Once I Was a Laurel Advisor

A Ten-Minute Play

This month, Wayfare is delighted to present the three winners of our second annual ten-minute play competition. Congratulations to our first-place winner, Marianne Hales. "Once I was a Laurel Advisor" will be performed at the Faith Matters Restore conference. Learn more and get your tickets here.

At rise: two middle-aged women sit in camp chairs on a hot afternoon. They don’t talk. After a period of time, they do.

JANIE: I’m tired of being alone.

AL: What am I? Chopped beef?

JANIE: Chopped liver.

AL: Don’t correct my charming idioms.

JANIE: Don’t be charming when I’m melancholy.

AL: Don’t be melancholy when I’m charming. You’ll scare the Young Women.

JANIE: They should know. They should enter the world with eyes wide open.

AL: We do need more cynical teens.

JANIE: Not cynical. Aware. Braced. Not thinking romance is as easy as eighth grade graduation.

AL: You had a graduation for eighth grade?

JANIE: It’s a milestone.

AL: So you’re thinking of a panel of divorced women for the next activity?

JANIE: And widows.

AL: And old maids.

JANIE: Language!

AL: And sweet spirits.

JANIE: Why did I accept this calling? All of these chipper children who think the world owes them a happy ending.

AL: The world does.

JANIE: Then the world is heavily in debt.

AL: The world owes you a happy ending. And a happy middle.

JANIE: Super not true.

AL: You don’t find their energy refreshing?

JANIE: As refreshing as a fire hose. At least in Relief Society the cheerfulness is tempered by aging and sleep deprivation.

AL: We should have gone on the hike.

JANIE: Who would keep our camp chairs from flying away?

AL: God.

JANIE: Do not make me be sacrilegious.

AL: We pray. The chairs are saved. Or the ground is softened.

JANIE: Or our tushes are hardened.

AL: Exactly.

JANIE: Your object lesson needs to be workshopped.

AL: I’m going to use it next Sunday.

JANIE: Every time I look at them I want to say, “Keep your last name, don’t compromise, maintain your humanity, don’t listen to a Bishop that smooths over abuse—”

AL: Don’t let the bastards get you down.

JANIE: Now you’re going to get us both released. Keep it up.

AL: This is my favorite calling!

JANIE: You’ve eaten too many cupcakes.

AL: You can tell them all of that, you know. Even an edited version of what I said.

JANIE: I don’t believe in censoring quotes.

AL: You just want me to swear again.

JANIE: No. It offends my soul.

AL: My deepest apologies.

JANIE: I know I can say all that. No one will believe me.

AL: I do.

JANIE: Then where is your existential angst?

AL: I’m fresh out.

JANIE: I swear—

AL: Don’t swear!

JANIE: I swear there are moms who put their hands over their daughter’s ears as I walk by. Metaphorically.

AL: Glad you clarified.

JANIE: The divorcée.

AL: Better put their hands over their husband’s ears too. And eyes.

JANIE: Some of them would.

AL: Who?

JANIE: The imaginary person in my head.

AL: Oh yeah, she’s terrible. Bigoted. Sexist. Ageist. Body shaming! Doesn’t floss.

JANIE: It’s just the feeling I get. Like nobody knows how I got my foot in this trap. Or, actually, nobody wants to catch whatever contagion I’ve got.

AL: I think that’s the sister in your head again.

JANIE: No, really. They want to paint a specific picture about How Life Works and I’m a counterargument.

AL: You’re a happy little tree.

JANIE: This is a Bob Ross painting. Happy little wives. Happy little houses.

AL: And the cutest little babies.

JANIE: Yeah . . .

AL: Next fast and testimony meeting I’m going to ask for a raise of hands. (To the imaginary congregation) “It has been proposed that Sister Janie Grant is a contagion upon our congregation. All in favor?”

JANIE raises her hand.

AL cont.: Put your hand down! “Any opposed by the same sign.”

AL raises her hand.

JANIE: Come on, Al. No one will say it outright.

AL: Then it’s none of your business. Let them figure themselves out.

JANIE: You should write a book.

AL: A picture book. Baby’s First Emotional Boundary.

JANIE: When are they getting back?

AL: Maybe never. Sue Ann isn’t very good with directions.

