California State University (CSU): Open Journal Systems

Rohrbacher, Cali

English

Times Mouth: A microreview of the novel that gave time a physical body

Centurion, Sophia

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I’m a bard, a storyteller,   
daydreamer rewriting  
as it serves me. It’s a skill   
to make anyone a collage   
of does-he, does-he-not petals   
and amateur prose
to make out with in a backseat,  
but it takes sadistic editing 
of my psychology and theirs.   
Indulging the backspace,   
so close to other letters.   
I can charm the sky into falling.
Wield fate like a performer’s trap door.   
There is violence in separating  
and reweaving Mr. Right   
when I need the distraction. Explain   
away the hurt they give with 
the hurt I discover.
I could romanticize a slap in the face, 
and I will. They chose me
to fuck over. When my naivete is too much, 
I hike the lengths I’ll take to overlook   
anything, mountaintops, 
declare myself the villain. Better than believe
he fooled me first. All is forgiven because I hallucinated 
good intentions in the brown of his eyes.
See how he can’t help  
but be selfish with me?  
How romantic it is  
to be wanted.
Romanticizing a Slap in the Face | Sophia 
Centurion
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This is not empathetic maturity, 
it’s an attempt to keep control of the distance  
I maintain. Keep far   
enough that I keep fabricating. 
I’ll return like a neighbor’s cat 
pretending this is home  
for a second dinner. 
I am starving.  
My body is sworn to what-is, 
but my mind wraps around what-ifs  
until it is tangled and exhausted. 
All consuming,  
like the stretch into the black hole  
that forces any shape inside it.  
Like a teen under strict rule, evades all sense  
and benevolence just for 
the high in the park. 
It isn’t impressive for me  
to be interested, 
I can look at a flame for hours.  
But sometimes 
I’ll close my eyes  
and stay for the warmth  
I can’t concoct on my own.  
What fun to create my own heartbreak.
Again and again and again. 
What fun to be invulnerable.


Romanticizing a Slap in the Face

Miranda Calderon, Guadalupe

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Ghosts of the Streets | Guadalupe 
Miranda
A blistering day— 
my skin red, hairs singed from the sun 
cooling o! in the car as the streets seem to stretch 
past the tunnel of life. 
A woman lies on the ground 
sweltering under heat, under watchful eyes looking away 
skin to bone, bone to dirt, blood to cement 
searching for soft hands 
crying for soft limbs 
begging for the soft caress of life to accept her.
A blistering day— 
my skin raw, with something to itch 
furrowed brow with nothing to eat 
stretching past the tunnel of life 
watching, waiting for the woman to lift her head. 
Green shirt, green pants blending with nothing but air 
next to the steps of a home that is not her own 
blending with the leaves, the green of the trees 
blending, until air washes her away 
and nothing is left 
and nothing is seen. 
Green shirt, green pants like a leaf, green of the trees 
shunned to silence, shunned of beauty 
shunned to cruel powers of invisibility.


Ghosts of the Streets

A marine recalls a horrific event that lead to the loss of someone close. Juxtaposed with scenes of training before the chaos.&nbsp

