“If Casi Was Betty Draper. And If Lacey Was Betty Draper.” by A Jewish Writer

This is why we don’t know what to do in America.

Time Is On My Side by The Rolling Stones plays.

Keep in mind that Lacey might be inherently superior. Try to be empathetic and perceptive.

I don’t need to reexplain the role of Betty Draper. Do I? No.

Don comes home from work after having his first affair. Yes. His affairs started at work. He doesn’t cheat anywhere else.

Betty has been cooking all day and she’s very excited to see what he thinks of her meal. They had a horrific fight the night before and for Don that’s the only excuse he needed to cheat.

He walks in and sits down in the living room, feeling nervous. He opens the newspaper, worried Betty will detect something. His hands are shaking. He takes out a cigarette and lights it. Their young kids are playing in another room.

Casi:

“Oh! Hello!” says says sweetly. She straightens out her apron with her hands.

Don smiles patronizingly.

Casi-as-Betty shifts nervously.

Don laughs and plays off her nerves as some stupid nonsense. Puts the newspaper on the ground.

Casi-as-Betty runs to go pick it up. She puts it in his lap and almost makes a pass at him. Then she stands there staring at him, hands held in front of her. Doe-eyed.

She waits.

“Well! Betts.” says Don laughing.

Casi-as-Betty laughs at him. Then smiles.

He looks down at the ground. Thinking.

“Come!! I made you a bean casserole.” says Casi.

“Mmm. What’s it make of?” asks Don, sitting at the kitchen table.

She flirts with him. “Green beans. Tuna fish. Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup. And cheese.” says Casi. “YOU’LL LOVE IT!”

Don smiles. He’s disappointed. It sounds blasé and middle class. Like something she pulled out of their Methodist church cookbook.

“It’s not Thanksgiving, Betty.” says Don.

“Don! Just eat it.” says Casi-as-Betty trying not to fall apart.

She puts a plate on the table with a bottle of Coke and a glass and sits down to join him. She’s already eaten with the kids.

He takes a bite. “Very good!” he says. He smiles. Feels stupid. “Sorry. It just…reminded me of Thanksgiving.”

Casi smiles. Rests her head on her hand. Stares at him.

“Why are you so damn handsome?” she says, adoringly.

He looks bashful. He decides that he is just too damn handsome. And that that’s reason he cheated. He feels some regret. He furrows his brow and loses track of the moment temporarily. Then he glances up at her. Tries not to show his emotions.

He says, “This is a weird day.”

Casi-as-Betty thinks. Blinks. Looks at him blankly.

“But you don’t need to know all that.” says Don nervously. “Say! Did you hear the tennis scores at Wimbledon?”

“Yeah. It was the women’s doubles that csight my attention.” says Casi-as-Betty.

He feels a bit thrown off. “Oh?” he says.

“What did you pay attention to?” asks Casi-as-Betty.

“Oh. Not much.” he says nervously.

She stares at him. She analyses him coldly.

Then he smiles. Laughs. Flirts.

She’s shaken and amused. Blushes.

“Let’s go make-up.” he says.

“Okay.” she says.

And so they do.

Not much changes for the rest of the series. This is just the start.

Lacey:

Lacey-as-Betty let’s him sit there. Then she walks in. Drunk. She lays languidly down on the sofa, staring at him.

He looks up at her.

“What the fuck did you do?” says Lacey-as-Betty. She takes out a cigarette. Blows smoke up into the air in a dangerous, film noir manner.

He looks ashamed. He remains silent.

“Why the fuck did I marry you?” says Lacey-as-Betty.

“I don’t know.” he says, hurt.

“Okay. You’ve sold me on it. Let’s get divorced.” says Lacey-as-Betty. She stands up and waltzes away like a bored cat.

“I made you a reservation at Vinny’s.” says Lacey-as-Betty.

“Oh! Just me!?” asks Don.

“You slept with someone today. Didn’t you?” says Lacey-as-Betty.

Don thinks. Cries.

She walks in on him.

“Why the hell are you crying?” says Lacey-as-Betty. She sits down on the coffee table and crosses her legs. Studies him.

“You can’t care!” he yells at her coldly.

“No. I do care.” she says in her deep, sexy, throaty voice.

He calms himself.

