A Certain
Amount of Depth
Text ©2008 The Angst Guy (theangstguy@yahoo.com)
Daria and associated characters
are ©2008 MTV Networks
Feedback (good, bad, indifferent, just want to bother me,
whatever) is appreciated. Please write to: theangstguy@yahoo.com
Synopsis: Quinn Morgendorffer and David Sorenson meet in Lawndale
just before Quinn’s senior year, and they try to resolve troubling issues
between them from the time when he was her tutor a year earlier (in Is It Fall Yet?).
Author’s Notes: The events in this one-scene script take place during the
summer after the Daria TV movie, Is It College Yet? PSAT and SAT test
scores for college entry have been converted to “P-STAT” and “STAT” scores, per
the TV movie, Is It Fall Yet? Further
notes are at the story’s end.
Acknowledgements: The beta-readers for this story did an excellent job and
are commended here for catching some errors and making me rethink large parts
of the story. The result has substantial differences from the earliest version.
My thanks to: Brandon League, Cimorene, RedlegRick, Galen Hardesty (Lawndale
Stalker), Robert Nowall, Crusading Saint, Steven Galloway, Thea Zara, THM, and
Wyvern.
*
EXT = Exterior scene
1. EXT: A SUMMER NOON, VILLAGE GREEN,
It is a warm, cloudy summer day on
DAVID: [surprised]
Quinn?
QUINN: Hmmm? [looks up, gasps]
Oh, David! [uncrosses legs, puts book aside] Hi! How’ve you
been?
DAVID: [hesitates]
Fine. How are you?
QUINN: Great! C’mere, sit down a
minute. [scoots over on bench, pats empty space on bench
beside her] Small world!
DAVID: [hesitates]
Yeah, sure is. [sits down on other side of the bench, well away
from Quinn] I’m sorry I haven’t written much. Did school go well?
QUINN: Oh, it was okay. I did okay. I’ll be a senior this
fall. How about you?
DAVID: [nods] I
head back to Bromwell in a few weeks—my second year. I’m visiting family,
working on a project paper. I had to get out today and take a break.
QUINN: [nods,
smiling] Bromwell. I know someone else heading there as a freshman in a
couple weeks, a friend of Daria’s. My sister’s going to Raft.
DAVID: Well, there are other things to do in
college towns besides party all night. [awkward pause] How
are your friends doing, the others that I tried to tutor?
QUINN: Ah . . . well, we had that Fashion Club thing, you
know?
DAVID: [nods, looks
pained] I’m afraid I do. [nods toward her book]
Aren’t you afraid they’ll see you reading outdoors and throw you out of the
club?
QUINN: [glances at
book] Oh! No, they’re over that. See, we broke up. The Fashion Club broke
up. I mean. We’re all still friends, the four of us, but the Fashion Club’s
history. We all quit at the same time.
DAVID: [sad smile] I thought choosing eyeliner and nail polish colors would
always be the rage with the brain-dead crowd.
QUINN: [quickly]
Oh, no. I mean, fashion should be fun, but it shouldn’t be your whole life. The
club was getting in the way of our being friends. It’s kinda
strange, isn’t it? They’re still my friends, but we don’t go on and on forever
about fashion stuff so much now. We talk about other things, important stuff.
DAVID: [sad smile
fades] Probably not history or math or current
events.
QUINN: Oh, no, except maybe for current events if there’s
a sale or something. We just talk about life and stuff. We’re a little nervous,
like, about the future and things like that. Lots of changes are coming up,
being seniors and going to college and what are we going to wear to the prom,
what are we going to do once we graduate, that sort of thing. [clears throat] So, how’ve you been since last
year?
DAVID: Well . . . okay, I guess. Bromwell’s been a lot of
work. I’m a history major with a minor in literature. I got engaged in January,
but—
QUINN: [startled,
but brightens] Oh, that’s wonderful! Congratulations! I mean,
a guy as smart as you, that’s great!
DAVID: [painful
smile] Great that someone smart could get engaged?
QUINN: Sure! [backtracks instantly]
No! I mean, that’s great that you’re engaged! You got lucky! [backtracks instantly] You got a lucky girl!
DAVID: [smile fades]
Not really. We broke up a couple months ago. It
didn’t—
QUINN: [look of
horror] Oh, no! I’m so sorry!
DAVID: It didn’t work out. It . . . it’s not a long story.