Callejas, Jose

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Combat Water Survival, Third Class (CWS3)
“Enter water from height of 5 feet using the modified 
abandon ship technique, into deep water with full gear and 
weapon, travel 10 meters, remove pack, and travel 15 me-
ters with pack and weapon.”
I was entering the water from a little higher than 5 feet. 
I was not abandoning a ship either. Instead, I was aban-
doning the Bridge of The 14th of July above the Tigris River. 
I handed the PRC-119 radio to another Marine. I jumped 
with full knowledge that the swim ahead was further than 
what I had been required to swim back in San Diego. What 
I couldn’t have prepared for was the stark contrast with 
the heated pool back at home. The pain almost rendered 
me unconscious. The rescue swim was almost over before it 
began.
I swam back to the surface of this polar bear plunge in 
the middle of the desert. The temperature tricked my body 
into forgetting the need to breathe. In my state of crisis, as 
my body yearned for air, as my oxygen levels dropped, I 
pictured my mother and remembered her stories of these 
rivers…
“Biblical lands!” she had exclaimed.
“I’ll make sure and send a postcard, Madre,” I snorted 
at her while I packed my gear.
In Genesis these rivers are from the mythological Gar-
den of Eden. The Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, the third and 
fourth rivers respectively. In its current state, it much more 
resembled the rivers as depicted in Revelations. The end 
of times was near. Here I was on the banks of the river like 
Daniel having visions.
I gasped and finally caught my breath; I was back in 
the river. I kicked and pulled frantically through the water. 
The fire illuminated the overturned vehicle, and I could see 
One More Lap | Jose Callejas
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the back wheels of the seven ton still rolling on. As I made 
my way down to where the truck had come to a stop, I 
began to bump into gear. First a pack, and then food we 
had been rationing. My stomach, already a mess, lurched 
as I struggled to focus over the sound of my teeth chatter-
ing.The screams of a Marine nearby snapped some clarity 
back into my life.
“Castro!!” He got out before going under. He popped 
up again and again as he labored. “My leg is fucked,” he 
cried out.
Combat Water Survival, Second Class (CWS2)
“Wearing full combat gear, perform 25-meter collar-tow 
on passive “victim” similarly dressed, simultaneously towing 
two packs and two weapons.”
I grabbed the back of his flak jacket and pulled as I 
side-stroked using the current to help me carry his ass back 
to shore. Once he was on land the pain really set in, and 
he was not doing much yelling. The corpsman was already 
applying the tourniquet to his left leg. The morphine that 
followed sent Mercado o! with the sandman. The other 
swimmers were not as lucky as I had been. I could hear 
them counting out compressions as they wrestled with 
the unconscious bodies. I knew Mercado had been with 
first platoon, so my worst fears were confirmed; Valencia 
must have gone in the water when the truck hit that IED. 
This fighting force had proven to be as problematic as our 
unorthodox fighting had once been for the British.
Jumping back in the water was not necessary if you 
had already made it back to shore with at least one Ma-
rine. Most of the other swimmers were now securing the 
perimeter. After all, it wasn’t just the strong current and fire 
that threatened us. Surely, whoever set that IED would be 
coming to take pleasure in seeing their work. There would 
be no better time for their target practice. Thank God 
they’re not all marksmen like the men in our ranks.
I still could not find Valencia and he was one of those 
rare marines that could hardly swim. He’d barely qualified 
with an uno"cial combat water survival 4. He was certain 
we would not be doing much swimming in the desert, 
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never mind the classroom training before our deployment 
and the literal meaning of “Mesopotamia”. The cradle 
of civilization was located between these two rivers. The 
flooding that once gave life had also made it the reason 
for so much death.
Combat Water Survival, First Class (CWS1)
“Tread water or survival float in deep water with utilities 
and boots for 30 minutes without artificial floatation. Boots 
will be removed after 5 min. and retained. Five min. prior to 
completion of the 30 min float, and without exiting from the 
water, replace the boots and swim 500 meters using one or 
a combination of survival strokes.”
I kept telling myself that I owed him one more lap. Not 
much of a swimmer but the gold standard when it came 
to troop morale and the esprit de corps that fueled the 
brotherhood. I walked upriver on the shore before getting 
back in the water. I moved packs and called out to him. I 
swam as close to the truck as I could. That is when Captain 
O’Brian called out that just two Marines were unaccounted 
for. I knew one of them had to be Valencia.
The marine I handed the radio to had made his way 
down to the river. He called for me to come back in. He 
had heard the call go out, with the company engaged 
to the north, we needed to call the quick reaction force. I 
dove below the surface one more time. Visibility was close 
to zero, but I felt my way around. That is when I realized 
the front of the truck had taken a direct hit and no one in 
the cabin could have survived. If the blast did not kill them, 
they died fighting for their last breath.
I swam back to the surface. I could sense the emotions 
taking over. I could also hear the machine guns now fully 
engaged. The full rate of fire told the story of the size of the 
force coming. The sky was now bright with tracers. I could 
tell by the bright crimson streaks that they were ours. The 
green tracers the Iraqis use were outnumbered. By sheer 
number, we were winning that exchange. I decided to 
keep swimming, in hopes of getting him out regardless of 
his status. Killed in Action provides a closure that Missing in 
Action just can’t.
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Soon after, my own head started spinning. I knew I had 
been at this for too long and if I did not get out now, I, too, 
would lose my life so far away from home. I kicked and 
kicked and although I questioned if I’d lost consciousness, 
I was now on the shore. I cried for my best friend. I cried for 
his family. I cried for my family.
Marine Corps Instructor of Water Survival (MCIWS)
“Among the most physically demanding courses in the 
Corps. This course creates instructors who can train Marines 
to react and survive life-threatening situations in the water. 
The course mixes heavy loads of aquatic conditioning, en-
durance swims, rescues, and training for aquatic emergen-
cies. Half of you will fail!”
After coming home, and with every intention of leaving 
the Marine Corps, I decided to become a Combat Water 
Survival Instructor. Before my deployment, I completed the 
subjectively tougher Water Survival Advanced, a qualifica-
tion with attrition rates between 75-85%. I would now honor 
his memory by drown-proofing other Marines under my 
charge. Not only did I lose Valencia that night to the blast, 
but several Marines drowned because of lack of training in 
the name of expediting the show of force overseas.
It was 5 years before I could visit his family. It was his 
daughter’s fifteenth birthday, her quinceñera, and I could 
not say no to his mom when she requested I be there to 
tell his daughter a little about her father and the time we 
shared together before his tragic death. I spoke to her 
about how much he had told me about her every night 
before we fell asleep at bootcamp. She, in turn, told me 
how she still remembers me visiting. As she shared memory 
after memory, she began to reminisce about much fun she 
would have swimming with her dad. I thought this odd be-
cause of how poorly he had done when we went through 
training. It turns out, like everything else in his life Valencia 
ever struggled with, he had made it a point to work harder 
than anyone else around him and eventually master it.
He knew about the possibility of the MCIWS course 
having an opening. He had, in fact, completed the screen-
ing for the course that once terrified him. It was actually his 
spot that I filled when I got back home from Iraq.
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Every pilot I had trained. Every sailor I prepared for their 
time at BUD/S. Every person I dragged out of the pool be-
cause of a shallow water blackout. They were all indebted 
to him. I am now convinced he pulled me out from under 
that overturned truck in Iraq.


