Trials, troubles, and one drop of triumph
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004. Trials, troubles and one drop of triumph
RACHEL
Laying in bed, exhausted..
Morning Diane. Trying to talk myself into getting out of bed. I think the rat is back, or a new one has taken its pace downstairs. Someone called earlier, but I couldn’t be bothered to walk over to the dresser to grab my phone. Long sigh. Don’t think I’ve slept in this late since college, jeez, it’s almost eleven. Oh shoot, that was probably Coop. Crapcrapcrapcrap, we were talking about him coming over this weekend, since he had some work thing come up last weekend and the bonfire was a bust. Everything is still in the pit, ready to go, little soggy now but…..
[Calling Cooper back, frustrated about having to leave a voice mail. She is walking downstairs to make a cup of tea]
Just got your message, Coop! Marcus is over a bit early in the morning, isn’t he? No worries about this weekend, pass my condolences on to Grace for me and some belly scratches for the pups. Guess this weekend is a bust all around, first potential client had to put off the article series by a few months [can be heard stomping down stairs] yesterday, and now-- [full pause, the mailbox is back again, as if she hadn’t touched it at all.] It’s back, I gotta, I gotta go Coop, love you too, brah [hangs up].
Int. kitchen, morning. RACHEL is curled up in her living room window seat, staring at the mailbox, scared and pissed. Trying to not get sassy or rude
RACHEL
And it’s clear now that the universe hates me. While I’m here... [phone buttons as she calls the post office]
Hello, is this the Hartford Post office? Yeah? Great! Yes, this is RACHEL Bardin, I just moved in to 9781 West Mountain Meadow Road, quick question, maybe you can’t answer it but do you guys ever put up mailboxes?
Post office: No, that’s up to landlords.
[frustrated sigh] I figured they’d be the one to call, thanks. I suppose you couldn’t tell me anything about the blue one next to mine? Last person I talked to wasn’t sure. No number, just hand painted, blue with little white flowers. It… fell down… a little while ago, and I just… left it there… but I have found some letters of mine in it. Called a couple of weeks ago too but no one really got back to me.
Post office: That’s weird, we have no record of a second mailbox at that location.
Alright, thanks for you time, I’ll give the landlord a call. [Post office hangs up] I am the landlord. [Hang up]
Ext. front porch, morning. RACHEL is heading out to the mailbox, baseball bat in tow. She is carrying a college lecture recorder.
Alright Diane, just you and me again! Just in case something happens, I want it to be known that today as of 11:32 am The Mailbox is back. I’m going out to investigate with my trusty bat-- thank you mom, and Diane here… for posterity? I guess? Deep, meaningful companionship here in the southwest of nowhere?
If I die and you’re listening to this I love you, and mom and Cooper and Jessica and little Liam and I suppose even Andy. Please give them hugs for me.
[Pause, she is investigating at a distance]
It doesn’t look like it’s been tampered with, at all. Even the chunk I knocked off last week when I was unscrewing it is gone, or I mean it looks like it never fell off to begin with. No chipped paint, it looks new as the day I moved in. Hold on, there is a small post it note on the front.
“Dear Resident R-128, please be aware tampering with mail delivery services is a critical offence. This is your first warning.” [long pause] No signature, it’s super old looking, yellowed lined paper I can’t believe it still has any sticky on the back. No signature or seal or anything, just the typed note, typewriter style, ya know?
[Opens the mailbox with the bat. There is a slight clatter as the wood catches. It opens, revealing three letters inside]
Wow, three? [To no one in particular] Thanks, I hate it! All at once it seems, this sucks. [sighs, slams the door shut] Setting boundaries. Alright. Alright alright alrighhhhhhht. Not tampering with it anymore, not even gonna touch it anymore.
I don’t care.
Oh crap, I’m going to be late, Diane! [footsteps on gravel] I made plans to visit Rosa again this afternoon for tea again, we’re going to compare muffin recipes. Well, maybe. She has pretty severe memory problems, and I worry that she can’t always tell the difference between her dreams and reality- when I asked about anything weird going on around her she started going on about this blue person who shows up in her kitchen late at night sometimes and then vanishes again. [Pushes a door open] But she’s funny, and lonely I think. She likes to tell stories about growing up in San Francisco in the 60s.