She liked the fun, I liked the studying, she found
someone more fun to be with. Not worth going on about it.
QUINN: Oh! [puts her hand out to
touch David’s arm, then realizes what she’s doing and jerks her hand back]
Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that. Well, you know, there’s plenty of other fish
in the barrel. You’ll catch someone else before too long, I’m sure, someone
good. Is everything okay?
DAVID: [shrugs]
I’m okay. [pause]
How about you? Any good news in your life?
QUINN: Oh . . . well, my grades are okay, I’m about a B
average. I won’t be going to Bromwell—[brief
laugh]—but maybe I can get into Raft if I’m really lucky. [grins, looks away for a moment] I might tell Daria I’m going
there just to tick her off. Sisters are like that sometimes. I’d rather go
somewhere in
DAVID: [intrigued]
What’d you get?
QUINN: Oh, um—[looks
at sky, thinking]—I got a twelve-oh-four combined.
DAVID: [blinks in
astonishment] Didn’t you have, like, a nine—
QUINN: I had a nine fifty-five on the P-STAT last year. I
took the P-STAT when I had a really rotten headache, and between your tutoring
and Daria finding some study books for me, I did okay on the STAT. It was hard.
DAVID: But—that’s fantastic! That’s wonderful, Quinn!
QUINN: [hesitates,
then shrugs] Mmmm—yeah, it’s okay.
DAVID: [incredulous]
What? You’re kidding! A twelve-oh-four is really good!
I can’t believe you jumped that far.
QUINN: Well, it’s just a test score.
DAVID: [hesitates,
deflating] Well, maybe, but it will do wonders for getting you into a good
college. You said Raft? Raft’s pretty choosey.
QUINN: Yeah, but
DAVID: [concerned
look] You wouldn’t pick Raft just because of the
lobster, I hope. Have you picked a major?
QUINN: Oh, mmm, business, I
think, maybe whatever route you take to get into fashion design. I know loads
about clothing and makeup, can’t let all that go to waste. A mind is a terrible
thing, and all that. I might go into business on my own, be an enterpriser.
DAVID: Entrepreneur. Raft does have a good business setup.
You’d have to study like crazy, though. College isn’t at all like high school.
QUINN: Oh, I know. I’ll study, don’t worry. I can do that
okay now. You and Daria showed me how. I just want to go to college someplace
where it’s fun. It’s important to keep some balance in your life—study, party,
study, party, maybe party some more, study the night before the exam to make up
for it, and so on.
DAVID: [pause, then
a long sad sigh] Quinn, I can’t believe that . . . after all the work you
did, and how excited you were about raising your test scores and bettering
yourself, and reading more and learning about history and all that . . . I just
can’t believe you—
QUINN: You can’t believe I’m not any deeper now than I was
then. [shrugs, sad voice] I am what I am, David.
DAVID: [looks
disturbed] I wasn’t going to say “deeper,” just . . . more serious, I
guess. [looks down at the paperback book Quinn set aside]
At least you’re reading. [nods head at Quinn’s book] You’re sure that
the fashion morons won’t throw rocks at you?
QUINN: [looks down]
Oh, don’t call them that. They’re not morons. [picks up book, holds cover up to David—it’s The Collected Works of Emily Dickinson] I read a little.
This is pretty good. I bought it over at Books by the Ton, at the Mall of the
Millennium.
DAVID: [surprised]
You’re reading
Emily Dickinson?
QUINN: [sighs] Yeah. [opens book, flips to a page] You know, I read
some of this to the girls. Stacy got all teary eyed, which didn’t surprise me at
all, but Sandi said maybe she should read some of it because poetry is
fashionable in small doses, though I think some of what I read to her made her
cry a little later on. I could tell. Tiffany . . . oh, well. [shrugs, reads book, quotes] “Your riches taught
me poverty. / Myself a millionaire / In little wealths . . .” [flips
a few more pages] I like how
DAVID: [taken aback,
softly] Yes, I do, very much. I haven’t read anything by her in a long
time, though. Getting ready for exams and papers pushed the
poetry out.
QUINN: I started reading her stuff earlier this year. [pause, quotes, looking at her closed book] “I
lost a world the other day. / Has anybody found?” [pause] It’s good. Reading stuff like this makes me like
reading a lot more. I mean, I wouldn’t want to live at the library like my
sister would if she had the chance, but—[shrugs again]—eh. Like Sandi said, in
small doses, poetry is probably good for you.