One More Lap

Merchan, Daphne

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Jojo | Daphne Merchan
I always go by Eve’s house first. It’s closest to mine, only three doors down. She has a green bike, her favorite 
color. My bike is blue and red. I think it’s ugly, but Mom and 
Dad refuse to buy me a new one. They say my brother’s old 
one is “just fine.” They’re the only ones who think so. At least 
they got me my own backpack for school. It’s black with 
stripes on it, and I love it. I adjust the bag on my shoulder as 
I pull up to Eve’s front yard.
I yell her name until she finally comes outside. She slams 
her front door shut and grabs her bike o! the porch before 
joining me on the street.
“Hi, Harper. Ready?” Eve asks me as she mounts her 
bike.
I notice Mrs. Williams, Eve’s mother, waving to me 
through her kitchen window. I quickly wave back, then hop 
on my bike.
“Ready.”
We ride towards Sarah’s house together, Eve on her 
green bike, and me on my ugly one. Sarah’s house is 
always such a pain in the butt to get to. She lives on 
Big Hill. We call it that because it’s the biggest hill in the 
neighborhood. The name of her street is actually Cherry Hill, 
but no one calls it that. It’s always just Big Hill.
I pant heavily as I try to pedal all the way up the street. 
Eve has given up and decides to walk her bike, watching 
me as I struggle next to her. Sweat trickles down my 
forehead and armpits. I have only ever made it up the hill 
once, and that was in the third grade. I was very little back 
then. Now, as a sixth grader, things are very di!erent. I’m 
older, more mature. My grandma tells me I’m turning into 
“quite the young lady.” Whatever that means.
Eve is already way ahead of me and waiting on Sarah’s 
lawn by the time I make it there. I don’t even care that I 
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made it all the way up the hill without getting o! my bike. 
I’m so exhausted I lay down on the grass next to Eve and 
close my eyes. Too tired to think, too tired to move. Sarah 
sees us from her bedroom window and comes running 
outside. She’s dressed in a frilly, pink tutu and bedazzled 
shirt that reads Princess across the front of it. I roll my eyes 
as I prop myself up on my elbows. It is the ugliest shirt I have 
ever seen.
“Sarah, that’s the ugliest shirt I’ve ever seen!” I yell from 
her lawn.
She stops on her front porch and looks down at her 
outfit. Then she shrugs.
“My mom said I look cute!” she yells back.
“Whatever.” I say. I wasn’t going to argue with her. 
I look over my own clothes that I chose to put on this 
morning. Jeans and my brother Aden’s red baseball jersey. 
Mom and Dad won’t buy me new clothes either, but I 
don’t mind. I can get Aden’s hand-me-downs as dirty as I 
want.
“How are you going to ride your bike in a tutu?” I ask 
Sarah as Eve and I follow her to the garage. I put my hands 
on my hips, watching her.
“Same way I always do,” she replies.
“What if you get it dirty? Won’t your mom be mad?” 
Eve asks, her head cocked to the left. Her long braids fall 
over her shoulder. She recently got her ends dyed green. 
They match her outfit. Today she’s wearing overalls with her 
favorite green t-shirt underneath.
“She doesn’t mind. She says that’s what our heavy-duty 
washing machine is for,” Sarah grins.
Eve and I exchange a look. Sarah’s mom is always 
buying the newest technology. Mr. Evans, Sarah’s dad, is 
a doctor. I always tell Eve that I think it’s the only reason 
Sarah’s mom married him. Eve says that’s a mean thing to 
say. Am I wrong? Mrs. Evans loves fancy things. She even 
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calls herself “high-maintenance.” Whatever that means.
Once Sarah hops onto her brand-new pink bike, 
completely engulfed in ribbons and lace, the three of 
us ride down to the river. Well, it’s not really a river. Some 
people call it that, but it’s really just a creek. Though a 
decent sized one at that. I throw my bike down into the 
dirt, and Eve does the same. Sarah props hers up nicely 
against a tree. We take turns leaping from stone to stone 
across the water to the bank on the other side. We begin 
walking to the edge of the dense forest that surrounds our 
neighborhood.
“Do you think he’ll be there today?” Sarah looks 
worried.
“He’s always there,” I say. “He never leaves.”
“But… what if something happened? We don’t even 
know where he goes at night. Oh, I know I should have 
brought him to stay with me.” Sarah bites her nails, though 
they’ve already been bitten down to stubs. I groan, 
throwing my head back dramatically.
“Sarah! Do you want to go home?”
“No…”
“Then stop acting like a quitter. Besides, your parents 
would kill you if you brought him home.”
“Harper, don’t be mean,” Eve cuts in.
I open my mouth to argue back, but when I look up, 
I notice we’ve made it. The air is quiet as we enter our 
special spot. The morning sun struggles to shine through 
the branches overhead. The crunch of leaves underneath 
our sneakers fills the silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I 
see Sarah slip her hand into Eve’s, and the two edge closer 
together.
“Jojo?” I whisper into the trees. “Jojo!”
There’s a soft rustling in the bushes nearby, and the 
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three of us hesitantly approach the mysterious movement. 
My hand brushes Eve’s, but I don’t dare hold it. I couldn’t 
be labeled a scaredy-cat. It would ruin my reputation. We 
all hold our breath. Suddenly, a ball of fur lunges out of the 
bushes, right towards the three of us. We scream and fall to 
the ground, giggling as Jojo licks our faces. The large dog 
looks as happy to see us as we are to see him. Once he 
settles down, I pull a bag of dog food out of my backpack.
“I bought it yesterday when I went with my mom to the 
store. She didn’t even notice.”
“You’ve got the money for that?” Eve asks in 
amazement. 
“Yup. Took all my twelve dollars.”
“But, Harper, what about the new bike you’re saving up 
for? The black one?” Sarah asks.
“Yeah! You were really close,” Eve adds with a frown.
“I needed almost a hundred more dollars. That’s like a 
million lemonade stands. It was going to take forever. Plus, I 
can use the reward money we get for Jojo,” I remind them.
Jojo bounces around happily as I pour his dog food 
onto the ground. We found him only two days ago when 
we were swimming in the creek. We didn’t know how he 
got there, or from where, but then we saw the posters. Jojo 
belonged to the Jetsons. They’re an old couple that live 
