Open Mic Night at Westminster Cemetery

by Mary Amato

  If I were a magician and could turn your pain into a shape, I would form it into a termite that I would gladly swallow for you.

  You may not be able to believe me, but I believe that your pain will lessen with time. Your soul is too buoyant and beautiful to stay mired. In time, you will heal. And I want to do everything in my power to help speed you into a happier embrace.

  With eternal love,

  Sam

  Sam sits back, surprised at himself. Raven nods. After a breath, Sam rolls the letter tightly and holds it out. Raven flies down and takes it in one claw. As soon as the great bird lifts into the air, Sam winces but doesn’t call him back. Raven lands on Lacy’s grave, pokes the small cylinder of paper into the earth, and flies back to Poe’s monument.

  Just the tip of the paper is visible above the ground. Sam watches and waits, imagining Lacy in her grave looking up and pulling the letter in to read. Minutes pass and the paper remains untouched, for Lacy has fallen asleep. Knowing there is nothing more he can do, Sam sighs and returns to his coffin.

  Even Raven settles down on top of Poe’s monument, tucks his head under one wing, and closes his eyes.

  [The dark silence ticks, but look carefully, dear Reader, just beyond Lacy’s grave. If you are observant, you will see what Sam—and even Raven—did not notice: the door to Billy’s grave is raised a crack. Billy has been watching.]

  Quietly, Billy emerges, tiptoes to Lacy’s grave, grasps the protruding tip of the letter, and pulls it out. Raven looks. Billy, seeing Raven’s movement out of the corner of his eye, turns his back to the bird and secretly pops the letter into his mouth. As he walks back to his own grave, he chews and swallows every bit.

  Scene 4: Hoaxes

  How many souls are turning in their graves? At the moment, our hearts are with one: poor unsuspecting Sam, tossing in his grave, innocently waiting to see if his beloved will offer sweet reciprocation of a letter she will not even receive. Just before midnight he finally falls into a deep sleep.

  Now the bells begin to toll, and Lacy is waking. It is the third midnight here at Westminster, and what Dr. Hosler said in scene 2 about how quickly we adapt to our circumstances is true. Lacy continues to have questions about her death and concern for those she left behind, but the midnight bells have tolled and there are people and things here to deal with.

  She hops out of her grave. The sky is clear of clouds. The glowing moon appears as if a stage manager has just pulled off the gray silk that had been draping it. Lacy’s mind is clear too, and, thinking of Sam, she races to his grave. Not daring to knock for fear of waking his mother, she sees that he has left his satchel out. She can leave him a message. He’ll be thrilled to discover it. From it she pulls his pencil and paper. Hastily she writes a note:

  Dear Sam,

  We have a plan for a new open mic. I want you there but don’t have time to give you all the details. An announcement is going to be made about your mom winning a fake award and you’ll be included in the invitation to a ceremony in the catacombs. Make up an excuse to stay here. Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything and convince the others. I have been missing you! I need you. Love, Lacy

  It feels good to write this note. Sam’s absence has been bothering Lacy. We are elated, too, believing that there is hope for Sam after all.

  But a sound changes everything. Billy, having crept behind Lacy, clears his throat.

  Lacy turns, note in hand.

  BILLY (whispers with a smile): There you are! I couldn’t wait to see you. (He looks at the note in her hand and quickly pulls her away from the Steele plots.) Come where we won’t have to whisper.

  Lacy can feel his interest in her, and she wants to tell him that as much as she appreciates the attention, she has feelings for Sam. But before she can speak, the regulars rise, earlier than usual—Owen, Sarah, the Spindly sisters, Dr. Hosler, Maria, Virginia, and Peter—and Edgar pops out halfway and waves. Thrilled, the regulars pull Lacy into their company and gather around Edgar’s grave. Maria—his Muddy—crouches down and plants a kiss on the top of his head. Loving the attention, Edgar improvises a new verse for his famous “The Bells” poem in a hushed whisper, and the residents, including Lacy, get into the rhythm, tapping their toes, nodding their heads, and eventually breaking into an absurd kind of tiptoe dance.

  EDGAR (singing):

  Hear the shrieking of the bells

  Midnight bells!