JANIE: We’re going to be a headline. You shouldn’t have stayed with me.

AL: And miss the existential angst?

JANIE: That would be the idea. And keep the girls alive. That too.

AL: I thought I was maybe keeping you alive.

JANIE: That’s quite dramatic.

AL: I’ve been practicing.

JANIE: I’m fine. Just tired.

AL: And hot.

JANIE: Why are we camping in August???

AL: To build character.

JANIE: I have enough.

AL: Too much, really.

JANIE: My cup runneth o’er.

AL: Would you have believed you?

JANIE: Absolutely not.

AL: (in mock shock) It’s you! You’re the imaginary sister! I wondered why no one but me could hear you talk.

JANIE: I’m the ghost of the first year who died at this very campsite.

AL: That we’ve never used before this year.

JANIE: Irrelevant.

AL: And what message do you have for us? What keeps you tethered to this earth?

JANIE: (spooky ghost voice) Keeeeeep youuuurrrr laaaaaast naaaaaaame.

AL: (similar spooky voice) And donnnn’t lettt the bleeeeep gett you dowwwwn.

JANIE laughs.

JANIE: That was heartwarming. And camp appropriate language.

AL: I don’t want to get sent home.

JANIE: When I was in Young Women’s I made a list of 25 qualities I wanted in my future husband.

AL: Oh, hey, that’s a good idea—and then we challenge them to develop those qualities in themselves.

JANIE: Yeah, that wasn’t the take-away then. Anyhow. My ex-husband had 24 of the 25 qualities. When I met him, at least.

AL: I guess our powerful ability to change cuts both ways.

JANIE: The girl who wrote that list could never have imagined the last 15 years of my life.

AL: Let her have her childhood!

JANIE: No. She needed to not be naive. She should have made better choices. She should be celebrating her 25th anniversary with the love of her life.

AL: She should have all the happiness and all the love.

JANIE: My kids get so mad at me when I say I’m going to die alone. Because they will be there.

AL: Exactly! And I’ll be there too, with a pillow, in case you need a little help getting over the finish line.

JANIE: Please don’t smother me in my sleep.

AL: Oh, I would wait until you were awake.

JANIE: That’s kind of you.

AL: So you would know you weren’t alone.

JANIE: I’m pouring my heart out to you!

AL: You know as well as I do that romance is not all it’s cracked up to be. And you are, and always will be, surrounded by love.

JANIE: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everybody loves me.

AL: Not everybody.

JANIE: (Emphatically) My cup runneth o’er. It’s not the same and you know it.

AL: I do. And I know I’m sitting here, a woman who hit the jackpot as far as husbands are concerned, telling you to chill out on the husband thing. But we don’t get to choose what sort of love we have in our lives. We just get to be thankful for the chance to love in as many ways as we can. I’m tired of not having the love of a child in my life.

JANIE: Oh, Al, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—

AL: I love your kids so much. But that’s not the same either.

JANIE reaches out—a hug? A hand?

JANIE: The world is heavily in debt.

AL: Not really.

JANIE: Sometimes I see all the flowers in the world and sometimes I see all the weeds.

AL: Oh, I know. I’ve seen your yard.

JANIE: You’re welcome to weed whenever it bothers you.

AL: I don’t mean to undercut your very justified rant—

JANIE: Not a rant.

AL: Your very justified not-a-rant. But I’m always going to point out the flowers. Because I love you.

JANIE: (She’s touched, but still cheeky) Everyone does.

AL: Not everyone.

JANIE: But enough everyones.

AL: Glad you clarified.

JANIE: Flowers over weeds.

AL: 4-ev-ah.

AL instigates some sort of silly, dated thing like a fist bump that turns into the hand mimicking an explosion. JANIE reciprocates.

JANIE: And don’t let the bleeps get you down.

THE END

Marianne Hales is a poet, essayist, and playwright living in Springville, Utah. She has been published in Dialogue, Segullah, The Hong Kong Review, Helicon West, and Rocky Mountain Runners. Her plays have been produced across the U.S. and adapted for film. She is honored to influence writers at Brigham Young University and Western Governors University and co-founded Provo Poetry, a non-profit dedicated to bringing poetry into the community at large in unusual ways, and Speak For Yourself, a creative writing open mic.