Lem

Lem: Was there someone who wanted to know how I met Lacey? As a ghost?

A secular Somalian: I already know.

*they smirk*

Listen to “Cry Me a River” by Justin Timberlake.

A secular Somalian, in Minnesota: *Stand, outside, on a cold…rainy…fall night. Let the wind…pass over them. Embracing them with truth. Like the Holy Spirit.

They watch as white Minnesotans drive by them, often frowning. Judging. …Assuming.

And being…intelligent…they aren’t…fooled.

They feel…all of it.

And it makes them…angry.*

It’s 9:46 PM.

On a Sunday night.

In late October, during a peculiarly hot…year. In Minnesota. In 2026.

4:21

One of the Somalian youths tries moonwalking. For fun. In the wind.

The song ends.

Listen to “Summer Love” by Justin Timberlake and laugh with the young Somalians…at…white stupidity. It’s fun to laugh at yourself, if you have a quality British sense of humor.

A Somalian young man, in his spirit: I know what happened, Lem.

Lem: How are you hearing me? By the way.

A Somalian young man: My people have been through a lot of trauma. A lot.

I’m psychic. Basically.

And…this is all happening in my subconscious. I know what’s being said. But…I also don’t.

Yes, I’m in a warm coat. Playing outside with friends. We’re near our apartment building. In Mendota Heights.

I have a 10:30 PM curfew. I’ll be asleep by 11:30.

I’m 16.

Yes, I’m very smart.

I’m hoping to go to the U of M. …But, we’ll see.

I want to study…math. I love math.

Lem: What do you think happened?

A Somalian youth: *smiles*

I’m not white.

I have a very different perspective.

Lacey: I know.

A Somalian youth: *cries*

I already know…what happened.

*he blinks away tears*

*sniffles*

I’m not gay either.

*he exhales, sharply*

*he stands and watches cars drive by on the highway*

Lem was used. You saw through all of them. …And…he was the only one who really loved you. Ever.

*he wipes his nose*

*crosses his arms in front of his chest*

I love Lem! In the book? …Except, he’s not real. No man could ever be that totally self-effacing. It’s impossible.

…It would make sense if he was a nerd. You know? Like Screech, from Saved By The Bell. And somehow he got it in his head that he was gay.

Jack Kennedy didn’t support the Jews? *he laughs* OKAY!?

He was also a secret white supremacist.

*he sniffles, still staring at the passing cars, just thinking*

Except, he was also secretly hot. And some…beautiful…tender-hearted…sad woman…fell madly in love with him. …Because he was sensitive, and shy…and…he could really love her.

*he sniffles, thinking*

I don’t think he was gay.

Lacey: Jack didn’t make him angry enough?

The Somali youth: *laughs*

Yes.

Are you Jewish? You seem Jewish?

Harold Loeb: No, that’s me. I’m helping her talk to you.

You’re…an exceptionally smart person. …Under the right circumstances, you’d be a CEO making $3 million a year, in twenty years. That’s the America of the past.

I hope you know that.

A Somali youth: *sniffles*

*smiles, confidently*

I know.

*then he looks sad*

*he thinks*

Lacey: Thank you for letting us talk with you! Go home and go get some sleep.

A Somali youth: *he starts wandering back, towards his apartment, with his buddies*

A white, 20-something young woman: *crying*

They’re smart.

They’re like the Italians, Germans, and Irish. They have yet to rise to their full potential.

My people? We already did our best.

*she cries*

The Somalis make it inside, safely. Separate.

None of them are outside.

And…I have a feeling…they’re doing well in school.

The white (psychic): Me too.

I feel dumb.

Remember in class when we learned about our ancestors? That’s them.

Lacey: Why are Americans like that!?

The white (psychic): Holy cow.

You’re the ghost of a woman from the 1940’s?

You’re…-

*she thinks*

*she thinks of Fay Emerson, but can’t recall her name*

Huh. Yeah, I don’t know who you are. But I think I know who you were friends with.

You’re kind of famous!