DAVID: [troubled
look] I thought for a minute that you’d given up on literature and
studying, that you were . . . still the same Quinn you were before I started
tutoring you.
QUINN: [shakes head
slowly] Oh. Well, yeah, I guess I am. I’ve always known what sort of person
I was. Daria made a movie of me once for class, about me and my fashion life,
and I’m still the same kid I was then. I do some things differently, though,
since you and I were together. After we broke—[flinches]—after your last lesson, I read loads, just tons. I don’t
know what came over me. I tried to read all kinds of things. I did it in
secret, didn’t even let my parents know what I was doing. Hid
everything under my bed. Poetry was best. I read a lot of that. [indicates her closed book, quotes softly] “Proud
of my broken heart since thou didst break it, / Proud of the pain I did not
feel till thee . . .” [taps book with
fingernail] I like
DAVID: [increasingly
uncomfortable] Have you read any Shakespeare?
QUINN: You mean like Romeo and Juliet? [shrugs] I liked that one, we had
to do it for class when Daria taught school during the teachers’ strike—[sees David’s surprised look]—oh, yeah, a
lot’s happened since you’ve been gone—but anyway I had to read that Romeo
stuff, like, four times to figure out some of the parts. It’s such a pain to
get through the weird words Shakespeare uses and the really prehistoric way he
writes. The way he wrote, I mean, since he’s been dead so long. It, like, bends
your brain around to figure out what he was saying. Someone should clean it up
a little so people could understand it better, like the way they turned the
Bible into a comic book, so people could figure out what’s really going on.
DAVID: [smiles]
I don’t agree with the comic-book idea, but I do agree that Shakespeare’s hard
to understand sometimes. You have to work at it. I sure do.
QUINN: [look of
disbelief] You can’t figure him out, either?
DAVID: Well, I can, but only because I’m used to reading
what he wrote. I can follow him pretty well now. The English language has
changed so much since he was alive, it’s hard to
follow what he’s saying without a lot of effort.
QUINN: [nods] Too bad he wasn’t born in the Sixties or something. I tried
reading some history, too, this book I got from Daria—[makes a yuk face]—A Journal of the
Plague Year. That was awful. You told me about the Black Death, I remember
all that, but reading about it just totally grossed me out. I could barely get
through thirty pages of it; I skimmed the rest and gave it back. If that Daniel
guy wanted to say that the Black Death was all sucky
and everything, hey, I got the message. [pause] There was
a little poem at the end, though, that reminded me of part of that poem you
made me read, the, uh, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” I can’t remember the
words to it now, but it was about one guy living through some big disaster. The
words sounded the same. I should look it up again and see if they were alike.
DAVID: [pause, looks
at Quinn] This . . . isn’t what I thought I would
say, but you’re a lot smarter than I thought you were last year. I get this
feeling that you act like you’re the same old Quinn, but you’re not.
QUINN: [stares at
David a long moment, very low voice] No, not really. I mean, I’m still the
same, just like that old song.
DAVID: [indicates
her book] Well, I disagree. You’re reading
QUINN: [shrugs, low
voice] Reading it doesn’t make me any less shallow.
DAVID: [hesitates,
taken aback] Doesn’t make you less shallow? Where
did you get that?
QUINN: [sighs,
tiredly] Oh, come off it, David. You told me to my face the last time we
were together that I was shallow. At least you were honest.
DAVID: [pained look]
Quinn, look, when I said that a year ago, there was some truth to it, but
you’ve really changed. There’s something about you that—
QUINN: [mildly irked]
No, David. Just be honest with me, okay, instead of making nice like everyone
else? You really opened my eyes about the real me. I used to think that being
smart was just geeky and awful and gross, just for people like Daria, and I was
happy with that, pretty much. I knew that being pretty but not very deep was
the real me. It was okay. Then I met you, and suddenly I realized it was sort
of fun to be smart, if you knew all the fun stuff that smart people knew. You
get taught all the boring stuff in school, but you showed me all the stuff that
was great to know, and where to find it, and that was the best. But—that was
just, like, gossip and stuff—funny little bits, but not really deep
bits. You told me all the nasty tricks some presidents tried to get away with,
and what the British really thought about the American Revolution, and how
America got named for that sort of a nobody from a long time ago, but none of
that was deep stuff. That stuff didn’t make me any less shallow, and you
even said so yourself, the last time we were together. Don’t you remember?