“Sweetie…go to Vinny’s. Have drinks. I’ll see you later.” she says. She languidly stands up and walks out of the room. Goes to do something in the kitchen.

He thinks. Stands. “I’ll see you later then.”

“You have fun.” says Lacey, suddenly smiling a big beautiful smile. Then she goes back into the kitchen.

“I’m going to get a steak. And then take a cab home.” says Don. He thinks. “And then we’re going to buy you that diamond.”

Lacey peaks around the corner and smiles at him.

“Yeah! That huge one. The one I saw at Tiffany’s!” he says, shaking.

“The platinum one. Emerald cut.” says Lacey.

“Yes!” he says, excitedly.

“Say! You get yourself a huge steak.” she says patting his back. He laughs and walks out the door smoking.

Lacey considers what to do. She calls Elliott Roosevelt instead of her father. Why Elliott Roosevelt? Because this is supposed to be authentic. Get over it.

“Betty! Why are you calling me!?” asks Elliott.

“I need a flight out of here tonight. To Maine.” says Lacey-as-Betty.

“MAINE!?” says Elliott laughing and teasing her.

“Yes. I’m through.” says Lacey. “But I don’t want him to have a clue until tomorrow. He’s out Vinny’s tonight.”

“Sure. I’ll come visit.” he says.

“How are things with Faye?” says Lacey-as-Betty.

“FAYE? Oh. Well. Fair.” says Elliott.

“Fine. I’ll need tickets. In an hour.” says Lacey-as-Betty.

“Get your hat ready.” says Elliott. “I’ll send someone over in an hour. With tickets.”

“That’s solid gold. Hey. Thanks.” says Lacey-as-Betty, flirtatiously.

And in an hour a car pulls up with a man. He get out of the car and knocks on the door. Lacey has her bags packed. Her kids are ready. They seem unsurprised.

And so Lacey-as-Betty leaves a note:

“Dearest Don,

I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I’m sure your new girlfriend will be happier this way anyway.

Of course I took the kids. Of course.

Try not to be sad, dear. Your life has just begun! Yippee. No more ball-and-chain to ‘guide you’. Just lots of laughs.

Love you.

Your dearest Betts.”

And when he comes home later to the note he reads it, crumbles it up and then throws it away in the trash. Takes off his shoes. Sits and thinks.

Then he walks over to the phone and makes a phone call. “Hey! Hey!” he says to his girlfriend, smiling. “Hey. Yeah. No. She took the kids and left.”

The woman responds.

He listens.

“Look. Just come over! We’re gonna have real laughs!” says Don.

She responds.

“Yeah. Just come over!” he says.

She refuses to.

“Come on!” he pleads.

She refuses.

“Come on!!” he pleads, getting angry.

She hangs up on him.

He fumes and cries and then throws the phone across the room, pulling it out of the wall.

“The rich are different.” says F. Scott Fitzgerald.

“How…do you make a cohesive country out of both those groups of people?” says Matthew Weiner.

Later.

anemone by slenderbodies plays.

“Questions.

Casi. Why did you not care that he cheated?” asks a reader.

“I barely knew.” says Casi. “It wasn’t a conscious thought.”

“But you knew!?” asks a reader.

Casi thinks. “I did.”

“Lacey. …You obviously knew.

Ah…how!?” asks a reader.

Lacey thinks. “His micro gestures. My father ran the mob. He was a very important bootlegger. And he was old money. And…he fought in World War I. And…we might be Prussian aristocracy somewhere in his DNA.” says Lacey. “I think it’s in my DNA.”

“As a learned reaction.” says a reader.

“Yes.” says Lacey.

“So it’s like in Road To Perdition when they’re sitting in the offices. They’re reading each other very closely. Down to microscopic details.” says the reader.

“Yes.” says Lacey.

“What’s that like?” asks a reader.

“I’m always anxious.” says Lacey. “And yet not.”

“Do you ever let down your guard?” asks a reader.

“Almost never.” says Lacey.

“That’s also an old money thing.” says Louis Hill Junior.

“Casi. Why did you make that dish?” asks a reader.

“It was my intention to please him!” says Casi, staying in character.

“Lacey you cook. Why didn’t you cook that night?” asks a reader.