a few streets over from Eve and I. Jojo must’ve gotten out 
and ran all the way to the edge of the woods. The reward 
for his return was two hundred dollars. Two hundred! I told 
my friends I thought I should get all the money, because 
I was the one who saw him first. But, of course, Eve and 
Sarah were both quick to argue that they saw him first, so 
we’ve been stuck deciding how to split our reward.
“I was thinking, actually,” Eve starts, glancing at Sarah. 
“Maybe we should reject the money?”
“WHAT? Reject the money? Eve, are you insane!? Two 
hundred dollars!” I exclaim, standing up in frustration.
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“Harper, let her finish!” Sarah tells me as she tugs on my 
arm. I sit back down.
“You’re in on this too?” I ask her.
Sarah gives me a look, telling me to be quiet, so I do. I 
turn back to Eve. I cross my arms. “Keep talking.”
“Because we’ve been taking care of him for a little 
while, that’s kind of like our reward, you know? Pretending 
he’s ours. It’s too hard to split the money, anyway,” Eve 
says.
“I like the idea,” Sarah smiles. “I think it’s nice.” 
“Yeah ‘cuz you’re rich,” I mumble under my breath.
Sarah turns to me. Her voice rises an octave, a clear 
indication of her annoyance. “I’m not stopping you, 
Harper! So, take the money if you want. You can choose to 
be selfish while Eve and I choose to be nice.”
I sense Eve’s worry as I watch her wrap her arms around 
Jojo, who also seems alarmed by the sudden tension in 
the air. I avert my eyes from Eve and turn to Sarah. Slowly, 
I rise, taking a step towards her. She stands too. She’s taller 
than me. This is only something I notice now, as it feels as 
if she towers over me. I can smell the Glitter Rainbow Dry 
Shampoo Mist she douses herself with every morning as it 
emanates from her sleek blond hair. I scrunch up my nose. I 
hate that smell.
“If you’re only doing it so people will think you’re nice, 
then you’re being just as selfish as me,” I tell her.
“No we’re not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Guys, please…” Eve whispers.
“I want the money!” I yell. I turn my attention to Eve, 
who is still sitting on the ground. “Eve, don’t you think we 
should take the reward? We’re returning Jojo to them. We 
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deserve it.” Eve’s eyes widen. I feel a twinge of regret. I 
know she hates being pulled into our fights.
“I don’t…” she stammers.
Sarah steps in front of me, blocking my view of Eve. 
“Eve already told you what she thinks. And we agree that 
we should decline.”
“But that’s not fair!” I cry.
Eve stands suddenly. Jojo barks at the sudden 
movement, and begins running circles around her ankles. 
Eve steps towards me. There is a determination in her eyes 
I’ve never seen before. Sarah quietly steps out of her way.
“Fair to who? To you?” Eve asks me. I say nothing. 
“We’re giving the Jetsons their dog back. That’s called 
being a good person, Harper.”
Eve puts her hands on my shoulders. I feel the urge 
to shrug them o!, but I don’t. She looks at me with such 
seriousness, I have no choice but to listen.
“We don’t need the money, Harper. Trust me. Besides, 
we can’t keep him forever. We can’t take care of him. 
We’ll miss Jojo, but I think his owners might miss him even 
more right now. Don’t you want him to be at home? Isn’t 
that enough?”
The sincerity in Eve’s eyes tells me to think about what 
this might mean. No new bike? Probably. Me being really 
annoyed with my friends right now? Definitely. Getting to 
see Jojo return home, though? I guess Eve is kind of right.
“It’s two against one,” Sarah reminds me, crossing her 
arms.
I glare at her. Sarah could get anything she wants. In 
fact, she never wants. Because she already has everything. 
This makes me want to slap that smug look right o! her 
face. I know why it makes me angry. I can never have 
what she has. And that is unfair.
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But it is two against one. We established this rule a 
long time ago. It means they win. My anger is not going to 
change anything about that.
I sigh. “Fine.” I say, pushing Eve’s arms o! of mine. 
“Jeez.”
“We’ll take him back tomorrow?” Eve asks.
“Tomorrow,” I hu!. “But I’m doing this for you. Not 
Sarah.”
Eve sighs and exchanges a look with Sarah. I don’t 
like when they speak to each other with their eyes. I don’t 
know what they are saying. But I don’t care.
We spend the rest of the day at our spot in the woods. 
We say goodbye to Jojo and ride back to our houses.
The next morning, Sarah, Eve, and I walk towards the 
Jetson’s house. I hold Jojo on a leash, his tail wagging as 
he happily walks beside us. I wish we were as happy as he 
was. He’s probably excited to see his real owners again, 
but the three of us are miserable. Sarah even decided to 
wear black today. Granted, it’s still a tutu, but it is black. 
She said she’s in mourning. Whatever that means.
As we near the front porch of the Jetson’s large white 
house, we all suck in a deep breath.
“Ready?” I ask them.
“Ready,” they reply.
The door is flung open before we even get the chance 
to knock. Mrs. Jetson runs out onto her porch and wraps 
her arms around Jojo.
“Oh, Jojo! You’re okay!” she exclaims. “Oh, girls, thank 
you!” 
Mr. Jetson comes out behind his wife, bending down to 
hug the dog, too. We watch them, our lips curving up into 
smiles as we see how happy they all are. Especially Jojo. He 
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jumps and barks, his tail wagging wildly. I hand the leash to 
Mr. Jetson as he stands up.
“Where did you girls find him?” he asks us.
“The woods. He was probably hiding in there,” I tell him. 
He must sense the sadness in my voice.
“Well, thank you, girls. Truly. We are so happy to have 
him back. I’ll grab your reward from inside,” he smiles, a 
sure attempt to cheer us up. I glance at Eve. She nods.
“Mr. Jetson, wait. We… actually don’t want the 
money,” I try to smile, but it comes o! more as a wince. 
“Knowing Jojo is safe back home is enough of a reward for 
us.”
The words feel strange in my mouth. Mr. Jetson looks 
surprised, but then he smiles warmly. He tells us how kind 
we are. We tell him we know. Mrs. Jetson tells us to feel free 
to visit Jojo any time. We tell her thank you. Both Mr. and 
Mrs. Jetson thank us one last time, and then the three of us 
turn and start the walk back towards Big Hill.
“So, are you gonna tell me I was right?” Eve asks me, 
nudging my shoulder.
I smirk. “Never.”


