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home is a place. a people. a memory. a home with open doors to those who need them, 1471 Thomas Sloane Avenue, better known as Laurie's House, is, has been, will be a place of becoming. but it is too late. 1471 Thomas Sloane Avenue, Laurie's House, is gone.
// Laurie's House is a TTRPG Actual Play, produced by tendervicious studios. Using The Home We Remember as its system, Laurie's House tells a tale of memory, identity, and community.
Hamnah: Welcome and thank you for listening to Laurie’s House! Laurie’s House is a Home We Remember Actual Play produced by tendervicious studios, a multimedia production studio that creates experimental shows with intent. We aim to challenge and redefine what is possible across mediums. Laurie’s House features Cai Kagawa as the Architect; Gwendolyn Kelly, Hamnah Shahid, and Amir or Nada Alami as the players; Sea Thomas as the dramaturg; Navaar Seik-Jackson as the podcast editor; and Lexi McQueen as the theme composer.
Hamnah: This episode of Laurie’s House would not be possible without our sponsors, Frivolous Bear Studios and Blackbird Revolt.
Frivolous Bear Studios is a new gaming studio focusing on tabletop roleplaying games that tell untold stories and uplift marginalized voices. The studio is currently accepting pitches for tabletop roleplaying games and other gaming experiences, as well as interest from artists, editors, and designers. Go to FrivolousBearStudios.com to submit your pitch or to express interest for creative work!
Blackbird Revolt is an abolitionist design studio creating designs that shift culture and build power. Through design, they aim to inspire people to engage in activism and movement work. Check out BlackbirdRevolt.com to hire them for graphic design and video production, and to buy their art!
Thank you so much to Frivolous Bear Studios and Blackbird Revolt for supporting our show. We hope you’ll join us in giving love back to our sponsors, so we can all continue to make weird, experimental art. Without further ado, let’s walk together into Laurie’s House.
Hamnah: Content warnings for this episode of Laurie’s House include descriptions of food, dysphoria, fire and burning, complex and complicated relationships, discussions of religion, discussions of ableism, snakes, birds, flirting, and romance. Please take care of yourself while listening and thank you for Going There with us.
Episode 7: WHAT WE GIVE AWAY.
Cai: Take a step forward. Walk into a different room. A different building. A different part of town. Look around you. Where are you? When are you?
Memories are not perfect snapshots of places, people, emotions, experiences. They are paintings, recreated every time we step foot into the past. The act of remembering is a rewriting of our personal histories coloured by the moment we’re in, by who we are right now.
Memories are held in places. In rooms. In buildings. In parts of town important to us. Time is a place you find. When you find it, you remember. You rewrite. You erase. You relive.
What story will you tell about yourself? And how many times will you tell it?
Cai: The diner. A place overflowing with a dragon. A place being stalked by a snow leopard. A place with extremely uncomfortable vinyl seats. A place where the menus are always a little sticky, the air always smells like burnt coffee beans, and the music sounds like it's being played via tin can on a string. Has it always felt this way? Or has the shine just worn off? Or is it just today? Yesterday was supposed to be a beautiful spring wedding. Today… Well… The bussed plates sit awkwardly at the end of the counter from people that have long gone. A plate sticky from pancakes and syrup. A neatly empty plate from jam on toast with a simple bowl of grits. A plate smeared with the telltale signs of hot sauce on an omelet. There's touches of other people having been here, but at the moment, it's just you three. Deen, Dione, and… Eira…?
Cai: Okay, then. I guess, Dione, what is your fondest memory on a plate here?
Gwen: Powdered sugar. On something that's not on the menu of this diner. There was a time where the three of them had spent actually all day looking for a neighbor's dog, only for it to turn up on the doorstep at the end of the day. This was the only place open, and of course, Dione hadn't eaten all day. None of them had. But instead of being normal about it, Dione asked the cook to make her an abomination. A monstrous Monte Cristo, a deep fried sandwich with maple apples, hash browns, eggs, fried chicken, topped with powdered sugar. And she spent the rest of the evening trying to explain to Eira and Deen that this could be fine dining! Even though she knew that hunger was the best spice included in the sandwich.
Cai: And Deen, what is your— No. Mint? Is it the mint? Maybe it's the carabiner. Something feels off. What's not sitting right, Deen? Is it your skin sitting over muscles, over bones, or is it something else?