“Because I just felt weird about it.” says Lacey.

“Would you ever make that bean dish?” asks a reader.

“Yes!!” says Lacey.

“When do they make up?” asks a reader about Lacey-as-Betty and Don.

“Never!!” says Lacey. “Are you Satan?”

“Is that unforgiveness?” asks a supposed Christian.

“No!” says Lem. “It’s decency.”

“But then those kids grow-up without a father.” says a reader.

“Not necessarily. And actually…they’d be better off without him or having him in small doses in this case.” says Lacey.

“Do you still love him?” asks a reader.

“I’m killing those feelings.” says Lacey.

“But you still care about him as a person.” says a reader.

“Yes!” says Lacey.

“Casi…are you happy in the end of this brief excerpt?” asks a reader.

She thinks. “Yeah?”

“Lacey are you?” asks a reader.

“No! Absolutely not.” says Lacey.

“Do you sleep with Elliott.” says a reader.

“That depends.” says Lacey.

“Why Elliott?” asks a reader.

“He’s Elliott.” says Lacey.

“I assume you don’t know Lem in this scenario?” asks a reader.

“Not yet.” says Lem.

“Would people have gossiped about you?” asks a reader of Lacey.

“No. And yes. Mostly no.” says Lacey.

“Do you do stuff like that often?” asks a reader.

“No! But it was an emergency.” says Lacey.

“So…you are the bullet?” says a reader.

“I…avoided that all together.” says Lacey.

“What’s in Maine?” asks a reader.

“A friend’s beach house.” says Lacey. “It’s a mutual friend of Elliott’s.”

“Do you fuck?” asks a reader.

“No. That’s a vile way to describe it.” says Lacey. “Almost always.”

“Why do you copy Casi?” asks a reader.

“How do I copy Casi?” asks Lacey.

“You’re awkward!” says a queer middle class American woman.

“Oh dear GOD!” yells Lacey. “HOW!??!” yells Lacey.

“You’re straight!?” says the dumbass middle class queer woman.

“Yes. Haven’t you ever seen any of us!?” yells Ginger Rogers.

“I don’t watch old movies.” she says. “It’s true. I keep hearing in my spirit to do that…but…I have no idea where to start.”

“So that’s not masculine?” asks a Millennial woman.

“No. Absolutely not.” says Lauren Bacall.

“Crap.” says the queer woman.

“Umm. How do you copy me?” asks Casi, in her usual condescending tone. “Let’s see. You…act nice and cheerful. Like…why?”

“What are you talking about? My Minnesota Nice?” asks Lacey.

“I guess.” says Casi.

“That’s not copying you.” says Lacey.

“You never copy us?!?” asks Casi.

“NO! There’s a difference between a style and copying someone.” says Lacey.

“I agree!” says Jose T..

“I don’t understand!” says a reader.

“Okay. So…

“If you were going to copy me you’d wear almost the exact same vest. In blue. And a similar sweater. And the proportions would have to be pretty much exactly the same.

If you were to be inspired by me…you’d wear a preppy cotton sweater and a used down filled puffer vest.

That’s the difference.” says Lacey.

“Okay.” says Casi.

“Yeah. You knew.” says Lacey. “You knew you were copying me.”

“Lacey what’s up with Faye Emerson?” asks a reader.

“He’s in a bad relationship with her.” says Lacey. “She possibly cheats.”

“So you’re saving your children’s lives?” asks a reader.

“Close to it.” says Lacey.

“Why not take your money and run?” asks a reader

“Because it’s unsafe.” says Lacey.

“I have no idea why. My family never had to worry about problems like that.” says Bobby Kennedy Junior, without thinking.

“What could actually happen?” asks a reader.

“That’s just it. I was just telling someone else that we never really had that problem.” says Bobby.

“Why not?” asks a reader.

He laughs.

“Umm…we weren’t- We were never caught. And we more discreet.” he brags.

“Yeah.” says a reader.

“But you guys got shot.” says a reader.

“Oh yeah. Sure. But…this is different.” says Bobby.

“HOW!?” yells a reader.

“She’s taking a peasant woman escape route.” says Bobby.

”Bobby…no. No…she’s avoiding getting shot.” says a reader.

Bobby smiles. “Oh okay. How??”