Iiiiiii, huh? Where’d my wallet go? [Shuffling around, recorder gets turned off]
Later, sitting at the table, working on some notes.
Hello, hello, just making some verbal notes since I keep managing to misplace my sketchbooks. Rosa gave me a bunch of ideas for the back garden space while I was over there. Also offered me some part-time work later in the spring working on her flower beds if I was interested. [Pause] I think I’ll be interested. Despite that one pushback, I did just hear from that lifestyle blog and have at least one article lined up with them, and am waiting to hear back from a couple of magazines I pitched ideas to.
Anyways, Rosa loved the idea of planting a fig tree for Dad. But was adamant about planting it away from the house [eraser and pencil scribbling sounds] as apparently if they don’t get pruned properly every few years they turn into quite the “eldritch terror.”
And, well, I do not know how to prune anything.
Luckily, that means I can put it closer to the fire pit, it might actually get more sun there too… I only have about 30 feet to the tree line. And then if I shuffle some vegetable growing beds closer to the house, I can still have space for some other cut flowers and more sprawling squash and things in the far corner.
That also gives me more time to lay down some sandwich composting stuff around too to make the beds.
Sudden vibrating, as she receives a string of texts
Well, that’s never a good sign. Let’s see… [long pause] Oh, come on. [loud thunk as she plants her head on the table] Suppose I should thank him for the warning. [clicking as she texts Cooper back, long, drawn out sigh] No, no, Margot talked me through this, I have to talk about how I feel.
Apparently Cooper ran into Kelly earlier in town, and she seemed very concerned when she heard about my big move. He asked her not to reach out but we all know how stubborn she is.
I haven’t talked to her since she cut ties, and I don’t know anyone else from our friend group who is still talking to her either...but it hurts. It still really hurts. [starts to tear up] I mean, to go from starting to float the idea of marriage around, only to be told not two months later “Hey, I’ve met someone and am moving out this weekend” like… who even does that? [little pieces of paper being torn]
Oh, wait, I needed that… Someone who is clearly not worth my time. Like, I want to talk to her. I love talking to her, she’s clever and witty and funny [starts sniffling] and if she actually calls me I won’t be able to not pick up.
I don’t like running from my problems, but I’m going to go for a walk and happen to forget my phone inside.
Recorder turns off.
Ughhhh, two calls from Kelly, about ten texts from her and other people about it, looks like Cooper told everyone in the group chat about it, and one voicemail from the mechanics, Brian got my car running- or, it started working again for them- and he even offered to pick me up on his way in one of these mornings.
That actually made my day, I’m not going to lie. I was getting worried I’d have to find a rental to get back to Olympia for Dad’s birthday. Can’t believe it’s been fifteen years already. Hopefully it stays working the next two weeks, I have some old stuff in storage at Mom’s I want to bring back, and I might spend a long weekend there.
But I’ve got time to figure all that out. I’ve got my new bucket of paint and some writing work lined up which is quite frankly, not a lot but I suppose it’s the little things that are the most important.
Margot should be pleased, this is getting easier, even if our video chats arent [little laugh, recorder turns off]
SABRINA
How the heck are ya my lovely listeners?? This is Sabrina in audio life if you’re listening and SABRINA- ALL CAPS if you’re reading the script. A big gross ugly-crying THANK YOU for tuning in to the fourth episode of “Letters to Georgia,” this wee little bi-monthly podcast concerning the curious contents of a traitorous butt hole blue mailbox. If you are interested in updates follow us on Instagram @ star.room.studio, that’s @ star dot room dot studio-- our landing center for this series and some other lil creative bits and bobs of mine- your host and letter reader. You can also find mostly-accurate scripts and more excitingly, FREE downloadable coloring pages to accompany each episode on the website at www.sabrinalucille.com. If you’d like to support this podcast, I don’t have a Patreon but there is a little Ko-fi where you can send some caffeine my way at www.ko-fi.com/sabrinalucille, thats www dot ko - fi dot com forward slash sabrinalucille for that sweet sweet actually kinda bitter I like my coffee strong fuel. There will also be links in the description if you’re like me and have the audio memory of a goldfish. And again, thank you for tuning in, and I hope you join us for next-next weeks episode.
Toodles.
