Open Mic Night at Westminster Cemetery

by Mary Amato

  BILLY (stands): I’m willing and able.

  LACY: We aren’t quite ready yet. We still need a sign-up sheet—a paper where people who want to perform can write their names.

  Raven gives Sam an encouraging caw and a look that says, “Lacy needs a sign-up sheet, man, so snap to it.”

  Sam leaps forward, opening his satchel to offer his help, when Billy sees Sam’s journal and pencil and grabs them both with an affable smile.

  BILLY: Thanks!

  Billy writes “Sign up here to preform!” in Sam’s journal, rips the page out, and hands it to Lacy along with the pencil.

  [Yes, dear Reader, I am as outraged as you are. To grab anything out of anyone’s satchel is plain rude. Even if Billy is being cluelessly enthusiastic, the moment should belong to Sam. But look! Lacy’s soul is just as sensitive as ours and she’s about to fix things.]

  LACY (smiling at them both): Thank you, Billy. But Sam should keep track of the sign-up sheet since it’s his pencil and paper. Will you hold onto these, Sam? Whoever wants to sign up will need to borrow your pencil.

  SAM (taking the items from her with a relieved smile): Yes, of course! I’d be delighted.

  BILLY (feeling the first prick of jealousy): I’ll be too busy drumming anyway. On stage. With Miss Lacy.

  SAM (after a glance at the writing on the sheet): Yes, well, from the way you’ve misspelled the word perform, I’d say that a drumstick is a better instrument for you than a pencil, Billy.

  [Ha! Good one, Sam—you might be saying—that’s the way to let him have it! It is amusing to see rivals jabbing at each other, isn’t it, dear Reader? There is, however, an important key difference between Sam and Billy that you should know. Unlike Billy, who stalks off because he can’t think of a witty retort, a wince of regret crosses Sam’s face as soon as he lets the quip fly. The Golden Rule—the one that says you should treat people as you would like to be treated—has always been the one rule that has made perfect sense to Sam, and he knows that his impulsive jab at Billy just now was immature. Lacy, who can’t help feeling pleased that these two are both trying to win points with her, sees Sam wince and thinks it is adorable. Unfortunately, she doesn’t say so outright and Sam is too busy looking down to see her smile, and so he will miss this confidence stimulator.]

  Suddenly, the voices of the Spindly sisters capture everyone’s attention.

  EFFIE: Mrs. Babbitt!

  NEFFIE: Mr. Babbitt!

  Peter’s announcement has roused a dozen Sleepers out of the graves, residents with one or two strikes whose curiosity has pushed them to rise. For the regulars, it is a reunion of old friends. Effie and Neffie rush to greet Mildred and George Babbitt, a couple with whom they used to enjoy playing a card game called Whist. Explanations about the evening are given and several brave souls cluster around Sam to sign up. As the preparations and salutations continue and Sarah happily rushes to serve tea, no one seems to notice the usually pervasive Mrs. Steele, who is sitting still with her face toward the stage, trying very hard to hold onto the belief that this entire affair will not get out of hand.

  MARIA: I think everything is ready, Miss Brink. We should begin the show.

  Lacy looks out. The residents are perched on tombstones in front of and around the space designated as the “stage.” The regulars—the Spindly sisters, Maria, Dr. Hosler—are sitting with the newcomers, chatting and already having a nice time. Sarah is standing in the rear with her teapot, ready to refill teacups as needed. Billy is on one side, waiting to help. Sam is on the other, holding the sign-up sheet. Virginia has taken a seat a few feet from all the others. Cumberland, not knowing where to sit, stands awkwardly by the doorway of his crypt.

  Nervous but excited, Lacy steps forward to begin and then realizes what’s missing.

  LACY: The microphone!

  The regulars look at each other. Of course no one has been buried with a microphone. None of them has ever seen one. Lacy’s distress touches Sam and he steps forward, but Billy beats him to Lacy’s side.

  BILLY (whispers to Lacy): What does it look like?

  Lacy whispers a quick description in his ear. Billy’s eyes light up, and he runs over to George Babbitt and borrows his cane. With a bold flourish, he shoves the cane into the ground in front of Lacy, pulls a kerchief out of his pocket, and polishes the lovely silver knob at the top. Voilà. A “microphone” of sorts, at just the right height for Lacy.