Amir/Nada: It's both. Dione seems lighter. She seems present, even. It feels different. And Eira seems the same if they're even letting Deen read them right now. And something in Deen is sinking. It burns every time. And Deen commits it to memory until something compels them to leave the diner and they can remember things to forget the pain a little bit. Deen has been watching y'all describe your in-character thoughts and because they can't read people, they feel like they are failing at a game that everyone knows how to play. They can't read minds and it would be so much easier for everyone if they could. So, Deen feels a violent lack of anything good. In fact, they feel brutal. They feel like they're losing.
Cai: …Anyways, you also have a plate.
Amir/Nada: Mm-hmm. And wouldn't you know it? There is also, surrounding all of this, the remembrance of that kid whose dog we found. Tearing down missing dog posters around the street and laughing, as their tiny, too-small dog just chases after them in what we can only know as glee, as love, and… Deen wasn't gonna argue the fine points of fine dining. Right now, she— they don't have a plate of their own. They're trying to dig into Dione’s because… she's right about a lot of things when it comes to food.
Cai: So, someone else's plate. You want someone else's plate.
Amir/Nada: Uh-huh.
Cai: So, your fondest memory is Dione's memory.
Amir/Nada: What was the question?
Cai: Food on a plate, Deen.
Amir/Nada: Mmm. That's… not what they're focused on. And if people have been looking, they have been cutting up their eggs, the same food—their same food—into smaller pieces until it looks like they've eaten. They've not been eating. They've let the tea cool down. They've watched everyone fill themselves, and they're just sitting on the seat. They're not looking at the table. They're not looking at the food.
Cai: You know what, Deen? Draw a card. Major Arcana.
Amir/Nada: All right, but you know what card it is. It's the Emperor.
Cai: Deen: “What shape does your identity take on as you draw a new boundary for yourself?” Or: “What shape do you force your identity to fit into as someone else imposes a new expectation on you?”
Amir/Nada: I think if there is silence in this diner, Deen will let it continue. They are used to it, after all, but I know that that's not what's going to propel them. (Sigh.) They… They don't draw boundaries. I think normally it's Eira that says anything to get us, like, out of here. And it's very clear that the diner isn't for staying. It is for a sit-down and then leaving. And Deen doesn't want to be here.
Cai: Where does Deen want to be?
Amir/Nada: The house has burned down… three times? Cai, was it three times?
Cai: The house is standing.
Amir/Nada: So, I don't feel anything. And I remember this, but it is an idyllic— It is a perfect day and somehow, it is so irrational, I think, what comes out. This is the same person that cradles house flies out of the house for fear of mourning for their entire lifespan. And now… it is like… claws come out, and grab the vinyl for the first time. And it is like— It is— It is a sound like unzipping. It is a sound like loving a stuffed animal a little too hard. They… Their hair has always grown a little fast. It's covering their eyes, but their eyes are so sharp right now. It's only a matter of time until someone who's not Deen notices.
Cai: Well, someone has noticed.
Amir/Nada: Mmm?
Cai: The house has always been there. The house remembers. There's photographs. There's footsteps, worn handles. Places only Deen goes that the house remembers.
Amir/Nada: (Sigh.) Deen is doubting their memory. I think there's only so many times that this cycle of events stays the same until the inconsistencies that come with age or forgetting. They are up in center. And I think out of nowhere, Deen turns to Eira. And they say, “Do you remember what I said last time we were in the diner?”
Hamnah: “You said a lot of things.”
Amir/Nada: You're right. They retreat immediately into their hair, into the seat, uh, into shrinking. It's not good for them. It's not good for them. And they say, “I said— I… said that this better not hurt as much the next time. Do you remember what you said after?”
Hamnah: “I told you that it wouldn't.”
Amir/Nada: And there is an accusation there. There is, because “Eira, how do you feel? In your body.”
Hamnah: Eira, sitting in this vinyl, their leg shaking, knee bouncing up and down, looks at you, and there's a crack in the smile for a second. There's a swallowing in their throat, like there's something lodged there that they're trying to get out.
Hamnah: “I feel fine.”
Amir/Nada: And you don't need to read minds. You know that was the wrong answer because they take it like a physical hit and they raise— they raise a hand as if to pinch a brow that is creasing on itself too much, as if the bridge of their nose can't contain, like, the amount of tension. They're, like, coiling as if they're a spring ready to come out of a box of... to reveal what? Like, a confession? They don't feel good. Deen doesn't feel good right now. And they say it as such. They say it right now to you, to you, to you. “This shit fucking sucks. And it hurts. And… that's not a reason to stop.”
Hamnah: “That's what we're trying to fix. That's what we're trying to change. I get that it hurts and it sucks. But why—?”
Amir/Nada: “Why promise me that—okay. Why promise me that something would change then as if you knew what was going to happen?”
Hamnah: “Because it will. Because if we do this enough times, it will.”