Jojo

Stokes, Bri

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A blaze of cobalt blue.
A wingless dragon’s
flame, alchemized into silver
and set loose in
seaglass-colored
rivermouths:
so swells a
forlorn
womb,
so within: babbling tide pools
rife with remnants
that glow
and make ornaments
of mason jelly,
dutifully
still,
achingly
lavender.
If I could find an anchor,
I’d wed myself to it!
Los Angeles conjures its
wildfires in the belly of
a skylit cauldron, where a sleeping
Aeon yawns and
fans out Her legs
to birth god over tangerine hills,
and the anxious
have called this god
“Endurance.”
The anxious have abandoned
MARMALADE LAMENT 
BRI STOKES
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the scorch of snow
and deified its fangs under marmalade skies.
I miss the 30-year-psalms
inscribed under
the Inglewood concrete, singing like ghosts,
hidden in the
hymns wailed by wild parrots up, up
in the Queen Palms:
we are gilded as
children of the Milky Way;
we are
rudderless,
without a wing or
an ocean.


Marmalade Lament

Khanfucious

Landception

Lupercio, D.J.

Puzzle[R]

Solares, Sofia

jan. 01, 2010

Van Gelder, Natalie

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“FLIGHT 237 – DENVER TO LOS ANGELES”
A Play in One Act
Cast of Characters
   Lincoln:    Young man around age 25
 