  LACY: Thank you.

  BILLY (beams): Your happiness is mine.

  Sam clenches his fists in frustration, and then, realizing that he has just crumpled the sign-up sheet, catches himself and smooths it out. He is determined to find the next opportunity to impress Lacy. Perhaps, if he can find the courage, he will even perform a poem!

  Scene 8: Showtime

  With the moon hanging like a spotlight in the black sky, Lacy steps up to the microphone, top hat on. Billy is on her left. Sam is on her right. To her delight, the crowd keeps chatting, so thrilled to be out, so happy to be participating in some form of communal entertainment that they don’t even notice that she’s ready to begin. Even Owen Hapliss is responding. Although he is still at his spot against the side wall of the church, he has turned to face the stage, and his back is straight, his eyes bright. Lacy smiles and waves at him to come forward, to take a seat closer. Shock sweeps over his face, and he shakes his head. This girl is sweet but naïve, he thinks. No one here would want him to sit near them.

  Billy taps his drumsticks against a tombstone to get the audience’s attention.

  LACY: Hi . . . Welcome to Open Mic Night at Westminster Cemetery. (Quite suddenly the crowd hushes, and Lacy’s legs begin to shake.) Wow. It’s so quiet. Um . . . Um . . .

  Sam knows a thing or two about nervousness, and he can tell that Lacy’s mind has gone blank. He waves the sign-up sheet at her and his sweet, helpful expression gives her the boost she needs.

  LACY: Okay. Before the show begins, let me explain how it works. Sam has the sign-up sheet. (She smiles.) Thank you, Sam. At any time during the show, you can add your name to the list if you want to perform. I’ll start at the top of the list. When I call your name, just come up. Let’s be supportive and make it an atmosphere that feels safe and open. Everybody’s welcome.

  Without a word of warning, Mrs. Steele steps out of the shadows and walks toward the stage. At the sight of her, George and Mildred Babbitt get up quietly and return to their graves. Billy quickly reclaims his cap from the stone angel statue on which he had so casually thrown it and hastily buttons up his jacket.

  With a cold smile, Mrs. Steele chooses to perch on a tombstone near the open area that is serving as the stage, a spot where everyone can see her. She turns and catches Sarah’s attention to bring her a cup of tea.

  Six more residents get up and return quickly to their graves, Cumberland Poltroon among them. Virginia rolls her eyes at his cowardice. Just when things are getting interesting, she thinks to herself.

  Lacy knows what the old woman is doing. It’s brilliant. She’s using her own presence like a weapon, reminding everybody that she’ll be watching for the slightest act of impropriety. She might as well have stood up and read a warning. Those who are remaining in their seats look terrified. Some of them probably want to go to their graves, too, but are afraid to even do that.

  Sarah comes around behind Mrs. Steele with the tea, her hand shaking so much the cup is rattling against the saucer. As she passes by Raven, perched on Poe’s monument, the bird quickly turns, lifts his tail, and adds a tidy dollop of seasoning to the tea. Everyone but Mrs. Steele sees this. A stunned Sarah stands frozen, looking into the teacup.

  Mrs. Steele notices Sarah, beckons her over, grabs the teacup from her, and takes a sip. Quickly Sarah returns to her post.

  Smiles are hidden.

  Virginia, who wouldn’t dare tattle on Raven, does see an opportunity to gain points with Mrs. Steele. She moves to Mrs. Steele’s table and asks if she can join her, and Mrs. Steele motions for her t
o sit down.

  The two women clink their teacups and then look at Lacy with almost identical smirks.

  It’s enough to make Lacy scream, which is exactly what Mrs. Steele wants. Lacy feels the anger rising and struggles to keep it under control.

  Sam wants to help, but he can’t think of anything to do.

  After another moment or two of silence, Mrs. Steele speaks.

  MRS. STEELE (loudly): If this is what the Moderns call a performance, I must say I’m confused.

  Virginia laughs and a few of those who feel a need to ingratiate themselves with Mrs. Steele follow suit.

  Lacy wants so badly to call them both out, to say that they are being bitches and everybody knows it.

  Mrs. Steele can see it in her eyes and leans forward eagerly.

  Lacy will not give up. She takes the sign-up sheet from Sam and returns to the mic.

