It’s 1981. Lem is drunk. Lacey came to check on him as she was instructed to do.
Move Ya Body by Nina Sky plays.
They sit in his living-room.
“I know why you’re depressed.” says Lacey, losing her patience with humanity in the 20th Century.
Lem smiles, “Oh yeah?” he says. “Why?”
“You’re a gay man. And you can’t get over Jack Kennedy dying.” says Lacey.
His smile drops and he blinks.
“Why the fuck do you care so damn much?” asks Lacey.
His eyes widen. He takes a drink of his beer. “Is that offensive to you?”
“Yes.” says Lacey.
“You’ve never been loved?” he asks.
“No. Never. …But I don’t think that’s it.” says Lacey.
Love Again by Dua Lipa kindly plays for all the dangerous dumbasses of the 20th Century who believed and believe life can somehow always be happy and easy “if you’re doing it right.” Their idiotic ideology is hopeless, societally corrosive bullshit. Life should be happy, but too often humans are toxic morons and evil is real. Some people are just doomed and yet you have to try to help them anyway, when it’s safe for you.
He furrows his brow. Looks at her.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Why the hell do you give a shit about him?” asks Lacey.
He laughs. “Oh I don’t know.”
“Come on! Why?!” demands Lacey.
“You’re far preferable.” says Lem. He takes another drink.
“In bed?” asks Lacey.
“Yes.” says Lem. He stares off.
“Then why do you care?” asks Lacey.
He moves to sit next to her. “You weren’t there. I just met you today.”
“But I’m not just one person. I’m a concept.” says Lacey.
He takes another drink. “No. You’re irreplaceable.” he says. He smiles. Rests his drink on his coffee table and closes his eyes.
“But I’m also a concept.” says Lacey.
“You’re a very beautiful woman. Yes. But you’re more than a concept. …I couldn’t imagine you. I mean I could sort of.” says Lem as looks up at her before he rests his head in her lap.
“You could or couldn’t imagine me?” asks Lacey.
“I sort of could. But not well enough. You’re a lot more beautiful.” says Lem.
“But I’m a concept.” says Lacey.
“Yeah. But I think I just wanted you.” says Lem.
“But I’m a concept.” says Lacey.
“You’re a concept. Sort of. But…I’ve never met a woman as beautiful as you. And I was disappointed and…Lacey…no one else has ever heard me say this, but I am homosexual.” says Lem looking up into her eyes.
“But you want to fuck me?” asks Lacey.
He closes his eyes. Choosing his words cautiously, “No. I don’t. I want you.”
“You want me?” asks Lacey.
“Yes.” he says. Eyes still closed.
“What do you want me for?” asks Lacey.
(Adult content below)
And at that he rises and overcomes her. “I want you. I want you.” he utters, drunk.
“I’m a woman, Lem.” says Lacey.
He stares into her eyes, mouth open. He thinks.
“I know.” he says.
“Then why are you telling me you’re a homosexual?” asks Lacey.
He kisses her. “Who cares.” he says.
“I care. I’m a woman.” says Lacey.
“Oh I know. I thought you’d get what I meant.” he says. He looks shocked. “You’re extremely beautiful and I want you. But I’m actually a homosexual.”
“But how could you be a homosexual?” asks Lacey.
Lem laughs. “Because you’re so rare?” he says. He thinks. “That is probably bullshit. Isn’t it.”
“I’m also a woman.” says Lacey.
“Yeah.” he says. Then he stares into her eyes. “You’d sleep with me?”
“Yes. But I wanted to have that conversation.” says Lacey.
“We’ll have it later.” says Lem.
“But you’re sad because Jack died. And I’m here to save you.” says Lacey.
“Who sent you?” asks Lem.
“Eunice’s church.” says Lacey. “In a way.”
“Why did they send you?” asks Lem.
“I volunteered. They told me you were a sweet old man who drank too much. And Eunice explained that you were ‘Very close to Jack.’” says Lacey.
“But you’re incredibly sexy.” says Lem.
“They didn’t notice.” says Lacey. “Nobody does.”