“I don’t know. Let’s find out?” says a reader.

“It’s like this…if I left Don…there’d automatically be people who were upset. And being a woman I wouldn’t be privy to everything that was said behind closed doors. But Elliott being Elliott most likely would be. And being Elliott Roosevelt he would be safe enough for me to trust given what I know about him. And…he isn’t…rude. So…he’d understand and respect at least some of my boundaries.” says Lacey.

“How does your father see that!?” asks a reader.

“Well…and maybe that’s why he didn’t want to have kids. But also…I’m not sure he’d even allow this scenario. It’s truthfully a class thing in a way. Because…if I married Don lots of people would have to be paid off. Or something of that sort. And I doubt he would necessarily even know that. Whereas if I married Louis, for example, he’d have enough wealth to pay off the few people who would still care. And he’d offer that. Because it’d give him leverage over me and he’d feel less insecure.

Lem is just well bred enough and we’re in love enough and he’s smart enough not to be a problem.” says Lacey.

“Why did the Kennedys let Jack have Lem?” asks a reader.

“Why is that a problem?” asks another reader.

“Because he has no…clout. I bet in Lacey’s circle you’re supposed to have a higher social status. It’s like a form of capital to them. Whereas to the Kennedys and their crowd it’s meaningless or it’s impressive or it’s detrimental. …Impressive was what drew Jack to Lem. Meaningless was why Jack didn’t try more to make Lem happy too. And detrimental is why I’m baffled.

Lem could have easily helped the CIA shoot Jack. Or he likely hurt their feelings too often. Maybe he was helpful with the drapery but…I wonder if he also made them feel really stupid. Not just for what they did but for being poor-of-origin.” says a reader.

“Why doesn’t Lacey make them feel that way?” asks a reader.

“Because she’s…like Elliott. They’re…an American invention.” says Ken Burns. “It’s very unique.”

“What is it?” asks a reader.

“It’s almost too complicated to quickly describe.

Elliott is…supposedly bad with money. But is he really? …He’s got connections with people who were involved in presidential assassination plots in foreign countries. …Where did his money really go? I have a weird feeling he was very busy.

How did he seemingly easily get a man and a car and plane tickets in an hour in 1955?” says Ken Burns.

“The family she was raised in isn’t that exciting.” says Curt.

“How did your father get connected to Tom Banks!?” asks a reader.

“So…he’s closeted bisexual or gay. And he had another closeted bisexual or gay friend…who somehow found the job. In the newspaper I think. It was for a sort of servant/caregiver. Thelma likely placed it in the newspaper. And after his friend quit working there he offered the position to my father. Why is it necessary to explain their orientation? Because…there was something not…entirely platonic about how they helped each other at times. Like…why did he automatically offer my father that job? There was something almost intimate about their understanding of each other in that and many other ways. He knew my father who loves history and majored in sociology/anthropology would love that position. It was in a beautiful old house in a beautiful old neighborhood of Minneapolis and it was with my father, a historic figure. It was a fantastic place to work.” says Lacey.

“Can mannerisms be genetic?” asks a reader.

“YES!” says Audrey Hepburn.

“Lacey you sound so much more old fashioned and posh and ladylike and…old money…than you…hear.” says a reader.

“Why is that so awful?” says Lacey.

“You sound different in person. Why?” asks a reader.

“Because I can hear it a little.

I first discovered my inner voice when I was a little girl playing in my living room. I had invented this plot where I was going to really tell of these imaginary friends who were acting like my friends at school. So I dug deep within myself and tried to let my real personality come out. The one that I knew was there but I repressed out of fear. …Fear of what I wasn’t sure. And so I did that and suddenly I let out this…sharp, haughty, vicious sounding voice. I sounded very posh which was…overwhelming…but…it was fun to act with it. Because I instantly knew it was the real me. But I also could hear how scary it would sound to anyone who heard it, including my parents. So I hid it. But I’ve let it out because I’ve had to to survive being attacked by the Illuminati. Because they demand to know everything.” says Lacey.

“Who does it sound like?” asks the reader.

“Well…Bette Davis…Tippi Hedren…Marilyn Monroe… But it’s very much of that time. It’s distinctly me. But I’d say it’s most like those women.” says Lacey.

“Yes. More later.