  LACY (defiantly): We are going to have a great show. See, this is what I’m talking about. (She holds up the sheet.) Seven people who I don’t even know have signed up. That’s amazing. That’s seven people who have something inside of them that they want to share, and here is the opportunity they’ve been waiting for. Give it up for . . . Rosalind Boyd. (The audience is silent. Lacy realizes they don’t know what “give it up” means.) Let’s have some applause. Come on up, Rosalind!

  The audience applauds. No one comes forward. The applause dies out and there is an awkward silence.

  VIRGINIA (happy to deliver the bad news): I believe she went back to sleep.

  Mrs. Steele chortles. Lacy gives her a look.

  LACY: No problem. (Reading the next name on the sign-up sheet) Okay, let’s welcome Edmund Harris. (Another round of applause. No one steps forward. Lacy moves to the next name.) Edith Robb?

  A girl sitting at a table on the side quickly gets up, and Lacy begins to breathe a sigh of relief, but then she runs toward the back and dives into her grave.

  LACY (to Mrs. Steele): You’re scaring them away.

  MRS. STEELE: Me? I’m just sitting here enjoying my tea. (She takes another sip.) A little salty tonight, Sarah.

  Raven coughs.

  Lacy reads the other names on the sheet and no one steps forward.

  Sam wants to rescue Lacy, but the only thing that would really help her now would be to stand up and perform. Raven nods at him as if to say, “You can do it!” Sam is about to step forward, and a grateful Lacy sees this, when Virginia calls out.

  VIRGINIA: Why don’t you show us how it’s done, Miss Brink?

  MRS. STEELE: Wonderful idea, Virginia. Please do, Miss Brink. Recite us one of your poems. You promised us entertainment.

  BILLY: I’ll help! I’ll give you that beat you were talking about.

  Before either Lacy or Sam can object, Billy beats out a rhythm with his sticks and the audience happily claps along.

  MRS. STEELE (straightening up with mock interest): Ah, we’re finally going to hear a poem.

  Lacy wants desperately to rise above the negative vibes and deliver a piece, something that will prove to Mrs. Steele and to everyone here that people like Mrs. Steele can’t win. She closes her eyes and listens to the rhythm, but she keeps seeing the mean old woman’s imposing glare in her mind’s eye.

  MRS. STEELE: Am I missing something? I thought a poem had words.

  Lacy feels something inside her deflate in a rush. She steps back from the mic, and the rhythm dies out. Mrs. Steele leans forward, hoping Lacy will explode. Instead Lacy turns her back to the audience, furious and humiliated. Sam tries to think of something to say to Lacy, but Billy simply drops his sticks and rushes to her side.

  Mrs. Steele stands.

  MRS. STEELE: The show is over, ladies and gentlemen. Clearly Miss Brink misled us. She can’t provide us with entertainment of even the most basic kind. According to Rule 246, any resident who appears to be unsuitable to a given assignment can be given a different assignment. Mrs. Clemm, I suggest that, regardless of her interview, this girl did a better job at collecting termites than hosting an open mic and so she should resume her position on the Termite Collection Committee.

  With a pop, Mrs. Steele removes the cane “microphone” from the ground. She marches over to George Babbitt’s grave and knocks. When his arm emerges from the grave, she shoves the cane into his hand, and the arm and cane descend out of sight. Next she marches back to the stage, lifts Dr. Hosler’s top hat off Lacy’s head and, with a surprisingly athletic snap, sends it sailing directly back to its owner. Finally, she turns to Lacy and smiles, waiting for her reaction. Determined not to crack, Lacy doesn’t move.

  MRS. STEELE (turning to the remaining crowd): Even though it is early, I suggest that everyone get to bed. We’ve already had our tea.

  It is taking longer than Mrs. Steele thought for Lacy to get her third strike. She hoped the mere appearance of Billy would bring out the girl’s indiscretion. Then she was sure that Lacy’s disappointment over the open mic would do it. Well, it isn’t over yet, she thinks. Without another word, she retires to her grave and closes the door behind her.

  Most of the other residents hurry off to their graves; it is painful for them to watch the young newcomer suffer and to be powerless to help.

  Now, it’s just Raven perched, as usual, on Poe’s monument; Owen in the shadows against the wall; Billy and Lacy on the stage; and Sam off to the side. Hesitantly, Sam walks up to them, trying to find a way to interrupt. Their backs are to him. As Sam approaches, he can hear what Billy is saying.