Lacey: My dad was.

The white (psychic): No, you are too. I’m almost positive.

Who did you date?

Lem: Me!

The white (psychic): *thinks, focuses really hard*

Why do I keep seeing Lem Billings!?!?

*looks confused*

*feels scared by what she’s thinking*

*feels ashamed*

You had to be gay. He had to be…-

*she panics*

No! He was gay…

*she freaks-out, far too much*

DAMMIT!

*she rubs her temples*

Casi: HOLY SHIT!!!

HOLY SHIT!!!

HE WAS STRAIGHT.

Okay?

Fuck it.

A white (psychic): WHAT!??

Casi: *laughs*

Thanks, Louis.

*she blows him a kiss, if there’s reincarnation*

He sucked cock, but I’m almost positive he was secretly het. A lot of people got confused, back then, I think. …He was also a good impersonator.

A white (psychic): He was?

Casi: Yes.

A white (psychic): WHAT!??

*she laughs, and smiles*

Casi: *smiles, faintly*

I mean, he was ripped. Before he met Jack. And then… he got fat. Jack made him fat.

Think about it.

He’s gay? And somehow…he gets fat? And yet also scrawny? With…the love of his life!? *she smirks* No way. NO WAY.

No gay man gets legitimately ugly…in love. Maybe…relaxed. But…he had stiff competition, and yet…his body is…horrible. …He actually looks hotter again after Jack dies. Even on drugs.

I truly think he was straight. That’s not just…being comfortable. And they were never official anyway. …He looks…like he gave-up.

Lacey: He’s still handsome, but I see what you mean.

Casi: Yeah.

It’s not normal looking, for anyone in a happy relationship.

Lem: She was with no one, in reality.

Elliott was…vaguely available. So were the others. But…that kid was right, in a way.

And I just…came on to her.

*he smiles*

Jonah Wiley: Are you a demon of lust!??

Lem: No.

I’m Lem Billings.

Casi: Are you a demon of insecurity? *she says to Jonah Wiley*

*she smirks*

Lem: *laughs*

That’s actually insightful.

Yes, I still have to fight my tendency to lust. Not after men. After Lacey.

Bobby was a heroin addict. So was I.

Jack liked women, primarily. I just liked women, although…I didn’t understand myself.

Jack and I actually bonded over women. …He was…reckless. And I wasn’t. But I admired his ability to just…live.

The thing is…I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. …I hated the idea of truly promiscuous sex-

A historian: Wait.

This is really him.

…Lem…you assassinated Jack!?

Bobby: *totally drunk, and almost completely asleep, thanks to Cheryl*

*he holds a bottle of beer, sitting on their sofa, like the glass of beer is his bottle of milk…as he listens psychically, with Cheryl half-asleep, next to him on their living-room sofa*

I hear something- *he says to her, slurring*

Cheryl: *she groans, and rolls over, facing the back of the sofa*

Lem: Be careful not to make him “your closeted gay, reincarnated Chinese uncle”. It’s not safe, as funny and endearing a character as he would be.

Jim: So you really think you should be messing around with that?

Bobby: *laughs*

I have no choice.

If there’s reincarnation…I made a mistake. And now…both Lacey and I…are stuck.

If there’s not reincarnation…we are also stuck.

Maybe…we are channeling dead people.

*he shrugs*

I didn’t and don’t know. I’m sorry.

Jim: I mean homosexuality.

Bobby: Ha!

You miss your dead lover?

You miss him, Jim?

He a hot man. Huh?

*awkward silence*

Don’t preach to me. I’m not stupid.

Jim: *laughs*

But…it’s not really acceptable in the Bible.

It’s an affliction.

Bobby: *blinks*

Okay.

But we like men.

So then what?

Jim: It’s not me.

Bobby: It’s not me either.

Jim: I think Lem was straight. He’s not like us. He’s-

I can tell.

Can you?

Bobby: *cries*

NO.

*looks sad*

I’m not actually good with people.

Jim: *thinks*

Wow.