He squints. Stares at her. “You’ve surely had boys come on to you?”
“Yes. But…so what?” says Lacey.
He sits. Stares.
“Alright. Why am I sad? Because I ruined my life!” yells Lem. His breathing quickens.
“That’s not what you said.” says Lacey.
“Oh.” says Lem.
“Are you bisexual?” asks Lacey.
Lem thinks. “No. I’m heterosexual.”
“But you were in love with Jack. And that’s why you’re sad.” says Lacey.
He thinks. “No. That’s sad. But that’s not my only problem. Actually…I’m not sure-“ he says.
He stares.
Looks at her.
“Why are you here?!?” he asks.
“I care.” says Lacey.
“Let’s go to bed.” he says.
“And take a nap?” asks Lacey, dumbfounded.
“Yeah.” says Lem, smiling slightly.
“Alright. But I was positive you were sad about Jack.” says Lacey.
“I am at times. I get sad about a lot of things.” says Lem.
“Well!” says Lacey. She stands. “Let’s go to bed then!”
He stands and they walk off. He makes love to her.
Suspirium Finale by Thom Yorke plays for the British who bravely worship Christ in terror.
Except while they make love Lem pauses.
“Why are you so distant? I need you.” says Lem. “Look at me!”
“Because I’m not Jack.” says Lacey.
“I know.” says Lem.
“So then I’ll just leave.” says Lacey. “Jack owns you or the US goes to Hell. That’s what you and everyone else in this country decided.”
Ignoring her, he finishes making love. She lays there, staring up at the ceiling afterward.
The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani plays. The American dumbasses are back again to eat styrofoam cakes and shove plastic straws up their asses.
“You’re not going anywhere!” says Lem.
Lacey looks at him. “You’re right. I’m not angry at you, really. I’m just sad.” says Lacey.
He smiles. “We’re insane.”
“No. How?” asks Lacey.
“You’re my soulmate.” says Lem. “But you’ve been brainwashed.”
“No!” says Lacey.
“No, you have. They brainwashed you. Eunice brainwashed you…into thinking I belonged to Jack.” says Lem. “Before I had a way to defend myself.”
“But no.” says Lacey.
“No? How?” asks Lem. “I’m not homosexual. At all. You’re my first.”
“I’m not that special.” says Lacey, confused.
“No. You are. And anyway, that’s not exactly it. …You’re my first.” says Lem. “And…I did that for a reason…but…I had no idea what I was missing. Because it’s different than what I expected.”
“I know.” says Lacey.
He thinks. “I thought it would be so boring. …I went on dates with girls my mother set me up with. And other people. And…I never found them as attractive as you. So when I’d try to kiss them…to see if I could get married…and be normal…I’d…feel…bored. Or repulsed slightly, at times, even. And…I figured that those women couldn’t be that different than you. Well…I mostly figured that. At times…I figured otherwise. And today…I decided to try it. I decided to let myself truly enjoy sex for once. And it was nothing like what I anticipated.” says Lem.
“You look so sexually explicit and experienced.” says Lacey.
“I’m not.” says Lem.
“Oh really?!” says Lacey, enraged.
“Really.” says Lem.
And at that Lacey marches into the kitchen and throws a plate against the wall. It breaks. Then she smashes a photo of Jack on the ground. It shatters.
“It’s over.” says Lacey. “This shitshow is cancelled.”
“I wasn’t meaning to lie.” says Lem.
“I’m not worried about that.” says Lacey.
Marieta by Sierra Maestra plays.
Lem smiles. “You’re not leaving.”
“I’ll clean up the plate.” says Lacey. And she goes to and does.
“Why? Why are we done?” asks Lem.
“Because it’s a con job!” says Lacey.
“What is?” asks Lem, going to make tea.
“America.” says Lacey.
“Because I’m not sexually experienced?” asks Lem.
“Why did you portray that image?” asks Lacey.
“To seem…worldly. And sophisticated.” says Lem.
“But how do you do that?” asks Lacey.
