.
When Samantha heard from Graham her heart swelled. For the last two months she had been in total agony. She hated that one person could hold so much power over her, and yet she wanted nothing more than to be him, to be held by him, or to simply go the grocery store with him. It was after all the small things that she missed so desperately, the errands and the chores; those little to-dos that are really just excuses to spend the day together. And she so missed having reasons to be with him. As much as she wanted to turn down his invitation, as much as she wanted to learn to stand on her own two feet and not be the girl who was always waiting by the phone, she just couldn’t say no. He had rung her up and asked her to go on a hike with him at their favorite trail. He had told her that there were some things he wanted to talk to her about.
It was on a somewhat warm Saturday in November that Graham and Samantha met at the park. It was at first awkward and the conversation clumsy. But at the same time, the two felt like halves made whole again. And although they had lost their rhythm, their familiarity and affinity toward one another was still there, if only beneath the surface. Well into their walk the path narrowed before ascending a rather steep incline. As the hikers rounded the bend at the top of the hill, out before them stretched a long row of Osage-orange trees that formed a hedge along one side of the trail. The trees’ gnarly branches naturally bowed and coiled into an archway above them. Rays of sunlight ribboned between the canopied boughs and limbs onto the path, which on this particular day was blanketed in autumn yellow, red and orange leaves. Among the picturesque, fairy-tale setting Graham had stopped, looking intently and purposeful at Samantha.
“What is it?” She asked.
Graham’s eyes were piercing, they alone tried to communicate his thoughts and feelings. “I was wrong, Sam.” He said.
“Wrong about what?” She asked.
“About everything.” His words sounded like a confession. “I thought my dreams would drag you down. I thought you would always put me first while I made you second to my music. But I was wrong. I would never play my trumpet again if it meant I could have you for the rest of my life.”
“I would never ask you to do that.” She said.
“I know you wouldn’t.” He said as he began to kneel before her on one knee.
Samantha’s eyes widened.
“Samantha Duly,” he said with a little felt case opened and a sun sparkled diamond flickering inside, “will you allow me to do right by you and make you my wife?”
There was no moment of consideration. The neurons in Samantha’s brain fired instantly and before she knew it the word yes had escaped from her mouth. Graham stood up from the golden pathway and the two kissed for what seemed like eternity.
It is here that we learn about a very special ability Samantha possesses. An extrasensory perception that allows her to see and experience the memories of others simply by touching an inanimate object. In this case, it was the engagement ring that Graham slipped onto her finger that caused her to see—through her mind’s eye—a woman crying. At first Samantha was startled, before she understood that what she was experiencing was one of her visions. This was an ability she had off and on her entire life. Although, at that moment, it had not happened for many years. The last time she had experienced it was in high school, nearly a decade before. This ability she had learned she shared with her maternal grandmother, who called the power of second sight token-object reading.
In the vision, Samatha saw a woman standing in a dingy kitchen. She could feel how upset the woman was as she looked at her child, a boy no older than seven sitting at a breakfast table with a bowl of cereal in front of him. The woman was upset because there was no milk to pour over the shredded wheat. She could feel the woman’s desperation. The woman had no money. She was scared. She turned away so her child wouldn’t see her crying. Through the doorway the woman now looked at her husband sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette and watching television. Samantha could feel the woman’s tears on her own cheeks. The woman looked down at her left hand and began fiddling with her ring. Samantha recognized the diamond, and although the setting was different it was the same diamond that was now in her engagement ring.
Graham told Samantha that he had been saving up a long time to buy her a ring, but had second guessed himself. Samantha knew the story about the ring was a lie, that the ring had actually been pawned. But she believed the other part. She believed that Graham had in fact second guessed himself, but was now ready to make an honest commitment. So what if he couldn’t afford a new ring and bought one at a pawn shop instead? She thought. He still wants to marry me. That’s all that really matters. In the middle of the path hedged in Osage-orange trees, Samantha admired the diamond on her hand. Her diamond. “It’s beautiful,” she said to Graham. “You picked out the perfect ring.”