  What a cheeky sneaky plan their creaking now foretells

  While the moon is looking down

  With a promise so complicit

  Let us wake and start the ruse

  with a gusto most illicit—

  Feel the strong thrilling rush

  Wink, wink, hush, hush

  Let the longing for adventure ring out from the place it dwells

  With the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells,

  Oh the reeling and the pealing of the bells!

  Lacy can’t help laughing. They are like kids at Christmas. Now, she decides, she will tell everyone that Sam is staying and that is that. But Mrs. Steele’s door opens, and everyone jumps into their preplanned positions.

  Edgar ducks back into his grave. Sarah quickly produces the teapot and the residents sit where they usually do, as if this were just another typical night. Billy is the only newcomer and he chooses to lean rakishly against Lacy’s bench. Knowing that Mrs. Steele will expect her to be sitting on her bench, Lacy sits down next to Billy, tucking the undelivered note for Sam into her pocket.

  As agreed, Peter and Dr. Hosler take their places in the shadows behind the church and wait until it’s time for them to appear, and the rest gather as if for tea.

  They all ad-lib small talk, pretending not to see Mrs. Steele.

  MARIA (to the Spindly sisters): Did you sleep well?

  EFFIE and NEFFIE (simultaneously): Quite.

  MARIA: Perhaps Dr. Hosler was right, and our measured perambulation before daybreak induced slumber. I slept like the proverbial baby myself.

  Maria holds her teacup out to Sarah, who pours, trying to hide the fact that her hand is shaking.

  MRS. STEELE: You’re all up early.

  MARIA (turns and acts surprised to see her): Come join us, Mrs. Steele. Nothing like a cup of tea.

  Mrs. Steele sits at her usual place, and all watch rather nervously as Sarah sets out a cup for her. Just as she is about to pour, Sam rises.

  He is on edge, as you can well imagine, assuming Lacy has read his bold declaration of love. He sees Lacy and Billy together and his heart wobbles. Although terrified, he forces himself to look at her, hoping she’ll return his gaze with a glimmer of love for him in her eyes.

  Lacy, thinking that what Sam needs right now is protection from any kind of attention from her, does not return his gaze. Sam quickly looks away, his heart breaking.

  Mrs. Steele picks up her teacup, looking at the residents with distrust.

  MRS. STEELE: Late to bed, early to rise . . . that is not typical Westminster behavior.

  Anxiously Maria coughs to get Dr. Hosler’s attention and give him a look that says: Let’s move!

  It’s all going too fast, Lacy thinks. She had wanted to slip Sam the note before Mrs. Steele emerged. Now she doesn’t know how she can give him the message.

  Maria coughs again and Dr. Hosler nudges Peter, who comes forth ringing his bell, with Dr. Hosler at his side.

  PETER: Oyez! Oyez!

  MRS. STEELE (turns abruptly to face them): What’s this?

  PETER: Hear ye! Hear ye! The President of the Committee for Safety and Tranquility has an announcement to make.

  Peter turns to Dr. Hosler.

  DR. HOSLER (removing his hat): Good evening, all. On behalf of the Committee for Safety and Tranquility, I would like to introduce a new tradition of honoring a committee president who has shown outstanding leadership in promoting safety and tranquility with an Exemplary Service Award.

  MRS. STEELE (scowling): Whoever heard of such a—
>
  DR. HOSLER: And the first recipient of the Exemplary Service Award will be Gertrude Steele, President of the Etiquette Committee.

  A surprised smile alights on Mrs. Steele’s face.

  MRS. STEELE: Oh! Well . . . I suppose a new tradition can be started.

  DR. HOSLER: It has been a challenging year and our stalwart Mrs. Steele has provided excellent leadership, which has, in turn, helped to secure the safety and tranquility of the good residents of Westminster Cemetery.

  There is a round of applause, which Mrs. Steele very much enjoys.

  Sam grows more despondent. Lacy’s ruse—which is becoming more apparent to him now—is continuing without any interruption from Lacy to include him. Forget the idea of love, she doesn’t even trust him, he thinks.

  MARIA: Congratulations, Mrs. Steele. There is none more deserving.

  EFFIE: Yes, dear.

  NEFFIE: Quite right.

  DR. HOSLER: The commendation will be given tonight in the subchamber of the catacombs where the declaration will be recorded for the Official Archives. A detail-filled and lengthy speech will be given to the honoree by myself, and we hope that a similarly exhaustive speech will be given by the recipient, which will also be written down word for word so that it can be published and read at any time by all.