DAVID: [slowly]
I guess I thought you’d remember the really important things we talked
about—bettering yourself, reaching for higher goals, changing the inside you. I
thought—[Quinn starts to laugh]—I
thought that—what are you laughing about?
QUINN: [still
laughing a little] Oh, David. You were the first guy I ever knew except for
my dad who didn’t look at the outside me, and Dad’s a little sort of, “Heh-LO-oh!” so he doesn’t count. You were the first guy who
ever really looked at the inside me, and you told me it sucked. Well, not in so
many words, but it sucked. And you were right. You didn’t treat me like
most guys do, you know?
DAVID: [confused]
Quinn—
QUINN: Hey, let me talk for a while. This is your big
chance to find out if something you did as a teacher had any effect on your
student, right?
DAVID: [pause,
concerned look, low voice] Okay, but—
QUINN: I was saying that you didn’t treat me like any
other guy would. Guys just look at me, the outside me, and they think, whoa,
Quinn’s got great hair and a cute face and a great body and I want her for my
girlfriend—oh, yeah! That’s all that’s going on upstairs with them. [pause, stares at David] You looked beyond
that. You saw the real me, and you didn’t like it. [pause] It hurt, but I think I
needed to hear that, David.
DAVID: [concerned]
Quinn . . .
QUINN: What?
DAVID: Where are you going with this? Something’s way off
here. You just told me that you knew the real you, you knew what you were like,
and now you say I told you the very same thing, but it hurt to hear it from me?
Is that what you mean?
QUINN: [irritated]
Look, you wanted to know how things were going for me, and I’m trying to give
you the four-one-one. [calmer]
What I meant was, I’m doing okay. I just don’t have
the illusions about myself I once did. [sighs, looks off in
the distance] I had the illusion that not being deep was okay, and now it
isn’t. It took a while to sink in, though. At first I was stuck on all the
wrong issues. So like me. For a few weeks, I hoped you’d change your mind and
call me for a date, but no, you—
DAVID: [angry] Is this still about going out with me on a date? Is
that it?
QUINN: No! Listen, I know I’m not explaining this well, but just listen. Okay, I sent you e-mails, asked
how you were doing, what was going on, and you sent me a couple lines if you
wrote at all, and finally I got it. It wasn’t the dating that was the point.
The point was that you gave me a chance to be less shallow, and I tried to get
there. [pause]
I didn’t make it, but I did try. I tried really hard. I’m glad for the chance
you gave me, anyway, but now I know that smart deep people just don’t go out
with shallow less-smart ones.
DAVID: [disbelief] Quinn, that wasn’t the point at all! You’re still
talking about us dating! I wasn’t trying to seduce you!
QUINN: David—
DAVID: Let me finish! Dating you would’ve been unethical.
I was your tutor, you were underage—you know what I mean?—and it just
wasn’t going to happen! What I liked about you was that you were the only one
out of your brain-dead group who ever had any potential upstairs! It was never
an issue about the two of us going out together!
QUINN: [soft voice]
Oh, it was an issue for one of us, at first. You know it was. [sad smile] I was really out of place, wasn’t
I, when I asked you out?
DAVID: [taken aback,
angry] Hey! Cut it out!
QUINN: [evenly]
Hey, cut what out? You said we were from different worlds, and I’d never like
your world or fit into it. I couldn’t believe you’d even say that. I mean,
everyone’s different, even my friends and I are different, more or less, and
what would be the use in dating someone who was exactly like you? You may as
well stay home, then. I didn’t think I was that out of place to at least ask
you out.
DAVID: [angry]
Quinn, that’s not the point! When I said we were totally different, I meant we
have nothing in common. I wanted to find someone who . . . well, someone with—
QUINN: [low voice]
Someone with depth, you said. Someone
with a certain amount of depth.
DAVID: [less angry but
uncomfortable] Well . . . exactly. Someone who had seen something of the
world, knew what was going on in the world, someone who understood what
suffering and pain were all about, not—not some fluffy—oh, you know what I
mean!
QUINN: [glum look]
I do know what you mean. And I don’t have it. [stares at David, low voice] God, do you know how much that hurt to
realize that?
DAVID: [stares at
Quinn, calms over a long pause, soft voice] Sometimes . . . most of the
time, we get wiser only from experiences that hurt.