Act II
Samantha had been best friends with Leslie Hemelgarn since the 3rd Grade. It was on a field trip to an aquarium during lunch when Leslie gave Samantha one of her Hostess chocolate cupcakes. The two girls assumed it was destiny that they be friends based on how they both ate their cupcakes the exact same way, by first picking off the white squiggly icing on top and then pulling the cupcake apart and licking out the icing inside.
“Do you want to be my best friend?” Samantha had excitedly asked with a mouthful of cupcake.
“Oh my god, yes!” Leslie shouted.
And that was it, they became life-long best friends. They also never missed an opportunity to tell that story to anyone who would listen, friends and strangers alike. Therefore it was obvious who Samantha’s maid of honor in her wedding would be, Leslie Hemelgarn.
It had been nearly a year since Graham proposed to Samantha. In that time they moved into a condo together that Sam bought. They set a date for their wedding and Samantha would spend the next several months planning their big day. It would be a modest affair with a guest list of no more than 125 people, give or take. Because Samantha’s parents were active in their church, Good Shepherd Lutheran on Sycamore Street was chosen as the venue. The reception would be at Meadowlark Country Club. The wedding would be held on Saturday, October 19th at 3pm.
Several weekends before the wedding, on dreary and rainy Sunday afternoon, Leslie hosted Samantha’s bridal shower at the Britishly swish Crummles Tea Room. It was a somewhat formal affair where the attendees, all family and friends, wore Victorian-era dresses with tiny, colorful hats or decorative fascinators. Finger sandwiches and mini quiches were served for brunch. Afterward the ladies were treated to a variety of tarts, fairy cakes and cookies, all ornately arranged on serving platters with daintily elegant teacups.
They of course played the traditional shower games, both hokey and sentimental, such as charades, couples’ trivia and bridal bingo. When they finished, it was time for Samantha to open her gifts. And so the women all retired to the sitting room in the back, where they sat around the guest of honor in stylish velvet couches and armchairs.
No sooner than Samantha opened her first gift the peculiarities began. As with the engagement ring, Samantha, with her ability of second sight began experiencing visions. But for the first time in her life, these visions were not of the past, but rather, they were of the future. Events having not yet transpired, but seemingly destined to come to fruition. With each present (homonym intended) that she opened, her preordained fate began to sharpen, coming more and more into focus.
What follows is a list of the gifts Samantha received and their accompanied prognostications:
Crystal Picture Frame from Aunt Sylvie
Samantha walks into she and Graham’s bedroom. Standing next to the dresser she takes off her earrings and places them into her jewelry box. Placing one hand on the dresser she kicks up her leg and slips off a heel, followed by the other. She sighs deeply. It’s been a long day and she still has to get dinner on. She opens a drawer and pulls out a pair of jogging pants. Unbuttoning her dress slacks, she shimmies out of them, before slipping on the much more comfortable cotton ones. As she unbuttons her blouse she notices that her wedding photo is facedown on the dresser. She places the crystal frame upright. This isn’t the first time she has found the picture facedown on the dresser. Her heart sinks. She tries to stop herself from thinking the worst.
Hand-Knitted Blanket from Granny Dot
It’s late. Samantha is laying on the couch in the living room watching an old movie on television in the dark. She’s wrapped up in her favorite blanket. The movie is Roman Holiday starring Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. Samantha loves this movie. She hears the front door being unlocked. She pauses the movie. Graham walks in.
“Well, hello.” She says.
“What are you still doing up?” He asks.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you lately.” She says. “I wanted to stay up and see how your show went? Are you liking this new band you’re playing with any better?”
“I don’t know. The set was okay.” He says. "Not much of a crowd.”
“Are you hungry?” She asks. “I can fix you a little something.”
“No.” He says.