Cai: Deen, you're fighting the question.
Amir/Nada: Cai, what is the question?
Cai: “What shape does your identity take as you draw a new boundary for yourself” or “what shape do you force your identity to fit into as someone else imposes a new expectation on you?”
Amir/Nada: “Eira, please shut up.” And—
Hamnah: “You asked me a question! Why ask if you don't want the answer?”
Amir/Nada: That is like the meanest thing Deen's ever said to you.
Hamnah: “What's gotten into you, Deen?”
Amir/Nada: (Sigh.) “So much. I don't think this is— I don't think this is working. Eira, I think if there are rules to this game, we don't know them. And I think we need to admit that before we keep trying the same thing. Clearly, whatever is changing, isn't saving the hou—” Cai, I watched the house burn down. Three times.
Cai: The house is still standing.
Amir/Nada: But we can't just keep pushing. We can't…
Cai: The house is also burnt down.
Hamnah: “And why is it just me that you think isn't trying hard enough? What about Dione?”
Amir/Nada: “When did I say that you weren't trying hard enough?!”
Hamnah: “You just said that we can't keep doing the same thing because nothing's changing! I'm trying! Why do you think I'm going back over and over and over again. Do you not—?”
Amir/Nada: “We're going back?”
Gwen: “We have to go back. It's not the same thing every time. It's different.”
Amir/Nada: “What happened to you the last time, Dione?”
Gwen: “I rode the bus for the first time.”
Amir/Nada: Deen's waiting.
Gwen: “I—I rode the bus with myself for the first time.”
Amir/Nada: “You seem… like you're here with yourself.”
Gwen: “Yes, and— Yes, I am here and I— Yes, it hurts. It hurts. And we shouldn't be making promises. We don't know how this works. We don't know what to do. But wha— Why are we… Why are we going back and forth like this?”
Hamnah: “So, what do you want to do? Just sit here and let the house burn? Let Laurie die?”
Gwen: “I never said— I never said to sit here and Laurie is gone, OK?”
Hamnah: “Not if we do something.”
Gwen: “I don't… When I say Laurie is gone, I don't mean that she isn't here... I never met Laurie and she's still here with me all the time.”
Cai: Every time Dione says the name, you hear a knocking, Deen.
Amir/Nada: And Deen doesn't want to be here, and I'm narrating their thoughts and I can tell you. No one needed to hear me say it to know that Deen doesn't want to be here right now. But they're not going to say what it is they want right now.
Hamnah: “If you're going to point fingers, then you might as well just come out and say the whole thought, the whole feeling. Why hold back?”
Amir/Nada: And… the thoughts—?
Hamnah: “No, come on.” And Eira gets up and pulls Deen up with them, both of them being quite tall. I think there is this… not quite menacing, but confrontational energy between the two of them, as they stand there face to face.
Amir/Nada: If you could see their hackles, you would know that they were up.
Hamnah: “Don't hold back.”
Amir/Nada: Yeah, I think Deen finds it harder to open their mouth. And so, the thoughts are reverberating in their head louder in a narration that lets this time ticker go by that is louder. You hear it, you hear it, you hear it. I am speaking for them. The lion has watched their pride and joy burn down too many times, and it shows in how rigid they are. They… take— They— They don't— They never refuse you. And that is, I think, the part that makes me think they're not much of a beast at all. They're not much of anyone with a backbone, but they can't speak. Or I'm pushing them to speak. They speak.
Amir/Nada: “Don't you feel pain? Eira, don't you, like, let it approach?”
Hamnah: “We all feel pain. I told you the last time that we spoke. I told you when we were with Aspen. I get close enough to touch and then I walk away.”
Amir/Nada: “So, have I been the only one watching the house burn down? Have you two been looking away?”
Gwen: “We couldn't— I won't speak for you, Eira. You can speak for yourself.” And Dione stands up. “I can't do anything. I couldn't do anything the way that I was. You know what would happen if I went back to the house, Deen? I would be in the kitchen. And the kitchen would burn. That's it. That's all that would happen.”
Amir/Nada: Deen feels too big in their body, even though I put them there. Even though they're in the center of an angle of conversation. They shrink at that, still letting themself be held by Eira and placating. Again, they start placating. “I'm not— I'm not accusing either of you. I love both of you. Just… let me be upset, which, God…” Even now, placating, not a proper beast at all, least of all, a proud one. They hate themself in this moment. My voice is reverberating in their head so loud, it's as if everyone can hear. And they do. They're not even besides themself right now. They're below themself. They— Their hands, suddenly they're not in your grasp. They can't speak. They're trying to begin the components of… ASL? As if we're in America. As if we're anywhere at all besides where the narrative deems it useful. Maybe you as players, maybe you as characters wish that you learned it, even if there was a laundry list of more important things about them that were more important. There are so many small moving parts about this not-lion. They can't even babble in Sign. That is how nonverbal they are and I wanted them to dish it and take it.
