TIME: Night
PLACE: On my apartment balcony.
ME:
So, what do you think?
So, what do you think?
ALEX:
What do you think? Since when do you give a flying shit about us? We're just your pawns to put in place and make you some bucks.
ME:
...and I can't even do that right. This isn't about me though. This is about you, your story and why it isn't working.
ALEX:
You tell me.
ME:
I really couldn't. Otherwise why would I ask you?
ALEX:
(sighs and takes out a cigarette)
ME:
Since when do you smoke?
ALEX:
(lights and takes a long drag, holds cigarette at the between his index and middle finger at the knuckles) You should have been paying better attention. I know you wrote me to be the "type" who wouldn't smoke, but pushing us all off to the side for almost a year gave us a lot of time to pick up some interesting hobbies. You thought that your little breakup with what's-his-name messed you up? You have no idea what it's like to be completely cast aside and have nothing better to do, nowhere to go. I won't even get started on Rachel's coke addiction.
ME:
(laughs nervously) I'm sure her parents would be proud of that.
ALEX:
Speaking of parents, what the fuck is the deal with mine? You wrote my mother to be the stereotypical first-generation Filipina mom, to be the version of your mom you lived in fear of for years. All I know about my dad is that he's white. Is he even still around? I won't even get started on my brothers...
ME:
Please don't...I wanted to make your storyline as little about family as possible.
ALEX:
Right. And me having to comfort Rachel through the ordeal with her adoptive parents and her biological parents had nothing to do with family. Let me guess, my dad is the stereotypical WASP who keeps a cool distance from his family with a gin and tonic every night and working nights at the office or screwing his secretary.
ME:
I don' t know, I never thought--
ALEX:
Damn straight you never thought. We're not real people. You didn't make us that way. I don't feel real. All you did was make me into the male version of all the insecurities you had growing up, the insecurities you have in relationships. Worse yet, you divided those into both me and Rachel. And trying to put in my "favorite" music professor in at the last chapter as the "voice of reason" who makes me realize how wrong I've been about Rachel, what the fuck? Was this an attempt for me to find a father figure considering my father's rather noticable absence in the story, or what?
ME:
I had no idea--
ALEX:
That's all you ever say, isn't it? "I didn't know." "I had no idea." You really do sound like a broken record. Not to mention the tenuous way you tried to tie music into this story. What the hell sort of composer am I supposed to be anyway? It's amazing that I could get anything done consider all I think about is Rachel.
ME:
But you love her, right?
ALEX:
Damn right I do, and I don't understand why. You did this to me. You made her to be the only woman in the universe for me. You made me to be hers. But here's what I don't get, if we're so good for each other, why can't we be together? (looks at ME in a way halfway between pissed off enough to punch a wall and broken enough to slip up and let out one tear...just the one).
ME:
I don't know. That was the point. No one is supposed to know why some relationships don't work.
ALEX:
Well then, why did you have to fuck with mine for this experiment? You know full well how when someone becomes your everything, how much it can fuck you up when they decide to leave.
ME:
But Rachel didn't leave you. She's right outside your practice room almost every afternoon.
ALEX:
You made damn well sure that things couldn't be the same between us after that proposal-- which should have worked perfectly, I might add.
ME:
You forget that I was the one who wrote it.
ALEX:
And wrote that it failed.
ME:
But she stayed with you. There has to be something there, right?
ALEX:
You tell me.
ME:
I had so much hope for you two, that maybe if I could get it to work with you, I could--
ALEX:
Get things to work with what's-his-name?
ME:
That's really none of your business, but I guess I walked into that one.
ALEX:
(flicks the cigarette off the balcony)
You walked right into that one the minute you thought of me and Rachel. We're not you. You gave us life, or at least tried to, but you didn't give us enough. I know Rachel and I were there for each other for some of the most trying parts of our lives, but there has to be something else that connects us other than that, or the fantastic sex we had in college.
ME:
I guess that's why it's not supposed to work.
ALEX:
But of course, I want more than anything for it to work. It was the only purpose you gave me in this damn story. The music just seems superfluous in comparison, just an empty sensual metaphor to parallel with the main show of this car wreck of a failed relationship. You wanted me to be the type of Asian guy girls of any race could fall for. I just want Rachel no matter how she sees herself. You didn't need to make me hapa just to give me side identity politics-related angst.
ME:
I thought that it would be the main thing driving you two apart, how she's established herself in the Asian-American community where you just couldn't relate to anyone. I thought it would be just another example of how her outgoing nature conflicted with your introspective nature.
ALEX:
You're just making me emo and it's royally pissing me off.
ME:
(looks away toward the bridge)
Fuck.
ALEX:
You've got a lot of re-writing to do before I'd even consider letting you turn this in anywhere. I know that I love Rachel. She loves me. But you are right, sometimes things just don't work out when they're supposed to.
ME:
Well then, why are you making such a big stink about it though?
ALEX:
Because there's a better way of doing it. You wrote us to be so wrapped up in each other that it completely screwed with our realities. Show the reader that. Make them understand that before it was ok that we had our different circles, different ways of doing things. Show them that we have lives outside of each other, but that things will be irrevocably different once we part. Otherwise, who the fuck cares? Why would you write this story? Why would you create us?
ME:
(smirks)
Now who's being emo?
ALEX:
Shut the fuck up.