QUINN: [nods slowly]
I can see that. Now. [long pause] You know, I read something in a book last year I got from
Daria. She was going to the library and I asked her if she could get me a book
that was fun to read, but one was intelligent, too, and she got me this book
called, um . . . The Forgotten . . . Monsters . . . no, The Forgotten Beasts
of Eld. Yeah, The
Forgotten Beasts of Eld. It was by a lady named McKillip.
DAVID: [pause]
I’ve heard of that one. Haven’t read it yet.
QUINN: [tired voice]
You should. It’s good. I don’t remember too much of it
now, except for this one little part. There’s this talking pig, I forget his
name but it wasn’t Babe, and he tells this really short story about a giant who
gets hit in the eye with a rock—sorry, this part’s sort of gross—and the rock,
when it hits him, turns one of his eyes around so his eye is looking into his
head, into his mind, and the giant drops dead from what he sees there. [pause] Do you get
it?
DAVID: [pause,
stunned] Yeah. I get it.
QUINN: I got to that part and stopped reading for a while,
because I knew that the giant was me. See, I was fine, walking along, having my
fashion life, esteeming myself like I always do, for all the wrong reasons, and
this rock—you—came along and hit me and got me to look inside myself, and—well,
what I saw there just about killed me. I mean, there was nothing there. You
know, if I were an ocean, you know, some really Atlantic-sized swimming pool,
you wouldn’t even get your feet wet wading across me. [deep sigh]
DAVID: [shakes head]
I think you’re guilt-tripping me, and you’re being too hard on yourself,
anyway.
QUINN: Maybe you’re being too nice on myself.
I tried reading some other books. I thought maybe I could read a book that was
really deep, that maybe I’d learn something from it and be a little more like
you, so I asked Daria and she got me this book by a guy named Olaf someone, I
think he was from Minnesota. The book was called Star Maker. [rolls eyes] Whoa, that was weird. I had a lot
of trouble with that one.
DAVID: [frowns,
though he seems relieved for the change in conversation] I don’t think I’ve
heard of that one.
QUINN: Yeah, it was way out there, science fiction. It was
really hard to read. It about this guy who goes outside at night and lies down
on the grass, and all of a sudden he’s flying through space like Superman,
flying from planet to planet, and—how do I put this—he starts meeting all these
aliens who are like him, sort of like super ghosts or something, and they
decide they want to meet God, and wooo, I didn’t know
what was going on after that. Time-traveling, I think. I think they did meet
God, sort of, but God wasn’t at all what they thought. I skipped a lot where it
got like really dense and I read the ending, to see what he learned, and I
guess he was happy just to be who he was, and he was glad to be a part of it
all, part of everything. I’m not explaining this very well, but—you know, I
felt like I liked who I was and I liked the world, too, so there must have been
something else in there that I missed. I don’t know what it was. I gave up
trying to read really brainy books after that. I thought you were right, you
were in your world and I was in mine, and if I thought I was climbing out of my
world into yours, my brain was in a frying pan on drugs or something.
DAVID: You’re sure you’re not talking about being pissed
at me because I wouldn’t go out with you?
QUINN: [quiet anger]
I’m talking about trying to climb out of myself, David. I’m talking about me
being one big pit, a hole in the ground, and me trying to get out of it. [pause, looks away] I kept reading, anyway.
Daria went to the library a lot because she had a lot of papers to write, and
sometimes I’d ask her if she could get me a book, and she’d find one for me. I
asked her once to find me a book where someone shallow has some good stuff
happen to her, something happy to read, and she said I should read this book
called Candide, which I don’t know anything
about, but all the copies were gone so instead she got me The Princess Bride.
Somebody Gold wrote it, Golding, Goldstein—
DAVID: [after a
pause, low voice] Goldman, I think. William Goldman. I’ve heard of that
one. I saw the movie.
QUINN: Whatever. That book started off great, but there
was this part in it where, um, Buttercup, she’s the really shallow girl, really
pretty but she’s dumb as a rock, and there’s this cute guy who works on her
farm, Westley, and one morning she tells Westley that she loves him, and he shuts the door on her.
She goes a little crazy after that, thinking he doesn’t love her back, but it
turns out that he shut the door on her so he could get ready to seek his
fortune overseas and come back and marry her, or
something like that, and he really did love her. He loved her loads. You got
this so far?
DAVID: [very pained
look] You’re not going to ask me if I love you,
are you?
QUINN: [looks
surprised, bursts into nervous laughter] Oh, my gosh!