Bobby: Yeah!

*he laughs*

Cheryl: *slightly, waking-up*

Bobby. Who are you talking to!?

Bobby: Jim.

Cheryl: STOP.

Bobby: *looks defiant, smirks*

THEN I DANCE! ALL NIGHT!!

Cheryl: Ha! I wish.

Bobby: *thinks*

Cheryl: *rolls back over, to try to sleep*

A white psychic: What!?

Lem: Yes. I was straight.

Another white person: OH MY GOD!

*rolls her eyes*

A gay man, in the perfume community: Did he actually sexually come on to you???

*confused*

Lacey: Yes.

A gay man, in the perfume community: And he keeps doing that?

God: He’s been doing that…consistently…for over six years.

A gay man, in the perfume community: I’m done being so weirdly skeptical.

So…what did you do?

God: He can’t tell you that.

Lem: What are you looking for?

A gay man, in the perfume community: You actually came on to her!?

God: Yes.

A gay man, in the perfume community: Where?

God: He aggressively sexually came on to her. It was…very aggressive.

A gay man, in the perfume community: He’s not gay!

Why do we assume he was gay!?!

God: Good question.

Except, the answer is obvious: Societal norms. You can’t fathom his actual identity, yet. I’m sorry.

People aren’t that aware, at this time.

A gay man, in the perfume community: Why am I feeling like I should fight this?

Lem:

Be honest.

Does that man look like he’d like to fuck the man sitting next to him…or the woman above?

Listen to “Cry Me a River” by Justin Timberlake.

God: This is actually far more prophetic than you think.

Satan: *to his captives, who truly rejected Jesus, in Hell*

Cry me river.

*he laughs at them, for falling for his tricks*

Jonah Wiley: This isn’t funny!

Don’t mock Jesus!

Lacey: Oh! You think this is a joke?

Why?

Are you TERRIFIED?

*she laughs at him*

Jonah: No. It’s creepy and strange.

Lacey: No.

It’s not.

You’re scared.

Lem: Just answer my question.

Jonah: I refuse to take this seriously.

*he looks…offended*

Fine.

*he rolls his eyes*

He’s…-

I don’t know. I can’t tell.

God: Why?

Jonah: I don’t sit around analyzing other people, like that.

Geez!

*he scoffs*

The song plays.

Lem: Then someone else answer.

The ghosts of Woodlawn House: Obviously the woman.

But then you have admit both of their sexualities. …And no one can apparently handle that. Who’s alive?

Listen to “O Mio Babbino Caro”. By Puccini.

It’s a good song.

*they smile, joined by one Mr. Tom Skerritt*

Tom Skerritt: These are good people.

*he smiles*

I miss my kids. A lot.

But…this is AMAZING.

Listen to Sarah Brightman perform “O Mio Babbino Caro” with the London Symphony Orchestra.

A Irish nationalist: *weeps*

We did!

We had voices like that!

Tom Skerritt: I know.

An Irish nationalist: I’m sorry, Lacey.

The song ends.

Lacey: *she cries*

I’ve never been able to figure out what our beef is!

An Irish Nationalist: We don’t have one.

That’s America.

NOT US.

I find it perverse. What they did to you. I PROMISE I DO.

Lacey: *cries with them*

It’s wrong.

An Irish Nationalist: It ‘tis.

You want so badly to support us. But you feel betrayed. And I understand.

What can you do?

You poor girl.

I’m not dumb. I know what real suffering is. Regardless.

*he laughs*

WE ARE NOT IDIOTS. …Did you think WE WERE IDIOTS! *he yells at America*

A Somalian: I’m Irish. If there’s reincarnation.

I died in the Potato Famine.

And I’m in Minnesota. Right now.

I’m not dumb either.

I’ve written poetry. In Gaelic.

Yes, GAELIC. If there’s reincarnation.

Listen to “Desert Rose” by Sting.

The Somalian: Be far…FAR, more careful.

Ghislaine Maxwell: There’s no way to fix this, Chris.

*she laughs at him*