“In that case, you want to lay on the couch with me and watch Roman Holiday?” She asks, pulling up the knitted blanket inviting him to snuggle up.
“No. I’m tired. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.” He says this as he disappears into the bedroom. Samantha hears the bathroom door close behind him, followed by the sound of running water.
She regrets having stayed up.
Silk Negligée from Michelle Higgins
Samantha is standing in a hotel bathroom looking at herself in the mirror. She is wearing the pale pink negligée. She likes the way the delicate and wispy fabric feels against her skin. She puckers her lips and applies a fresh layer of lipstick. She then turns slightly to the left, barely pulls up the bottom of the slip, exposing the profile of her derrière in order to admire it’s round, perky plumpness. She always felt that although she wasn’t chesty, she did have a great butt. Letting the fabric fall, she twirls around to quickly catch all her sides in the mirror. Yes, she thinks, Graham will find this quite sexy. She opens the bathroom door and steps out like she is stepping onto a stage. Graham is no longer laying on the bed. She looks around and sees him standing out on the balcony talking on his mobile phone. She waits for several minutes. Finally Graham appears to hang up. He opens the sliding glass door. Samantha once again strikes a seductive pose. Her husband’s eyes scan her up and down with a look of indifference.
“What are you doing?” He asks.
“Offering myself to you.” She says, flirtatiously.
“I’m not in the mood, Sam” He says as he brushes by her. “Get dressed and lets go get a drink down at the hotel bar.”
Samantha feels embarrassed, foolish and ashamed.
Charcuterie Board from Gretchen Benowitz
There appears to have been a get together of some sort. Samantha is standing in the kitchen of their condo. There are trays and bowls strewn about on the marbled top of the island, as well as a half eaten charcuterie spread of cured meats and cheeses. Samantha has begun to place dirty dishes and glasses in the sink for washing. Graham walks in.
“I can’t find my car keys.” He says.
“Your car keys? Are you going somewhere?” She asks.
Graham, as if offended, says, “Yeah, Sam, I told you I’m meeting up with Dave.”
“Well, first,” she begins, “I don’t ever recall you telling me you were meeting up with Dave. Second, I’m sure you see this mess in the kitchen. So, it would be nice if you stayed and helped me clean up.”
Graham huffs. “This was your party. I told you I didn’t want to have people over. But you just had to do it. Well, here you go, now you have a kitchen to clean up. Notice none of your so-called friends stuck around to help.”
“How about my so-called husband sticks around to help?” She says, throwing a dish towel at him. “And you made it very clear you didn’t want anyone over. No doubt that’s why everyone left so early. You were so standoffish with everyone today.”
“I wasn’t being standoffish.”Graham grabs his jacket from the back of the living room chair. “I just didn’t have anything to say to those people.”
“Those people?” Samantha mimically asks.
Graham reaches into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulls out his keys. “Yeah, those people.” He repeats. “Your friends are so fucking boring.”
“How dare you speak to me that way, Graham!” She shouts and stomps her foot.
“God damn, lower your voice. The neighbors are going to come over and check on us again. I’m leaving. I’m going over to Dave’s.” He says as he walks towards the door.
“Yeah, I bet you’re going to Dave’s.” Samantha mutters.
Graham stops. “What did you say?” He asks.
Samatha rolls her eyes and then shakes her head. “I said, I know you’re not really going to see Dave. I know who she is.”
Graham stares coldly at his wife for a long minute. “Good. I was getting tired of this sneaking around shit.”
“So was I.” She says, having now confirmed what she desperately didn’t want to know.
Silver Candlestick Holders from Christine Coolidge
Graham and Samantha are standing in the dining room. Graham has a duffel bag over his shoulder and a packed suitcase at his feet. Samantha is unable to look at him as tears stream down her face.
“I don’t know why you’re crying.” His tone is both cruel and aloof. “You’re the one who filed for the disillusion.”
“I’m crying because you broke my heart.” She says through labored breaths and tearful heaves.