Oh, no! No, I’m not! How—oh, I get it! I see how—no, David, I’m not going to
ask you that. Oh, no.
DAVID: [grimaces]
I’m sorry. Maybe that was a stupid thing for me to say.
QUINN: [waves it
away] Oh, forget about it. I know that you . . . that . . . anyway, that’s
not the point. Buttercup waited for Westley to come
back to her, but one day her parents told her that Westley
had been killed by pirates, and she sort of lost it and locked herself in her
room for days, and when she came out, she was very sad but very wise, and she
was the most beautiful woman in the whole world, but she made up her mind that
she would never love again.
DAVID: [after a long
pause] Quinn, I really hope you’re not telling me this because you’ve
decided to do the same thing. You would—well, you’d be
crazy if you did, really. The book does go on after that part. She does learn
to—
QUINN: [makes
dismissive gesture] Yeah, but I didn’t read anymore after that. That was
enough. [pause]
I’ve had a whole year to think about what you said, the last time you were
over. You said I paid you a big compliment when I asked you out, but it was . .
. oh, I guess it was like one of those Epsilons asking out an Alpha, you know,
from that book, New World Order—no, wait, don’t tell me—Brave New World.
I read only a little of that one. I asked Daria to get me a book about smart
people and stupid people trying to live together, and she must have
misunderstood me because I wanted a romance, and she got me that one. I read
some of it but gave up because it was too weird. Epsilons—hmmm, I guess
actually I’m more of a, um, Gamma, a good-looking Gamma. I could see where
you’d be flattered by me asking you out, but it would be, oh, sort of like a
bug with mold on it asking me out. Different worlds.
DAVID: [shocked]
Quinn, damn it, that’s not fair! That wasn’t what I meant at all! You’re all
hung up on you and me, and I want you to knock it off!
QUINN: [leans
forward toward David, intense expression] You
don’t get it. This isn’t about you and me. I’m trying to tell you what’s gone
through my head for the last year, and you aren’t getting it. This isn’t about
you, David. It’s about me, me and my future. I mean, sure, you’re the only guy
I wanted to go out with who didn’t want to go out with me. You counted, David,
but—[sees David about to protest]—wait!
It’s not about me dating you! None of this is about me dating you now! It’s
about me hooking up with anyone in the future who’s worth being with! [agonized look] Don’t you get it?
Quinn and David stare at each other. David
calms, looking uncertain.
DAVID: [low voice]
Go on.
QUINN: [agonized
look] See, you wanted someone you could talk with, someone with a certain
amount of depth. How are you—or anyone else who wants that—going to find any of
that in here? [points to her head] I should be grateful to
you, and I am a little, even as much as it hurt to hear what you said, because
you gave me the chance to change, to make more of myself. [angrier] I wish to God it had
worked. I’m still the same old Quinn, inside and out. I’m like Buttercup, maybe
not quite as dumb as she is, but—[pause,
stares at David, sighs]—there’s no Westley. I
finally realized I’m not smart enough or deep enough to have the kind of
partner I really want. I don’t mean just you, David. I mean someone
who’s smart and good with kids, someone who’s patient and strong inside and
funny and sweet and doesn’t just look at the outside me, but can see the inside
me, too. I want someone who loves the inside me! [long pause] And that’s—[voice cracks, but she clears her throat and recovers]—that’s the
problem, David. There’s nothing inside me to see or to love. I don’t have
a chance of finding a smart, sweet guy who helps other people be more than they
think they are, someone really nice, someone like you.
Not a chance.
DAVID: [pause, dry
mouth] Quinn, good God, that’s not true. That’s just—
QUINN: David, you’re such a sweet guy, you really are, but
you’re not being honest anymore with me. I still like you, but I don’t like
like you, like I did. [pause] You know, you’re the only
guy that I ever said that to. I still can’t believe I really said that to you,
you know? I don’t even slow dance until the fifth date, and for a long time I
didn’t let anyone have more than three dates with me, because none of them
could see the inside me—[angrier]—but
what’s the point of all that now? Why bother? If anyone could see the
real me, the inside me, they’d laugh, or they’d walk off, like you, or else
they’d drop dead from what they saw in me, just like that giant. Just like I did. And you know what? I don’t care anymore. I
give up. [holds up paperback] I can read Emily
Dickinson all day long, but being smart in knowing stuff isn’t really like
being deep. I guess I mean wise when I say deep. You’re right, people who are
deep know what it’s like to be hurt, but you have to have had something inside
you to begin with, don’t you? It’s like math, isn’t it? Zero times anything is
still zero. You have to go with what you’ve got, David, and what you’re looking
at is all I’ve got!
