Burying Amanda

                (LINDA and RHONDA are digging a hole in the middle of the night.)

LINDA:  I don’t think this is it.

RHONDA:  This is it.  This is the spot.  I read the instructions.

LINDA:  What did she say in the instructions?

RHONDA:  That she wanted to be by the elm.

LINDA:  How did you know it was this elm?

RHONDA:  Because this is the elm she fell out of when she was ten.  When she broke her arm.

LINDA:  So she wanted to be buried under the tree where she broke her arm?

RHONDA:  I don’t understand it either, but that’s all she said.  Maybe she didn’t realize—I don’t know.  That’s Amanda.

LINDA:  I can’t even believe we’re doing this.

RHONDA:  She’s our sister.  She asks, we do things.

LINDA:  But this is…

RHONDA:  She always said she was going to go her way.  If she got sick, or…She said she wanted to die on her own terms.

LINDA:  Yeah, but she wasn’t sick, Rhonda.

RHONDA:  She was still going to die.

LINDA:  So are we, but this—

RHONDA:  You don’t have to help, Linda.

LINDA:  Oh, come on.

RHONDA:  No.  You really don’t.  I’d understand if you didn’t want to.

LINDA:  She wanted you and me to do it.  That’s what you said, right?

RHONDA:  Right.

LINDA:  Right.  So I’m doing it.

RHONDA:  This was meant to…signify something.

LINDA:  Like what?

RHONDA:  The hell if I know.

LINDA:  Maybe she just wanted us to stop hating each other.

RHONDA:  I don’t hate you, Linda.

LINDA:  Yeah, but you don’t like me.

RHONDA:  Oh, I really don’t like you, but I don’t hate you.

LINDA:  That’s a comfort.

RHONDA:  Burying Amanda with you isn’t going to change anything.

LINDA:  Maybe she thought it would.  She was always optimistic.

RHONDA:  Yup, right up until she killed herself.

LINDA:  I blame the news.

RHONDA:  For what?  Telling us the world is going to end?

LINDA:  The way they’re going into detail.  Saying there could be fires everywhere, and rivers taking out whole cities—no wonder she figured taking a bunch of pills and being done with it would be better.  I mean, compared to that—

RHONDA:  She could have at least waited for the comet to actually hit.  Now if it doesn’t, what does she do?  Crawl out of the ground?

LINDA:  It’s going to hit, Rhonda.

RHONDA:  It might not.

LINDA:  It’s the worst thing possible.  That means it’s going to happen.  If you’re ever wondering what’s going to happen next, picture the worst possible thing, and that’s it.  That's what's going to happen.

RHONDA:  You sound like Mom.

                (LINDA looks at her.)

Do not cry.

LINDA:  Screw you.

RHONDA:  I’m serious.  Don’t cry.

LINDA:  You’re a terrible sister.

RHONDA:  Yeah, well, I’m the only one you have left.

LINDA:  Too bad it wasn’t the other way around.

                (A beat.)

RHONDA:  That is the meanest thing you have ever said to me.

LINDA:  Well, why be nice?  Why pretend anymore?  Why bother?  Everything’s ending.  We may as well say what’s on our mind.

RHONDA:  Oh, you’re so right, Linda.  Why show a little kindness in our last hours left on earth?

LINDA:  Kindness?  KINDNESS?

RHONDA:  Stop shouting.  We’re in Mrs. Porter’s backyard.

LINDA:  This is so stupid.  And morbid.  And just weird.  We’re burying our dead sister in some old woman’s backyard because she killed herself because she was too afraid of dying during an Apocalypse with the rest of us and instead she wants to spend Eternity in the place where she broke her arm.  What was she even doing here that day?

RHONDA:  Mrs. Porter used to watch us, remember?

LINDA:  God, she was old then.  She must be ancient now.

RHONDA:  Probably.

LINDA:  She was too old to be watching little kids.  No wonder Amanda broke her arm.

RHONDA:  She still did a better job than Mom.

LINDA:  Not that…never mind.

                (A beat.)

RHONDA:  The day she broke her arm Mom left work early and we all went to the hospital and then Mom took us to the beach to get doughboys and...It was a nice day.  Maybe one of the nicest.  That's the ironic thing.  The day Amanda broke her arm was actually a good day because it was a day when our mother demonstrated actually caring about us and it ended with doughboys and we were all together and so that's why she wanted to be buried here.  Isn't that sad?  I mean, isn't that just the saddest damn thing you've ever heard--Oh God, now I'm going to cry.  Oh, Jesus.

LINDA:  I want to cry too.

RHONDA:  Don't cry.  We can't both cry.  That'll be so--ugh.

                 (They sit.)

LINDA:  I am like Mom.  Mom cried all the time, and now I cry all the time.  I'm just as unhinged as she was.

RHONDA:  That's not true.

LINDA:  Rhonda--

RHONDA:  Maybe a little true.  But am I any better?  I countered my upbringing by becoming a frigid bitch.

LINDA:  You're not--I mean, frigid is--You're fine.

RHONDA:  We really should have done therapy.  All of us.

LINDA:  I did some therapy.

RHONDA:  How was it?

LINDA:  He quit.

RHONDA:  Who quit?

LINDA:  The therapist.  He quit on me.  One day he was just like--Uh, I can't do this anymore.

RHONDA:  Do what?

LINDA:  Me.  He meant me.  I was too--he just couldn't do it.

RHONDA:  Are you kidding?

LINDA:  Nope.  I scared away my therapist.  He broke up with me.

       (RHONDA laughs.)

It's really not funny.

RHONDA:  Ohhhh, I disagree.

      (She keeps laughing, and after a second, LINDA joins her.)

LINDA:  Look at us.  I didn't think we were going to end up like this.

RHONDA:  Four feet in a hole with Amanda's ashes in the back seat of my new car?

LINDA:  Laughing.

RHONDA:  Right.  Laughing.  Well...That's some kind of victory, isn't it?

LINDA:  Please.  For us?  That's a miracle.

     (She stands up, extends her hand, and helps her sister up.  They wait a second before picking up their shovels.  For now, it's just the two of them.)