Sea: Deen, open the door. The house wants to talk to you.
Amir/Nada: (Sigh.) Deen doesn't want to be in this diner and they cannot speak a word. But everyone knows it to be true because I said so. You can call me by name. You know my names. I narrate every thought Deen has and every thought they will have.
Cai: Then open the door. I asked you a question.
Amir/Nada: Deen doesn't want to go back to the diner and they open… as if that invitation needed to be verbalized again. Their hand’s on the knob.
Cai: The basement at Laurie's House is dim. The wooden steps creak, much like other things creak inside of the depths of Deen, but we're not talking about Deen. It's supposed to be a somewhat short-ceilinged basement, moderately unfinished. Good for storage, where the electrical, the water, some other supplies all just sit. The only other person who ever really touches them is Deen. They're not down here right now. The supplies, the water, the electrical, the source of the problem is not down here right now. At the bottom of creaky wooden stairs, taller than a cathedral, as wide as the eye can see, a beautiful vaulted ceiling. Gothic buttresses, arched windows, and dirt on the outside. What do you want?
Amir/Nada: I don't want to leave.
Cai: The diner?
Amir/Nada: Cai, where am I right now?
Cai: Oh, we're in the basement of Laurie's House that's still there, not burnt down.
Amir/Nada: Mmm. I don't want Deen to suffer. It's not that I wanted to pepper their backstory with misery, but if there was a healthy model for love, they have maybe only just seen it, and just as quickly, they've seen it stand in front of a towering fire, threatening to break everything.
Cai: So, Deen's only measure of love is a wooden structure built by hand sometime around the 1920s?
Amir/Nada: (Sigh.) I think it's the only one that Deen would be proud of in this moment. They—
Cai: So, we're going to not look at the hands that have helped them up, the people who cook for them, that uh, the people who watch out for them when they are sleeping, the doors that keep them in, the outside out? All of that, that's not a model of love. It's the door. The door is the model of love.
Amir/Nada: Is the house an object?
Cai: The house is a memory.
Amir/Nada: So, it's not a thing. It's not a collection of people. It's not even like an animal that we live in.
Cai: If it’s— If we're being generous, it's a series of rooms that might be places, but if there's no one in there and nothing to see them, then it's just a wooden structure with plaster walls that maybe isn't completely up to code.
Amir/Nada: A series of small boxes. Deen wants to talk to the house.
Cai: Then Deen needs to stop sliding into the vinyl seats and use their words.
Amir/Nada: So, I don't know where I am, but is Deen in the basement?
Cai: We're in the basement. I think we left Deen at the diner.
Amir/Nada: I need to pick them up. And do you let me?
Cai: Eh. Is Deen up for what comes next even if the house burns down?
Amir/Nada: They need an internal monologue either way and… I think they're not ready to leave the house again, but they are ready for everything else.
Cai: So, it's not the mint or the carabiner? It's the house?
Amir/Nada: The house isn't an object. It's not a time of day. It's not a sound. Are you an animal?
Cai: Some days, but not in this case. I'm a house. I am an architect. I am the hands that built it. I am the person that paved every road in this town. And, right now, I am the vaulted ceiling in a beautiful chapel deep in the dirt that's actually only about six feet beneath Laurie's House.
Amir/Nada: Deen has not stepped foot in a religious setting of any kind in over a decade. This feels new, but it feels old.
Cai: It is only divine if you say it is. Otherwise it's just a place, a box where people put things.
Amir/Nada: A series of boxes.
Cai: A series of boxes.
Amir/Nada: But Cai, I think you already know who I would be looking up to if we can establish the player, the character, is a Muslim right now. And maybe the exact makeup of this place, this… chapel, basement, palace, it might be up to interpretation, but… They do look up to a higher power, and I think that's important right now to say in plain words. And whether it comes out in the shape of a house, of a voice, of a name that also populates the description of each episode, ushering us in and out… Deen is so frustrated because wouldn't it be so easy if you just had all the answers and bestowed them to us like this? You decide the length of the game.
Cai: That isn't how people work. We are each stories, and if someone told us the ending, we would close the book.
Amir/Nada: This is a book with rules in it, and if there are rules to this game, Deen doesn't know them. It is a type of literature that has always been hard for them. They're on the floor.
Cai: In the diner?