DAVID: [very upset]
Quinn, this is . . . you can’t be serious about what you’re saying! You’re
smarter than this!
QUINN: [with
emphasis] Smart isn’t deep, David. I’ve known smart people who were pretty
stupid about life and stuff, smart people who were really shallow. It’s not
stupid, really, but that’s not the point. If there was a way I could be more
than me, maybe not smarter but a lot deeper, I’d try it, but I can’t believe it
would work. I’d be like that guy—oh, see, I asked Daria to get me a book about
a stupid person who got really smart, and she got me, uh, Flowers for
Algernon. I read that and cried for hours. That was the saddest thing ever.
He got smart and wise and it killed him, sort of like that giant in the pig’s
story. I knew then that I was stuck forever being who I was. I can push the
plastic envelope a little here and there, but I’m still going to be me. Zero
times anything is zero. [pause, stares at David] You’ve got to see it
all now, David. What’s the use? Tell me, what’s the use of trying?
DAVID: [agonized
look] Quinn, I don’t know if you’re guilt-tripping the shit out of me, or
if you’re serious, or you’re all messed up or what, but what you’re saying is wrong!
You’re just wrong, damn it! People suffer everywhere on this earth, and what
makes you any worse off than them? Do you think you’re the only person ever who
thought she was shallow and wasn’t going to find anyone to love her? What the
hell do you think I’ve been through? I found someone who was everything I
thought I ever wanted, the greatest woman on earth, and she dumped me for some
guy who drinks too much and screws around on her, someone who’s—[with angry emphasis]—more fun
than I am! Someone who doesn’t study as hard as I do, so I can get good grades
and get a good job and have a good life to share with someone else! What the
hell did she want? Why the hell did she ever go out with me? Was it me or her,
or both of us, or what? [throws up his hands] I don’t know, and I don’t
give a damn anymore, either, and now you tell me that I screwed up your whole
life because I told you something you already knew, that you were shallow—and
you were, a year ago! You’re sure as hell not shallow now, reading your
damn Dickinson and books I haven’t even read, and tearing your heart out and
bleeding all over me because you want to be loved! You think you’re the only
messed up person in the whole world? You’ve been messed up for just a year, and
there are some people out there who’ve been messed up their whole damn lives!
You have it made! [sighs]
Jeez!
David pauses, out of breath, and runs a hand through his
curly hair. He and Quinn sit forward on the bench, half facing each other.
QUINN: [looks up at
David, faint smile appears as she speaks] So . . .
you’re saying that I’m not only shallow, but I’m an amateur at being messed up?
DAVID: [coughs,
relaxes, doesn’t look at Quinn] Yeah, you’re an
amateur. You don’t have any real experience at being messed up, suffering, all
that. You got the wind knocked out of you, but—
QUINN: [smile fades,
serious look] You’re making fun of me, my getting
hurt. Don’t do that. I’ve been hurt before by other things.
DAVID: [tired]
I’m not making fun of you. I’m sorry. I talk before I think sometimes.
QUINN: That why your fiancée left you?
DAVID: [looks at
Quinn, pained, then looks away] Ouch. [pause]
Yeah, that was—that was part of it. I said some things, and she got pissed, and
she found someone else, and that was it.
QUINN: [eyes David
carefully] So, are you seeing anyone now?
DAVID: [suspicious
look at Quinn, sighs] No. I’ve been studying. It keeps me going.
QUINN: I’ve been dating three or four times a week minimum
for the last three years. That’s my average. You wouldn’t go out with me, but
in the last year, I’ve gone out with, um, about a hundred different guys, from
my school and two others.
DAVID: [looks at
ground, depressed] Thanks. You’re being a big help.
QUINN: [thoughtful]
However . . . in the last year, I’ve been thinking a lot about all that dating
and who I date. I like nice guys, guys who like how I look, but I’ve
started to think that I’ve . . . I want to say that I’ve not been myself when I
go out. I worry about people seeing me as, um, who I really am, you know? And I
notice that I only date shallow guys. [laughs] There aren’t many guys who aren’t shallow, not at my
school, but I notice that I avoid the ones who might not be shallow at all.
Except that those guys are total nerds, no social skills, won’t even open the
door for you. [makes a face] You see?