   Nancy:     Older woman around age 65
   Woman with Baby:   Late 20s, early 30s 
Baby is about two years old
Setting
A small passenger jet airplane. 
Time
Early morning, around 8:30 am. 
A young man, around age 25 
(LINCOLN) is sitting in the window 
seat of the left side of the plane. 
Seated next to him is an older woman, 
around age 65 (NANCY). LINCOLN is 
dressed casually, in a crumpled shirt, 
baseball cap, and jeans. NANCY is 
smartly dressed, wearing a scarf that 
is trying to look expensive, statement 
“button” earrings, and neatly coiffed 
hair. NANCY wears reading glasses. 
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LINCOLN is leaning his head against 
the window, propped up on a travel 
pillow, eyes closed. NANCY is reading 
the in-flight magazine.
An electronic bell sound *BING* 
followed by an intercom voice, “Ladies 
and Gentlemen, we have reached 
cruising altitude. You may now feel free 
to use the lavatories, but while seated, 
please keep your seatbelts securely 
fastened.” NANCY puts the magazine 
back in the seat-back pocket, reaches 
down and picks up her oversized purse 
from at her feet and puts it in her lap, 
fumbles through her purse, and pulls 
out her cell phone. This is all done very 
loudly. She adjusts her glasses as she 
fidgets with her phone, looking a bit 
confused or frustrated for a second, 
then leans over LINCOLN to take a 
picture of the scenery outside the 
window.
LINCOLN opens one eye slightly, then 
shuts it quickly when she looks over at 
him.
NANCY leans over a second time, 
takes a second picture.
LINCOLN adjusts his pillow in an 
obvious manner.
NANCY leans over a third time, takes a 
third picture, then sits back in her seat 
and scrolls through the pictures on her 
phone. Makes a “tsk tsk” sound, sighs, 
DRAMA
79
then starts to lean over a fourth time.
LINCOLN opens his eyes, sits up, puts 
his pillow away in the backpack at his 
feet, pulls out a big paperback book, 
and starts to read it. NANCY pulls 
back as he does this, looking slightly 
annoyed, but also apologetic or 
embarrassed. She straightens out and 
puts a smile on her face.
NANCY
Don’t you just love mountains?
LINCOLN
Excuse me?
NANCY
The mountains. 
Points out window
Aren’t they just lovely? 
LINCOLN
Um, yea, I guess. 
NANCY
The pictures are for my son-in-law. He’s a geologist. Works 
at the university. I think he said he teaches a class about 
mountains. 
Pause
 