  MRS. STEELE: Speeches! Oh, this is a surprise.

  MARIA: Do make it a long one, Mrs. Steele. Short speeches are so amateurish, don’t you agree?

  MRS. STEELE: Yes. Yes.

  MARIA: Oh, I must say I’m envious! How I would love to be in your shoes, Mrs. Steele. But I daresay I don’t deserve the accolades as you do.

  Maria’s lines are delivered with such cloying sweetness, we are sure that all will be ruined; but the inclination to believe what one wants to believe trumps bad acting. Mrs. Steele does not see through her. She merely nods and rises in a fog of pleasure.

  DR. HOSLER: As kin, Samuel Henry Steele is also invited to be present.

  Feeling the sting, Sam turns the color of ash. The irony! The invitation is an exclusion! Quickly he busies himself. Noticing his satchel on the ground, he hoists the strap over his shoulder.

  Lacy says nothing, determined to slip him the note as soon as she has the chance.

  As various residents step forward to congratulate Mrs. Steele, Lacy finds her moment. She brushes past Sam and drops the note in the side pocket of his satchel.

  Dr. Hosler takes Mrs. Steele’s arm and as they head toward the catacomb entrance, the residents form a line to wave and cheer them as they go.

  [We are breathing a sigh of relief, aren’t we, dear Reader? Sam will read the letter and all will be put to right. But it’s too soon. For there is Billy edging his way to the door. Watch. Just as Sam passes by, he surreptitiously plucks Lacy’s note out of Sam’s satchel and slips it into his own pocket. His own pocket! It’s appalling. It’s vile. It’s enough to make one’s blood boil. And none but us sees it.]

  MARIA: Have a grand time!

  BILLY: Congratulations, Mrs. Steele!

  EFFIE: See you in a few hours.

  NEFFIE: Take your time. Ta-ta!

  Just as Mrs. Steele is about to go through the catacomb portal, she pauses. A lengthy sojourn in the catacombs will mean that she will likely miss an opportunity to give Lacy Brink her third strike. But I deserve this award, she tells herself. Dealing with the girl can wait a little longer.

  MRS. STEELE (to Sam and Dr. Hosler): Off we go.

  Unable to look at anyone and not knowing what else to do, Sam follows his mother, diving through the doorway. Dr. Hosler, bringing up the rear, turns, winks at the residents, and shuts the door.

  And since our attention cannot be in two places at once, we must leave Sam in his grief and embarrassment and Mrs. Steele in her excitement and Dr. Hosler in his dutiful determination, and focus on Lacy and her comrades in complicity, for as soon as the catacomb entrance closes, everyone leaps into action.

  Maria and Owen both rush to Edgar and Clarissa’s graves respectively to tell them that the coast is clear. Edgar hops out and gives his beloved Muddy and Virginia hugs and kisses. Clarissa rushes into Owen’s arms.

  Convinced that Sam will find her letter and make up some excuse to return, Lacy gives her full attention to the task at hand.

  LACY: Okay! Let’s get things in place quickly. We don’t have writing time so this will be lots of improv, but take, like, at least five or ten minutes now to play around with what you have to say. I really want to encourage everybody to step up to the mic. Billy, can I rehearse a little with you? I need that beat again.

  The hum grows. While Lacy and Billy rehearse, Sarah prepares tea, Maria tries to talk Virginia into performing, and Effie and Neffie set out the shawls and the centerpiece bouquets. Meanwhile Peter rushes to the graves of the brave souls who had attended the first open mic, whispering the news and encouraging them to come out. From George Babbitt, he borrows the cane and recreates the microphone.

  After a few minutes, Maria, anxious that time will slip away, nudges Lacy to begin the show. Lacy takes her place on the stage and asks Peter to ring his bell.

  All eyes are on Lacy. Excited and terrified, Lacy looks for Sam, in need of moral support. He still hasn’t arrived. In the awkward silence, Billy jumps onstage and puts his arm around Lacy, a daring physical move that results in tittering from the audience.

  BILLY (into the mic): Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Miss Lacy Brink.