  BILLY: You have every right to be mad, Miss Lacy.

  LACY: It’s just not fair for one person to have so much power over everybody.

  BILLY: Well, it’s over now. Why don’t you come along and sit with me? There’s a nice view from my gravestone. Your troubles will seem smaller from there. (With a dimpled smile) I guarantee it.

  Sam can’t bear it. Mistakenly, he thinks he can’t compete with Billy. He turns and runs to his grave, telling himself that he has lost her. If Lacy goes into Billy’s grave and they get caught, that’s the end of her. If Lacy goes into Billy’s grave and they don’t get caught, they’ll probably fall in love. Either way, Sam is out. At his grave, he turns and gives her one last look, and then he leaps inside.

  In the next second, Lacy pulls away from Billy, turns to see an empty graveyard, and her heart breaks. She was hoping to see Sam. He must be too afraid of getting in trouble to think of hanging out with her. Still, she didn’t think he would go to bed without even saying good night.

  BILLY: What do you say, Miss Lacy?

  As Lacy turns back to face Billy, the door to Mrs. Steele’s grave opens a crack. The old woman peeks out, ready to pounce.

  LACY: Thanks for the offer. But I think I need to be alone.

  Mrs. Steele scowls.

  BILLY: My coffin is small, of course, but . . . (whispering with a smile) we could get away from all these stiff collars.

  LACY: Thanks, Billy, but I’ve got to think things through alone.

  BILLY (points): I’m right over there if you need me.

  LACY: See you tomorrow.

  Lacy turns and Mrs. Steele quickly ducks back down. Billy retrieves his drumsticks and saunters back to his grave.

  Lacy sits on her bench, and over the next few minutes, Mrs. Steele peeks out. When she sees that Lacy is unlikely to get into trouble by herself, she gives up and goes to sleep.

  One by one the residents fall asleep in their graves, and the energy of the graveyard changes. The silence is deeper.

  Clouds drift in front of the moon, and Raven looks up. Lacy looks up, too. At the sight of the familiar white orb, both the girl and the bird fall into meditation.

  [You, dear Reader, surely have had this experience. After a whirlwind of a day, you find yourself, quite by accident, noticing the moon, and something about its gentle objectivity comforts you. The moon does not threaten. It does not judge. It just orbits. Romeo vowed not to swear by the moon, calling it inconstant, but he was wrong. The moon is our uncond
itional companion. It doesn’t wax and wane—the light upon it merely makes it look as if it does. We know this in our bones. And it is precisely this constancy that reaches toward us like a loving hand while we are gazing up and releases a tiny latch on the door of our souls. This is why our thoughts run deep when we are meditating under the moon.]

  Now Lacy is pondering the fact that the moon she is looking at is the same moon she has gazed at through her bedroom window, the same moon under which she has written so many poems, the same moon her mother and sister could be looking at tonight. She replays her arrival in the cemetery, her struggle to understand what happened, her failure to perform during the open mic. She pictures Sam’s face and wishes that he would appear and sit here with her. She wishes she would have told him how she feels about him and wonders if she’ll get the chance.

  After a few moments, Virginia peeks out of her grave. She gives Lacy a cold look and tiptoes over to Cumberland’s crypt.

  Lacy watches her calmly. Her mind is clear and she is in the mood to speak the truth.

  LACY (softly): I could tell on you right now.

  Virginia turns, leaving one hand on the crypt door, and looks at Lacy, surprised. She quickly regains composure.

  VIRGINIA: But you’re not going to. I’ve spent a century ingratiating myself with Mrs. Steele, a strategy that has given me a certain amount of power here. I’d find a way to turn any betrayal of yours around to work against you.

  LACY: Actually, you’re right about the first part. I wouldn’t tell on you. But it’s not because I’m afraid of you, Virginia. It’s because I sympathize with you.

  Virginia’s haughty look disappears for an instant and then she quickly slaps a cold and guarded expression back on her face.

  VIRGINIA: I don’t know what you mean.

  Lacy stands. She has a distinct advantage over Virginia. She knows things about her, lots of things, thanks to the report she wrote on Edgar’s life back in seventh grade and because of the field trip she took to their house.