“Well, look around you at your consolation prize. You get our condo and everything in it. All I have are these two bags.”
Samantha is confused as to how someone who claimed to have loved her could be so callous, so unmerciful. Against her better judgment, say says, “It’s hardly a consolation prize, Graham. This is all my stuff. I paid for all of it.”
Graham laughs. “I bet you love telling people that. How you took care of me. Poor Graham,” he scoffs, “he’s completely dependent on Samantha.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not what I meant.” She says.
“Yes it is!” He bites back. “That’s exactly what you fucking meant. Whatever. I guess you’ll have to find someone else to try and mother. I don’t need you. I already have a mom.”
“Fine.” She’s says, just wanting him to leave.
“Speaking of my mom,” he says, “didn’t she give us these?” He reaches over and grabs the two silver candlestick holders off the dining room table.
“Yes. They were a wedding present.” She says.
“How about that? I guess I’m not leaving here completely empty handed after all.” He unzips his duffel bag and shoves them inside. “Now I have a consolation prize, too.”
Ceramic Floral Print Tea Set from Leslie Hemelgarn
It was the last vision that proved the most beguiling. By the time Samantha had opened all but one gift at her bridal shower, she had been shattered into a thousand pieces and trying so hard to hide it. All of her hopes and dreams for she and Graham’s future had been stolen from her by the memories of all that was to come. What was the point now of going forward? The pomp and circumstance would all be in vain.
“Go on, Sam, open mine.” Leslie said, impatiently.
Reluctantly the bride-to-be undid the bow and pulled at the paper.
“I wanted to get something just for you.” Leslie said. “I wanted something that would always remind you of this bridal shower.”
Tears began running down Samantha’s cheeks. To the gathered crowd of women, it was perceived that this present had obviously moved the bride to tears. They did not know that she instead grieved the end before it had even begun.
But then the last vision revealed itself.
Samantha sits on the floor in a strange house. She pulls a tea set out of a box where it had been packed. She unwraps the teapot, the cups and the saucers from newspaper. She feels hesitant for some reason. She wonders if maybe she should get rid of it. Perhaps donate it to an antique shop.
Suddenly she feels a warm hand on her shoulder. She looks up to see a man standing above her. She has never seen this man before. He is a stranger. And yet in the vision she knows him. Knows him unlike anyone she has ever known before. His eyes look down into hers. She feels seen by him. No one has cared for her like this man cares for her. Nor has she ever cared so deeply for another.
“That’s a very pretty tea set.” The man says. “Where did you get it?”
Samantha doesn’t want to tell him. But she would never keep anything from him. “I was actually just sitting here thinking I should give it away.”
“Why would you do that?” He asks.
“It was a gift from Leslie. A wedding gift actually.” She admits. “Back when I was getting married to Graham. It would probably be a bad omen to keep it in our house.”
The man laughs. “That’s silly. Of course it wouldn’t. It’s too pretty to give away. It matters where things come from. Maybe not always in the way we think. But your past is your story to tell. And you’ve told yours to me. You never need to hide yourself from me, Samantha. It was a long road we both walked to find each other. You should display this tea set somewhere in the house. It’ll remind us both of the distance we’ve traveled. And most importantly, it will be a reminder that all that once was is here now under our roof.”
Holding the teapot in her hands, occupying two separate realities, simultaneously at the bridal shower and in her vision of the future, again Samantha cried. In her vision the tears would one day be of contentment. But in that moment, they were bittersweet, because she knew in order to find this man—whoever he is—she would have to endure what we all must endure, the joy and the triumphs, as well as the heartaches and pain of the distance traveled.
The End
“And he was really good too. The kind of good that far too often gets a man in trouble though. The worst kind of good. Good enough to dream big, but not quite good enough to cross the threshold of greatness. A man that good might spend the rest of his life standing on the precipice, staring out across to the summit,[ . . . .]”