Leaving Rhode Island: Montreal

            (KATE and DANIEL at a beach wedding.)

DANIEL:  I’m so glad they let me come back for the wedding.  He said—his words drenched in sarcasm.

KATE:  They’re our friends, Daniel.  And it was a nice wedding.

DANIEL:  Who gets married on the beach?  I mean, outside of movies, who gets married on the beach?

KATE:  Gay people.  Gay people get married on the beach.

DANIEL:  Are you and Stephanie getting married on the beach?

KATE:  No, because with my luck, there’d be a typhoon.

DANIEL:  You getting married?  There’d be a plague of locusts.

KATE:  I, uh, wasn’t sure you were coming.

DANIEL:  Until you found out I got the letter?

KATE:  No, even then.  I didn’t...

DANIEL:  Why wouldn’t I—

KATE:  You seemed really happy in Montreal.

DANIEL:  Well I was, but I’m not from Montreal.  I’m from here.  Being from somewhere is—You live where you’re from.  That’s just—natural.

KATE:  I’d love to live somewhere other than here.

DANIEL:  So move.

KATE:  To Montreal?

DANIEL:  To—wherever.

KATE:  Why would I leave?  My best friend just got back.

            (A moment.)

DANIEL:  Seems like you’re the only one left in Providence.  You and Steph.  Chris says he and George are moving to Indianapolis in August.

KATE:  Indianapolis.  Eesh.  I know Rhode Island’s not perfect, but at least we’re not Indianapolis.

DANIEL:  It’s just work.  You go where there’s work.

KATE:  How’s work in Montreal?

DANIEL:  I’m an online blogger, Kate.  I have no sense of the real world.

KATE:  Do your readers know that the Rhode Island Guy isn’t actually living in Rhode Island?

DANIEL:  I was wondering when you were going to bring this up.

KATE:  I figured I’d let you enjoy the open bar first.

DANIEL:  How many other people know?

KATE:  Just me.

DANIEL:  And how did you—

KATE:  I used to proofread your papers in college, Dan.  I know how you write.

            (A moment.)

DANIEL:  You must have…opinions.

KATE:  About the fact that you’ve been writing about a state you don’t live in for the past five years or the fact that we’re best friends and you’ve been telling me that all your money was coming from some political website that doesn’t even exist.

DANIEL:  How long have you—

KATE:  Three years.

DANIEL:  I’ve only been doing it for four years.

KATE:  And you’ve only been famous for three.

DANIEL:  I was born here, Kate.  I think I’m entitled to write about it.

KATE:  You feel entitled?  What a shock.

DANIEL:  It’s not like I’m lying.  I don’t actually say that I’m living in Rhode Island.

KATE:  That’s like publishing a cookbook and then saying ‘Oh, but I don’t bake or anything.  I got all these pictures from the Internet.’  Give me a break, Dan.

DANIEL:  Well, now everything’s going to be different.

KATE:  Because you’re moving back so now you’re actually going to know what you’re talking about?

DANIEL:  No, because I’m—publishing a book.

KATE:  A book?

DANIEL:  Well, more like—a compilation.  Of the things I’ve written.

KATE:  Wow.  A bullshit compendium.  I’m impressed.

DANIEL:  It’s already written.  Might as well—put it all together.  And it means I can stop writing the blog.  I got a pretty decent advance.

KATE:  For lying.

DANIEL:  Oh c’mon—

KATE:  For lying, Daniel!  You write all these—these criticisms about what’s wrong with Rhode Island and you’re not even here to see it.

DANIEL:  Like you don’t have opinions about other places.  Like I haven’t heard every Canadian joke ever for the past five years.  Like when you called Montreal Canada for Beginners?  Oh, and every Bieber joke.  All of them.

KATE:  All the Biebers.  Yes.

DANIEL:  So I have opinions about Rhode Island.  So what?

KATE:  My jokes aren’t books.  Nobody pays me for my jokes.

DANIEL:  So what?  You think I’m a sell-out?

KATE:  I think you’re being dishonest.

DANIEL:  So maybe writing about Rhode Island is a little—on the fence—morally, or whatever, but it’s fine now because…

            (A moment.)

KATE:  Because you’re moving back here?  Is that why?

DANIEL:  Kate—

KATE:  Is that why you’re coming back here?  So you can soothe your guilt?  Wow.

DANIEL:  That’s—

KATE:  Wow.  And here I thought it was because you actually missed me.

DANIEL:  I do.

KATE:  Or Chris and George.  Or your family.  Or just, you know, where you’re from.  But I guess I’m an idiot.  You spent the past few years doing nothing but bash this place, why would I think you’d want to come back and actually enjoy it?  See what’s good about it?  God I feel stupid.

DANIEL:  Nobody wants to read a blog all about how nice a place is.

KATE:  You’re right, Daniel.  Aside from, you know, travel writing, you’re absolutely right.

            (A moment.)

DANIEL:  You know what I find odd about weddings?  The chicken dance.  I mean, if that came on the radio, or, like, on shuffle, you’d be like—What the hell?  I mean, it’s not a good song, and it’s a stupid dance that everybody looks stupid doing and yet—when it comes on at a wedding, everybody gets all excited, and runs onto the dance floor, and trips all over themselves trying to look as stupid as possible.  It’s like—airplane peanuts.  In real life, it’s a gross little bag of peanuts.  But on an airplane—they’re gold.  It’s all about context.  A cheap snack, a dumb song—shed the right kind of light on it, and suddenly—it seems perfect.  Maybe Rhode Island’s like that.  Better living in it than looking at it, you know?

KATE:  Is that from something?

DANIEL:  Company.  Sophomore year of college, remember?  You made me go see it three times, because that girl you liked was in it.

KATE:  Inga.  She was from Sweden.  Geez, she was—

DANIEL:  Oh, I remember what she was.

KATE:  So once you’re back, then what?  No more writing?

DANIEL:  Or maybe writing about—why I love it here.

            (A moment.)

KATE:  You know, Steph reads your stuff.  I didn’t tell her it was you who writes it, but she does—she likes it.  Quotes it and everything.

DANIEL:  That’s nice.

KATE:  She’s leaving.

            (A beat.)

DANIEL:  What?

KATE:  I’m not saying it’s all you—or the pieces you wrote—but she wants to leave.  She says she can’t see herself being here for the long-term.

DANIEL:  So you’re—

KATE:  I’m staying.  I like it here.  My family’s here.  My best friend just moved back.

DANIEL:  But then what—

KATE:  I don’t know.  We’re—I don’t know.  I told her to think about it—how much she hates it here and how much she loves me, and I’d think about how much I love her and how I don’t think moving to Montana is going to fix whatever it is that’s going on with her—and hopefully, we’d…think of something.  A resolution, or something.

DANIEL:  She’ll choose you.

KATE:  I don’t know.  I…

            (A moment.)

DANIEL:  We should go back inside.

KATE:  Just give me another minute out here.  I love looking at the ocean.  It makes you feel rich even when you’re flat broke because you spent all your money on a nice dress so the gays would be proud of you.

            (They laugh a little.)

I’d miss this if I wasn’t here.

DANIEL:  Yeah.  Yeah, you would.

            (They look at the ocean.)