Better Places to Go by David-Matthew Barnes Read Free Book Online

didn’t. He liked me and it made me feel something inside. I’m lonely and I think I’ve been lonely for a long time. But it wasn’t until I met him that I realized how much the loneliness was killing me. (Beat.) God, I want to be married, Linda. I want to have a house of my own with nice wallpaper and clean carpet. (Beat.) I want children.
    LINDA. I wish you were my mother.
    JUDY. (After a moment:) Maybe I could be.
    LUCILLE. (She enters from the main entrance, wet from the rain. LUCILLE is a woman in her sixties, flamboyant and odd. Her fascination with aliens has invaded her wardrobe, as she resembles a walking science project, complete with a rocket-like backpack. She is a conversation piece and she thrives on this, relishes in the attention.)   This is different than I thought it would be. This is where she was killed?
    JUDY. Lucille –
    LUCILLE. Was this where it happened, Judy? Answer me.
    JUDY. Right here. In front of God and everyone. I’m so sorry –
    LUCILLE. I was expecting something else. I thought there would be blood and yellow police tape and chalk lines where her body was. (Beat.) Where’s the FBI? Didn’t anyone collect the evidence? I thought it would be like Law and Order . (To Linda because she’s there:) I like that program.
    JUDY. The sheriff was here for an hour. And the coroner.
    LUCILLE. I’ve already been there. I took one look at her and said, “Well, she looks a little swollen, but that’s her. That’s my ungrateful granddaughter.”
    JUDY. (Unsure how to react:) You must be torn apart right now.
    LUCILLE. It’s a very sad situation, but let’s be honest. (A secret:) No one exactly liked her. I knew she’d fall into an early grave.
    JUDY. Lucille, you’re upset right now. You don’t understand what you’re saying.
    LUCILLE. You’re expecting me to cry? I’ve already been through this before. I’ve lost two husbands – one to cancer and one to Vietnam. My son has been arrested twice. My daughter left town with her head hung low and her bra tucked in her purse. I’ve known grief in my lifetime, Judy, but this ain’t it. Rosie chose her own path. The minute she got mixed up with that man, she was sealing her fate. Her mother at least did the right thing and left town before this place killed her. Rosie might’ve been my only grandchild, but she was never my pride and joy. She lived with me for free, ate my food, slept in my house, wore me out with her constant complaining. There was no love lost between us. She was a very angry girl. She hated the world.
    JUDY. Well, if there’s anything I can do –
    LUCILLE. Thank you, Judy. I appreciate that. I’ll be boxing up her things this weekend. Come by and pick them up. Give ‘em to the church if you want. I got no use for ‘em.
    JUDY. The church will gladly accept your donation.
    LUCILLE. Well, they should. They’ve been cashing my checks for thirty-two years.
    JUDY. You give money to the church?
    LUCILLE. I don’t have to spend time in that place to talk to God. I can do that at home without all of those eyes staring at me and those mouths whispering about me when I walk by. (Again, to Linda:) This whole town thinks I’m crazy.
    JUDY. We didn’t know where you were. When the sheriff was here, he said they couldn’t find you.
    LUCILLE. (Excited:) I was out in the fields. There was a sighting in Kearney two nights ago. It shouldn’t be long, Judy. They know I’m ready to go.
    LINDA. Go where?
    LUCILLE. You’re not from Grand Island, are you?
    LINDA. No, ma’am. I’m from Harmonville.
    LUCILLE. A place the pioneers should’ve destroyed.
    JUDY. This is Linda. She’s –
    LUCILLE. About eight months pregnant.
    LINDA. Seven and a half.
    LUCILLE. And either homeless or single or both. Your folks turn their backs on you?
    JUDY. I don’t think Linda’s relations are of our concern.
    LINDA. My boyfriend Alfred was mean to me. I left him at a gas station and I came here.
    LUCILLE. You should have waited for another