“I’ve never lost my cool like that in a press conference before,” said the mayor. She exhaled, shut the office door, and threw her portfolio on the mahogany desk.

“You haven’t. I don’t think anyone was prepared for that,” replied her deputy, his eyes cautiously meeting hers. “You have to remember, this crisis has affected everyone in that audience, every reporter, every parent in this town. They all know someone who overdosed. It’s not political for them; it’s personal.”

She sunk into the leather swivel chair. It rolled almost as emphatically as her eyes.

“I know it’s personal, and I know they’re suffering, but it’s not my fault. I didn’t prescribe Oxycontin to anybody. I didn’t kill anyone. This town is too small to be creating such massive issues for itself. But I’m doing everything in my power to help, and it’s my job to be political—”

“It’s your job to serve the people of this village, and you simply cannot lash out at every heavy question a News 12 correspondent throws your way. Think of how it looked to the people in that auditorium, their foremost public servant behaving like a child because she didn’t appreciate a very valid question about three opioid deaths in one week.”

“I didn’t see it that way.”

“Well I did.”

There was a painful pause. The mayor said nothing.

“Listen, I’m not trying to make this any more difficult than it already is. We need to release a statement. An apology. We can’t just let this go,” said the deputy sternly.

“What am I supposed to say? ‘I’m a bad, bad mayor?’ That I should resign before I start shrieking at every journalist and addict and family of a victim in this town? That I’ve been nothing but a disappointment to everyone who’s ever trusted me? That I’m a petulant, incompetent piece of—”

“‘I didn’t mean to hurt you’ would be a decent start.”

Alison was folding a pile of white t-shirts while she was watching the evening news.  She sat on her grey micro-suede sectional and placed each carelessly folded t-shirt on her brass coffee table, with the enthusiasm of a conveyor belt worker doing their third overtime shift.  Gary stared at her for a moment from the kitchen doorway.  He most admired her in her purest form: no makeup ,leggings  one of his t-shirts, and her sun-kissed caramel brown hair thrown up in a messy pony tail.  He approached her as if he were on his tip toes, but he was actually flat on his feet.  He sat down beside her, forcing her to readjust herself on what was a perfect position on the couch.  He wrapped his arms around her athletic shoulders and whispered,  “Happy anniversary baby”, as he kissed her cheek.  “Thanks”, said Alison, as she tossed another white t-shirt on top of the pile. Just then, Gary grabbed her right hand an placed a small, black velvet box in her palm.  “You deserved this ten years ago, but deserve this, and so much more today”.  Alison quickly opened the lid to the box which revealed a two carat, cushion-cut solitaire diamond, atop a yellow gold band.  “It’s nice”, she said, as she laid the box down on the coffee table.  “Come on”, said Gary quietly, “put it on your finger”.  “I know whose finger this would look great on’, she snapped.  “Face-time your mom and show it to her”, whined Gary, in a soft voice.  “She’s at work”, snapped Allison.   After a brief moment of awkward silence, “I worked on that ring for a long time.  It was either that or my head in a box.  I hope I got it right for you” he said, as he pursed his lips and laughed out of his nose.  Alison moved the ring to the side to make room to form another t-shirt pile on the table.  “Come on, try your mom.  She can take a minute to answer the phone.  She will love this ring”.   “What she would really love is your fucking head in a box”, snarled Allison, without taking her eyes off of the television.  “I can’t believe you would say something that is so hurtful”.  “Well I did”.  With that, Allison stood up and furiously looked around at both end tables and a console table.  “Where the fuck are my keys?’ “I put them on the door hook for you”.  “Please, do not do me any favors!”, said Allison, as she slid her feet into her slides and then slammed the front door behind her.

 

Zac – I just saw your brother on St. John’s.

Angel – Ok? But not interested.

Zac – Angel, why are you behaving like that?  You need to have a heart of forgiveness. I’m not saying to become his buddy again, but                  try to let go.

Angel – You don’t know how hurt I feel when I think about what he did.

Zac – I know.

Angel – No! You don’t.  Just leave it alone Zac.

Zac – One day you’ll regret it Angel.  Don’t let it get to that place.

Angel – Well, when I get to that place, I’ll let you know how I’m feeling.

Zac – …So what is for dinner?  I hope is something fun.

Angel – Why don’t you go home!

Angel – Zac, I think I’m having feelings for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Naisha storms into Sofia’s bedroom as she is on the phone with someone.

Naisha: We need to talk.

Startled by Naisha’s abrupt appearance, Sofia hangs up the phone. Naisha takes a sit on her bed.

Sofia: What now Naisha?

Naisha: I…..I can’t do this anymore.

Sofia: Do what? What is it now?

Naisha: We can’t be friends anymore.

Sofia: Wh-what? What do you mean? Where is this coming from?

Naisha: I know Sof.

Sofia: Know what?

Naisha: About him. About the guy you’re falling for.

Sofia feels her heart drop. 

Sofia: How? I mean who told you that? Did you look through my phone again? What is wrong with you?

Naisha: No Sof. I’ve just noticed it and put two and two together. You’ve been so sneaky with your phone, you barely make time for me, I can tell things are just…different.

Sofia: I’m so sorry Naisha. I love you with all my heart. You know that. I thought it wouldn’t bother you. I didn’t mean to hurt you Naisha I swear.

Naisha: Well you did and you know how much I love you.

Sofia attempts to hug Naisha but she stands up.

Naisha: I’m sorry Sof. It’s time I put myself first.

Sofia: No Naisha stop. Please don’t do this. We can fix this.

Naisha goes to kiss Sofia’s forehead, opens the door, and leaves.