“You…just…take your sexuality and find a way to express it physically.” says Lem.
“I can’t do that.” says Lacey.
He thinks. Freezes. “What would it look like?”
“Well…you seem like a sexually experienced gentleman.” says Lacey.
“Yes. But I’m not. …Except I seemed like that to you. And I guess I did and do to everyone else too.” says Lem.
“Yes. You exude great sex.” says Lacey.
He freezes. “Yeah. But I’ve never had great sex with anyone but you.”
“Well alright.” says Lacey.
“Let’s…analyze you. So…what would your sexuality look like?” asks Lem.
“My name. Lacey. I’ve loved the name Lacey since childhood. I’m lacey.” says Lacey.
“Who named you that?!” asks Lem.
“I did. Well…my father sort of did. But I liked it because it’s so…defiant. Of evil.” says Lacey.
“You can’t be that way. I’m sorry. It’s too graphic.” says Lem.
“I wondered. So see…I’m at an automatic disadvantage. Because no one respects modesty anymore. But if I was to be like you…I’d go around arousing everyone who I could possibly arouse. And it’d be offensive. I’m not a slut.” says Lacey.
“Why is that offensive?” asks Lem.
“Because it’s too hot. It’s too much stimulus. It’s psychologically abrasive and uncaring.” says Lacey. “No one wants to be that aroused at random in public. Despite what they say. It’s obnoxious.”
“What do they want?” asks Lem.
“They want…you to hint at sex like we’re all fucking retards. With no imaginations. But…not actually arouse them. No. You’re supposed to promise fidelity. And chastity. Hidden in your seduction. …Your seduction is supposed to be merely a hint at…potential sex. Not a promise of anything at the moment. And at the moment it’s supposed to be extremely…sweet and endearing and loving.” says Lacey.
“So it’s a farce.” says Lem.
“Yes. …It’s all a lie. Because seemingly very few people are as good at sex as we are.” says Lacey.
“I think you’re good at sex.” says Lem. “Have you had a lot of sex?” He pours tea.
“No. Just once.” says Lacey. She sits down on his sofa.
“With who!?” asks Lem.
Lacey laughs. “Have you ever read The Sun Also Rises?”
In Ear Park by Department of Eagles plays.
“Who did you sleep with!?” asks Lem.
“Robert Cohn.” says Lacey.
“Who is that?!?” asks Lem, in fear.
“Harold Loeb. He’s and older man. Of course. But…my father loves to keep intelligent company. And…we know him through a family- Are you familiar with Howard Hawks?” says Lacey.
“Oh. Okay. …So…you learned how to be good in bed from him?” says Lem.
“No. I don’t think that that’s how it works.” says Lacey.
Silence.
Lacey rises and goes into the kitchen. Sees Lem stand there still. Pondering.
“Who broke up that marriage?” asks Lem, sensing her there.
“No one. It just didn’t…happen. I think he’s still secretly in love with Brett Ashley. Isn’t that funny?” asks Lacey.
“No. It’s not funny. It’s sad!” says Lem.
“No. It’s funny. Because…it…just is.” says Lacey.
“But you got hurt.” says Lem.
“Yes. But now I’m with you.” says Lacey.
“Yeah.” says Lem.
They stand in silence.
“We’re getting married. If you love me…we’re getting married.” says Lem.
“I hate this country.” says Lacey, sitting down at the table.
“All of it? My ancestors started this country.” says Lem.
“So did mine. And I hate it.” says Lacey.
“Do you hate New York?” asks Lem.
“No. New York is New York. But it’s awful too…in a way. This country is rotten.” says Lacey.
“Where did your ancestors come from?” asks Lem.
“Here. And Boston.” says Lacey.
“Oh! You’re Dutch?” asks Lem.
“Yes! And English. And German.” says Lacey. She thinks. “And somewhat Norwegian.”
“Oh.” he says. His breathing quickens. “Let’s make love.”
“Why?” asks Lacey.
“Because. I’m in love.” says Lem. “And you’re just sitting there.”
Keen to Cross the Pond 