(lights another cigarette)
This conversation is over. It was your damn idea anyway.
What do you think? Since when do you give a flying shit about us? We're just your pawns to put in place and make you some bucks.
ME:
...and I can't even do that right. This isn't about me though. This is about you, your story and why it isn't working.
ALEX:
You tell me.
ME:
I really couldn't. Otherwise why would I ask you?
ALEX:
(sighs and takes out a cigarette)
ME:
Since when do you smoke?
ALEX:
(lights and takes a long drag, holds cigarette at the between his index and middle finger at the knuckles) You should have been paying better attention. I know you wrote me to be the "type" who wouldn't smoke, but pushing us all off to the side for almost a year gave us a lot of time to pick up some interesting hobbies. You thought that your little breakup with what's-his-name messed you up? You have no idea what it's like to be completely cast aside and have nothing better to do, nowhere to go. I won't even get started on Rachel's coke addiction.
ME:
(laughs nervously) I'm sure her parents would be proud of that.
ALEX:
Speaking of parents, what the fuck is the deal with mine? You wrote my mother to be the stereotypical first-generation Filipina mom, to be the version of your mom you lived in fear of for years. All I know about my dad is that he's white. Is he even still around? I won't even get started on my brothers...
ME:
Please don't...I wanted to make your storyline as little about family as possible.
ALEX:
Right. And me having to comfort Rachel through the ordeal with her adoptive parents and her biological parents had nothing to do with family. Let me guess, my dad is the stereotypical WASP who keeps a cool distance from his family with a gin and tonic every night and working nights at the office or screwing his secretary.
ME:
I don' t know, I never thought--
ALEX:
Damn straight you never thought. We're not real people. You didn't make us that way. I don't feel real. All you did was make me into the male version of all the insecurities you had growing up, the insecurities you have in relationships. Worse yet, you divided those into both me and Rachel. And trying to put in my "favorite" music professor in at the last chapter as the "voice of reason" who makes me realize how wrong I've been about Rachel, what the fuck? Was this an attempt for me to find a father figure considering my father's rather noticable absence in the story, or what?
ME:
I had no idea--
ALEX:
That's all you ever say, isn't it? "I didn't know." "I had no idea." You really do sound like a broken record. Not to mention the tenuous way you tried to tie music into this story. What the hell sort of composer am I supposed to be anyway? It's amazing that I could get anything done consider all I think about is Rachel.
ME:
But you love her, right?
ALEX:
Damn right I do, and I don't understand why. You did this to me. You made her to be the only woman in the universe for me. You made me to be hers. But here's what I don't get, if we're so good for each other, why can't we be together? (looks at ME in a way halfway between pissed off enough to punch a wall and broken enough to slip up and let out one tear...just the one).
ME:
I don't know. That was the point. No one is supposed to know why some relationships don't work.
ALEX:
Well then, why did you have to fuck with mine for this experiment? You know full well how when someone becomes your everything, how much it can fuck you up when they decide to leave.
ME:
But Rachel didn't leave you. She's right outside your practice room almost every afternoon.
ALEX:
You made damn well sure that things couldn't be the same between us after that proposal-- which should have worked perfectly, I might add.
ME:
You forget that I was the one who wrote it.
ALEX:
And wrote that it failed.
ME:
But she stayed with you. There has to be something there, right?
ALEX:
You tell me.
ME:
I had so much hope for you two, that maybe if I could get it to work with you, I could--
ALEX:
Get things to work with what's-his-name?
ME:
That's really none of your business, but I guess I walked into that one.
ALEX:
(flicks the cigarette off the balcony)
You walked right into that one the minute you thought of me and Rachel. We're not you. You gave us life, or at least tried to, but you didn't give us enough. I know Rachel and I were there for each other for some of the most trying parts of our lives, but there has to be something else that connects us other than that, or the fantastic sex we had in college.
ME:
I guess that's why it's not supposed to work.
ALEX:
But of course, I want more than anything for it to work. It was the only purpose you gave me in this damn story. The music just seems superfluous in comparison, just an empty sensual metaphor to parallel with the main show of this car wreck of a failed relationship. You wanted me to be the type of Asian guy girls of any race could fall for. I just want Rachel no matter how she sees herself. You didn't need to make me hapa just to give me side identity politics-related angst.
ME:
I thought that it would be the main thing driving you two apart, how she's established herself in the Asian-American community where you just couldn't relate to anyone. I thought it would be just another example of how her outgoing nature conflicted with your introspective nature.
ALEX:
You're just making me emo and it's royally pissing me off.
ME:
(looks away toward the bridge)
Fuck.
ALEX:
You've got a lot of re-writing to do before I'd even consider letting you turn this in anywhere. I know that I love Rachel. She loves me. But you are right, sometimes things just don't work out when they're supposed to.
ME:
Well then, why are you making such a big stink about it though?
ALEX:
Because there's a better way of doing it. You wrote us to be so wrapped up in each other that it completely screwed with our realities. Show the reader that. Make them understand that before it was ok that we had our different circles, different ways of doing things. Show them that we have lives outside of each other, but that things will be irrevocably different once we part. Otherwise, who the fuck cares? Why would you write this story? Why would you create us?
ME:
(smirks)
Now who's being emo?
ALEX:
Shut the fuck up.
(lights another cigarette)
This conversation is over. It was your damn idea anyway.
Well...that was helpful?
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