DAVID: I think I see. I think. You’re saying I’ve ruined
you again.
QUINN: Oh, duh! No, that’s not it. [pause] You know what I want to
believe?
DAVID: [exhausted]
I haven’t a clue.
QUINN: [looks away,
softly] I want to believe that somewhere out there, there’s a guy who isn’t
shallow, and this guy can see the real me, and this guy might like the real me
inside me, if he could see it. That’s my dream. It’s pathetic, but that’s what
it is. [long pause] I need to change who I go out
with, the whole dating thing. I’m tired of everyone around here. If I don’t do
something and climb out of the pit that I am, I’m going to end up dating Kevin
Thompson this fall. You wouldn’t know him. He was a football player held back
after he flunked his senior year, so he’ll be in my classes now. He’s a
quarterback who doesn’t know a thing about poetry or art or literature or
history or anything, not even who’s president, much
less what a pedagogue is. You see?
DAVID: [groans in
total defeat] I see. You’ll be his main squeeze if something drastic
doesn’t happen real soon to get you out of your pit.
QUINN: [nods]
Yeah. You were paying attention after all.
Quinn stares at David, who stares at the ground. Neither
says anything for a long while.
DAVID: [exhausted
monotone] What time do you want me to pick you up
tonight?
QUINN: Seven.
DAVID: Formal or casual?
QUINN: Mmmm, casual. I’m going
to try things a little differently. I’ll wear something like what I have on
now, but with long pants. Slacks for you, shirt—don’t wear silk—and something
besides sneakers. And wear socks. I’ll trust your judgment on color.
DAVID: [finally
looks up] You want to tell me the place, or
surprise me?
QUINN: Actually, I think pizza would be fine. We can sit
in the booths and talk for hours. I think I’d like that. Just talk. Find out a
little more about each other, you know? I’m not going to worry about making
myself up so much, and just be more like . . . me.
DAVID: [nods]
Okay. Is there any way I can keep my dignity?
QUINN: Oh, silly, of course not. I mean, I won’t make you
be cute or anything, but everyone’s going to see you with me. I promise,
though, not to let them laugh at you or call you a geek or anything. [smiles] You’ll
have fun. You’ll manage.
DAVID: [sighs, looks
at the ground] You really scare me.
QUINN: Good. [reaches for nearest of
David’s hands, gives it a squeeze] If depth doesn’t work, fear will do.
You’re a quick learner. Plenty of hope for you yet. [lets go of his hand]
Quinn quickly collects her diet soft drink and book, and
she gets up from the bench.
QUINN: You remember where I live, right?
DAVID: [looks up,
nods once, points in the distance] You’re a block
over that way, the red brick house on Glen Oaks.
QUINN: That’s it. [brightly] See you, David! [starts to walk away toward her home]
DAVID: [calls after
her] Quinn?
QUINN: [stops, looks
back] Careful, David. Don’t spoil the moment.
DAVID: [sighs] You were waiting for me here, weren’t you? I mean, you
weren’t just sitting here and I happened to walk by, and . . . you know . . .
because I sometimes walk through here going from the library to my parents’
house, or . . . [runs out of things to
say, gestures briefly, stares at Quinn]
Quinn looks at David for a long moment. She takes a step
toward him.
QUINN: [quotes
DAVID: [sags back in
his seat, soft voice] Bye.
Quinn doesn’t look back as she leaves the park. David
watches her go until she is out of sight, as he sits beneath the oak in the
warmth of the day.
*
“The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” by Samuel Taylor
Coleridge
A Journal of the Plague Year, by Daniel Defoe
Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley
The Princess Bride, by William Goldman
Flowers for Algernon, by Daniel Keyes
The Forgotten Beasts of Eld, by Patricia A. McKillip
Star Maker, by Olaf Stapledon (an
Englishman, not a Viking)
Poems by Emily Dickinson:
“Your riches taught me poverty”
“If you were coming in the fall”
“I lost a world the other day”
“Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it”
“Who never lost, are unprepared”
The poem at the end of A Journal of the Plague Year
goes:
A dreadful plague in
In the year sixty-five,
Which swept an hundred thousand
souls
Away; yet I alive!
The stanza from “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” of which
Quinn was thinking was:
The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy
things
Lived on; and so did I.
Original:
8/14/02, modified 1/20/03, 06/18/06, 09/22/06, 10/02/06, 11/05/08
FINIS