  More applause. Billy smiles and steps out of the way. Lacy thanks him and looks out at the audience. Seated on tombstone clusters around the stage are the regulars along with more than a dozen Sleepers. In clothes from various centuries and decades, they look as if they’re models from a historical costume catalog. Emanating from them is a current of hushed intrigue, but underneath them all hums an even greater energy: the Suppressed and the other underground Sleepers are straining to hear what’s going on.

  LACY: Good evening! My name is Lacy Brink, and I have something to say, first to all of you who are pretending to be asleep right now. I’m sure some of you know who I am because you’ve been listening. I’m a Modern. And I’m President of the Entertainment Committee. And Mrs. Steele isn’t exactly fond of me.

  This understatement gets a laugh.

  LACY: The first thing you should know is that Mrs. Steele isn’t here. We gave her a prestigious award . . .

  More laughs from those in on the joke. The souls below the surface begin to stir.

  LACY: . . . and she is busy receiving it in the catacombs. Tonight we’re going to do something different. We’re going to have another open mic, but this one will be real. If you are afraid or if you disagree with us for trying, that’s fine. All we ask is that you go back to sleep, mind your own business, and let us have this one night. If you want to join us, you are welcome. But first I’d like to introduce a new friend. Owen Hapliss, please come forward.

  Instinctively, the residents stiffen as Owen walks up to the stage with his huge frame and heavy footsteps. Clarissa watches from the rear. Apologetically, Owen stops and looks to Lacy, but she beckons him forward and then speaks to everyone again.

  LACY: Owen Hapliss is off duty. That means he gets to sit and enjoy the show.

  Lacy smiles and waves at Clarissa to join him at a “table” near the front. Beaming but shy, she does.

  LACY: Since Owen has the night off, that means anybody who happens to be Suppressed is welcome to come on out and join us. (She pauses to let this sink in.) I’m talking to you now, Suppressed people. You can come out. I know this is radical. You don’t have to, of course, if you’re scared. But if you want to come, you are welcome.

  The door to the Watson crypt swings open. Hand in hand, Alfred and Agnes step out. They are that kind of couple that have come to look alike over the years, both a bit on the dusty side. Effie and Neffie rush to greet them. One by one, others join, Sleepers and Suppressed residents alike, and a hushed and giddy reunion begins. Clarissa’s mother, father, and si
ster—Sleepers all—venture out and hug her tearfully.

  Peter runs around to inform the residents buried on the other side of the church. Cumberland peeks out and, seeing so many others, decides to step out. After a few minutes, a sizable crowd has gathered. There are still many who are afraid to come, but fifty of the 131 Suppressed souls have risen and seven more of the Sleepers. The little stage area is standing room only now, and the younger residents are climbing on the crypt roofs to get a better view.

  Lacy continues.

  LACY: All right, people. Welcome to the second Open Mic Night at Westminster Cemetery!

  She pumps her fist in the air as everyone applauds. Again, she looks for Sam and is disappointed not to see him, but she can’t slow down or let her energy falter. She has to do her job.

  LACY: In case you hadn’t noticed, we have a special guest here tonight, and I thought he could kick things off for us.

  Lacy leans over and asks Edgar in a whisper if he is ready. Edgar nods.

  LACY: Everybody, put your hands together for the one, the only Edgar Allan Poe.

  Scene 5: The Open Mic

  Edgar walks to the mic and all applaud. He turns and looks out at the audience, tears springing to his dark eyes.

  EDGAR (putting one hand over his heart): What a balm to my soul to know that you remember me. Thank you, dear friends and fans. (Almost choking with emotion, he gathers himself.) I shall now recite—

  RAVEN (puts one wing to his beak and calls out, masking his voice to sound like an audience member): Raven! Raven! Raven!

  ALL: Raven! Raven! Raven!

  The chant grows louder. One can only hope that Dr. Hosler is bringing Mrs. Steele to a place deep enough that she cannot hear the crowd’s enthusiasm. Edgar smiles and raises his hand, and a hush descends.

  EDGAR: I’m gratified that you want to hear my poem. In its day, “The Raven” was quite a sensation. But Lacy Brink has inspired me to perform something new.

  A sudden doubt grips Edgar. His throat constricts. He has trouble drawing a breath. His pale face turns even whiter.

  EDGAR: In truth, I may need another minute before I’m ready. This is harder than it looks.