They really are lovely. We don’t have them where I’m from.
LINCOLN
Does not look up from his book
Hmm.
80 
NANCY
Florida. I live in Tampa.
Pause. LINCOLN does not acknowledge 
or look up from his book.
Well, actually, I’m from Nebraska, but at this point I’ve lived 
more of my life in Florida than Nebraska. But that’s not 
counting the time I lived in Paris. 
Dreamy look on her face
Either way, no mountains. 
Another pause. LINCOLN still does not 
acknowledge or look up from his book.
NANCY
Do you live in California?
LINCOLN continues to look at his book. 
LINCOLN
Yea. L.A. Well, Pico Rivera. 
NANCY
So then you’re used to the mountains. 
Pause
Do you ski? Fish?
Lincoln closes his book, using his finger 
as a marker and looks at NANCY.
LINCOLN
I see them, but I don’t visit them. They’re just kind of…
there. I’ve honestly never given much thought to the 
DRAMA
81
mountains. I’m really enjoying this book though. 
NANCY glances over at the book.
NANCY
That’s a really big book. Usually on planes I bring light 
reading. I read that somewhere. Or heard it. Maybe on 
TV. That you should bring light reading on an airplane. 
Something not so bulky.
LINCOLN 
I started it before my trip and I’m trying to finish it before 
we land. 
NANCY
I see.  Well, enjoy. Sure is a big book. 
LINCOLN opens his book back up and 
continues reading. NANCY glances 
around her, searching. Her eyes meet 
those of the woman across the aisle. 
The woman has a small toddler on her 
lap. NANCY smiles, almost relieved.
NANCY
What a doll. She sure is well behaved. 
WOMAN 
Awe, thank you. She’s having fun, I think. 
NANCY
Is this her first trip?
LINCOLN looks up to see what is going 
on.
WOMAN
Oh no, she flies pretty often. Her grandparents live in 
82 
Florida. 
NANCY
Oh? Which part?
LINCOLN rolls his eyes and goes back 
to reading.
WOMAN
Melbourne. It’s near Orlando. 
NANCY
Well isn’t that funny, I live there, too! Well, Tampa actually. 
Just across the aisle, just like we are now. Isn’t that funny. 
I have friends that live near Melbourne though. Their son 
is stationed there so they moved there to be closer to him 
and his family. Air Force, I think. 
WOMAN
Oh, how nice. 
NANCY
Should I thank you for your service?
WOMAN
Excuse me?
NANCY
Are you folks military?
WOMAN
Oh no, we’re not. Just live there. 
NANCY
I see. 
Slight pause
Visit Disney World often?
DRAMA
83
WOMAN
Smiles and sighs a little
We haven’t taken her yet. We figure she’s still a little too 
young to really understand. 
NANCY
Never too young to have fun. That’s what I say. You should 
take her!
Woman smiles to appease NANCY.
NANCY’s face winces and she grabs 
her neck.
WOMAN
Are you okay?
NANCY
Oh yes. Just a crick in my neck. Not as young as I used to 
be. You enjoy your flight. She really is precious. They grow 
up so fast… 
Waves to the baby, then turns back 
around. As she turns, her smile fades.
NANCY turns back to LINCOLN
NANCY
So what’s the big book about?
LINCOLN smiles and shakes his head a 
little in a “you’ve got to be kidding me” 
way. He reaches down to his backpack 
and pulls out a bookmark, puts it in the 
book, then closes the book
84 
LINCOLN 
Vampires, I think?
NANCY
You think? Looks like you’re at least 400 pages in at this 
point. Seems like you’d have some idea what a book is 
about 400 pages in.
LINCOLN laughs
LINCOLN 
A friend loaned it to me. She’s picking me up from the 
airport. That’s why I was trying to finish it. It’s okay though, 
really. I still had 200 pages to go. I wasn’t going to finish it. 
NANCY
Well, like I said, it must not be that good if you can’t even 
tell a person what it’s about. 
LINCOLN looks down at his book, a 
pensive look on his face, then looks 
back up at Nancy.
LINCOLN 
It’s alright, I guess. It’s just a little weirder than stuff I usually 
read. I’m pretty sure there’s a deeper, hidden meaning that 
I’m not seeing. Has to be. I mean, it does have vampires. Or 
what I think are vampires, but I think maybe they stand for 
something else? Like a metaphor maybe? Humanity’s lost 
its…humanity? 
NANCY
Sounds terrible. 
LINCOLN
Laughs
DRAMA
85
Honestly, I really don’t know. My friend Patty kept saying 
how much I’d love it, that everyone needs to read it. When 
she dropped me off at the airport, she handed it to me. I 
think she thought maybe it would help get my mind off of 
things. Give me something to do. 
LINCOLN chuckles again, then stops 
and just stares at the book, lost in 
thought.
NANCY
My daughter bought me one of those electric book things. 
She put about a hundred books on it before she gave it 
to me. That way if I got bored with one, I could just pick 
another one. 
NANCY pauses, looks up toward 
the corner of the ceiling as if 
contemplating.
I think she thinks I’m bored a lot. She asks me all the time, 
“Mom, do you have enough to keep you busy? Do you 
have enough hobbies? What about a knitting class?” Hah, 
like all old women need to knit. I lived in Paris for Christ’s 
sake! People who lived in Paris don’t knit. Well maybe they 
do, what the hell do I know? 
LINCOLN furrows his brow, looking 
slightly confused, but interested.
LINCOLN
Well, is she right?
NANCY
About what?
LINCOLN
Does she have a reason to think you are bored?
86 
NANCY
Maybe, I don’t know. I think I get along just fine. 
Shakes her head. 
But that’s not my point. The problem is that now I have too 
many options and I can never decide what to read! When I 
got it, I gave it a try. A good, heartfelt try. And when a book 
disappointed me, or I didn’t get the point of it, I did what 
she suggested and just moved on to the next one. But then 
I just kept moving on, and on, and on. Never finished a 
damn book. So now it just sits on my nightstand, collecting 
dust. 
LINCOLN raises his eyebrows and 
opens his eyes wider in dramatic 
boredom. NANCY does not notice.
I’d never tell her I hate it though. It’d just break her heart 
if she knew I didn’t like it. So sometimes I tell her, “Jenny, 
I just love that book thing you got me. Use it all the time.” 
Maybe you could just tell Patty you finished the book. Move 
on to something else. 
LINCOLN
Thinks about it for a second
Yea, maybe. 
Laughs 
Your e-book problem kinda sounds like me and Netflix. Do 
you live by your daughter?
NANCY
Oh no. She hates Tampa. Says the humidity makes her hair 
frizzy. Makes a lot of jokes about alligators though. 
DRAMA
87
LINCOLN
Huh.
 
Slight pause. LINCOLN looks away, 
thinking NANCY is finished talking.
NANCY
You know, I have yet to see a single alligator? 
LINCOLN looks a bit startled and he 
quickly turns his head back to NANCY.
Been there going on 35 years and I hear about them all 
the time on the news, “Gator ate dog, gator attacks school 
children.” Did you hear a gator killed a kid on vacation at 
Disney World? That poor kid. Happiest place on Earth my 
rear end. Well, not for him at least. But ain’t that life. Full of 
promises and hope. Stability. And then… 
NANCY looks lost in thought for a 
moment, then snaps back into rapid 
speech.
But I’ve never actually seen one. At the zoo maybe, and one 
time I made Frank drive me down to an alligator farm, just 
so I can say I saw one, but not in the wild. Not at my house. 
I guess they must not like me. Maybe they could bottle my 
pheromones and sprinkle them around DisneyWorld. 
They both give an awkward chuckle.
So terrible. That poor kid. Oh well. What was I saying? Oh 
yea, she lives in Denver. 
Makes a snarky face
Jenny and Dave. And they’ve got a little boy, my grandson 
88 
Braydon. Like that’s a real name. But I don’t say anything. 
Not my place, not my kid. Plus, it’d break her heart if she 
knew I didn’t like my own grandson’s name. 
Looks down, slight pause
So, I keep my mouth shut. Give’m hugs when I see him. Call 
him on his birthday.
     
Slight pause, quickly picks her  head 
back up
Anyway, 
Smiles
I stopped there to visit for a few days on my way to L.A. 
Pause
What’s Netflix?
LINCOLN
Laughs 
It’s kinda like your electronic book thing, but with movies 
and shows.  You watch them on a TV, or your phone or iPad. 
NANCY
Huh. What’ll they think of next…
LINCOLN
You know, I think I’m going to keep trying to figure it out. 
The book, I mean. Mind if I keep reading? 
NANCY
Of course! Don’t let me be the one to stand in your way of 
learning the deeper meaning behind vampires. 
Winks
DRAMA
89
LINCOLN smiles at NANCY, looks to the 
window, relieved, then opens his book 
back up and continues to read.
NANCY picks up the in-flight magazine 
from the seat-back pocket again and 
starts flipping pages quickly, trying to 
find something she hasn’t read yet. She 
sighs, then puts the magazine back into 
the pocket. She starts looking around 
again, searching.
NANCY turns to the woman across the 
aisle again and points out her window.
NANCY
Oh look, there’s another airplane out there. It looks like 
we’re racing! Maybe they’re trying to beat us to L.A. I think 
maybe the little one would like to see. Can she see from 
that side?
WOMAN 
Oh yea, look at that. Hey look Sydney, another airplane. 
The baby does not look interested.
NANCY looks disappointed as she 
turns around to face forward. She sighs 
loudly. LINCOLN slowly closes his 
book again, sighs, purses his lips into a 
makeshift smile, then turns to NANCY.
LINCOLN
So, who are you visiting in LA then?
NANCY’s face lights up.
NANCY
90 
Some old friends of mine. We all live in different parts 
of the country, so we never see each other. Sheila’s in 
Seattle, Gayle lives in Montana, and poor Susan never left 
Nebraska, bless her heart. Betty lives in Twelve Oaks, I 
think? I don’t know. I wrote it down somewhere, but now 
I can’t find it. I just know she’s picking me up from the 
airport.
LINCOLN
Thousand Oaks?
NANCY
That’s it! 
Laughs and shakes her head
Twelve Oaks. I’m so silly. That’s where Scarlett O’ Hara went 
to the fancy party before the Yankees burned it down.
LINCOLN looks confused
Anyway, we’re all boarding a cruise ship in LA and setting 
sail for Maui. 
Does a little dance in her seat, 
LINCOLN smiles
Fourteen days of fruity slushy drinks, dancing, and sun 
without all the stupid mosquitoes ruining the mood. After 
Denver this’ll be such a relief.
LINCOLN
You don’t like Denver?
NANCY
Who likes Denver? That’s like someone saying they like 
Nebraska. 
Laughs 
DRAMA
91
LINCOLN
Well that sounds like a great time. I’m sure you deserve it. 
I’ve never been to Hawaii. I’ve never really been anywhere. 
NANCY
Oh! You’ve gotta go! So many places. And they make it so 
easy! You just pick a hotel, pick an airplane, and you just 
go!
LINCOLN
My mom and I were planning a trip to Alaska, but we just 
never went.  
NANCY
Well you should. I bet she’d like that. A trip with her son. 
What mom wouldn’t like that?
LINCOLN
Looks down at his lap, furrows brow.
She died, actually. 
NANCY
Covers her mouth with her hand
Oh honey, I’m so sorry. How long?
LINCOLN
Still looking down
Last week. Cancer. They said she was getting better, then 
she just…died. 
Looks up at NANCY. Pained look on his 
face
How does that happen? 
Pause. NANCY is quiet, but her face 
92 
shows concern and pity. 
Her funeral was in Denver. There was a cancer center 
there, so she moved there a couple years ago with my 
stepdad. Fell in love with the place. I think she really liked 
the snow. She always talked about living somewhere with 
snow. Some doctor with some new treatment said things 
sounded hopeful. Anyway… it’s like you said about the 
alligators. 
NANCY
Alligators? 
LINCOLN
Things are full of hope and promise. Stability. You’re 
planning a trip to Alaska, visiting Disney World. And then… 
it’s just gone. Everything’s different. Why does that happen?
NANCY
I don’t know. I really don’t know. 
LINCOLN
Who is Frank?
NANCY
What?
LINCOLN
You said Frank took you to see the gators. 
NANCY
Oh right.
Slight pause 
Frank was my husband. 
LINCOLN
Was?
DRAMA
NANCY
A year ago. Heart attack. Didn’t see it coming. 
LINCOLN
I’m sorry, too. 
NANCY looks down. She takes 
LINCOLN’s hand in both of hers and 
and squeezes it. She looks up and 
her eyes are filled with tears. Her lip 
trembles. The plane jumps and they 
jump with it, startled. A loud, electronic 
bell sound *BING* followed by an 
intercom voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, 
please fasten your seatbelts as we 
are experiencing a bit of turbulence.” 
NANCY lets go of LINCOLN’S hand, 
wipes away her tears, then reaches 
forward and straightens out the 
magazine in the seat-back pocket. 
She looks at LINCOLN and laughs. He 
laughs, too.
END OF PLAY
93


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