Amir/Nada: Yes. They're actually in the diner. That vinyl? That thing that has sucked their center of gravity so far out of their body, I think made it happen with no magic involved, no surreal qualities at all. And they fall on their bad hip.
Cai: There's gum on the bottom of the table, Deen.
Amir/Nada: Deen sees it. They're looking up and they don't see other pairs of shoes or legs. They're in the basement. They're looking up.
Cai: And the ceiling of a mosque is very different. No buttresses, no grand arched windows that are in the gothic style. Geometric wood carvings. Beautiful tile floor. Soft rugs. Deen, are you ready? Will you come with me?
Amir/Nada: It is an expression of faith— of faith doubted if I ask you where we're going. I want to have faith in you. What's Deen's happy ending, you know? Like, to apply for disability and wait for years to get it and never marry and beg for existence, even if they can keep a job? I think Deen has the thoughts, but will you let me say this for them?
Cai: I will not be as cruel as that.
Amir/Nada: I think character development is supposed to be about what someone can do for themself. And I'm not sure why it matters if the world is going to chew them up and spit them out. I know Deen doesn't deserve that, and that hurts because I know I don't deserve that either. I don't think Deen needs to fix themself. The world isn't kind, but Deen is kind. And so, they sit on this anxiety about the future. Do they win the game by knowing this?
Cai: No. There's no winning. Unfortunately for Deen, there's less winning. If I'm honest, you love Deen more than most others.
Amir/Nada: I have had to. I think I have had to take care of them because people that know me know what percentage of myself I put into the character. And I will never say the exact number, but I think for them. I speak for them. So, I feel like I can advocate for them in this moment. You can use whatever name for me you like. And they love the house. And I love the house.
Cai: And it will burn down again. It doesn't mean I don't love Deen or you or anyone else. That isn't what this game is about. It is about love.
Amir/Nada: Love doesn't save it.
Cai: Other people do love Deen. And the only answer is forward, and backwards, and on every side of them.
Amir/Nada: (Sigh.) But it's also selfish because they lived in the house. So… They're at the mercy of other people. And I know I am the best caretaker for Deen.
Cai: Then lift them up right now. Tell them that you love them. I love you, Deen. And… see what comes next.
Amir/Nada: Going forward, I think it is important to say that it is not that Deen needs rest. Deen does just need the people to stay in their life. They need to be there for others because it's selfish and because it's self-preserving and because they love people. And all of those things are true. Because if you fall alone with no life alert, I don't know where that takes you. Where that— What kind of ending to a story would someone else see and click their teeth at? The shame of it all.
Amir/Nada: So, you're going to ask me to watch it burn again?
Cai: I'm going to ask you to try. That's all I can do. I can't change it. It isn't mine to change.
Amir/Nada: “The first time it burned, it's as if my heart stopped. You know, I couldn't like—” Deen is speaking for me. “I couldn't feel anything anymore. When I was in pain, I knew that something was wrong and I could have had a worse accident and no one would have come because I'm in the basement alone. And I— I just don't have a lot of choices in life right now anyway, so—”
Cai: Deen, I missed you… And I have a question for you if you'll answer it for me.
Amir/Nada: I think Deen has talked himself around it long enough. Don't you want to play the game? No, no. Entertain the idea even? No. They think they have an answer, but not having the script, I think, scares them so much, but they will listen to your question.
Cai: “What shape does your identity take as you draw a new boundary for yourself?” Or “what shape do you force your identity to fit into as someone else imposes a new expectation on you?”
Amir/Nada: Deen likes being quiet. There's a lot of advantages. And it isn't necessarily more real for them to be loud and incorrect. Because being loud feels really scary when they have grown up quiet, quiet, quiet, quiet. They were too quiet as a kid. And that is inevitably going to mean they're going to be bad at this, but they needed the clarity of catastrophe, even if they didn't want the actual catastrophe to get there.
Cai: Deen, what has changed on your character sheet?
Amir/Nada: Mmm. No, no. Mmm. See, Deen doesn't want to go back to the diner. Deen doesn't want to answer that question. They are still thinking about: Is the house an object? Is the house an animal? It's not even… like a sensation, a thing, a time of day, like… Deen has been on their knees because they're praying. I think, Cai, you know who they're praying to.
Amir/Nada: “Please, please, don't make me go back. Just let me be the house.”
Cai: I won't let you do that, Deen, because I love you and I know what happens to the house.
Amir/Nada: “You don't love me enough to save you? That's not the point. You don't love me enough to hold you? Is that something that you let people do?”
Cai: Love is not flora or fauna, object, song, smell, time. It isn't one thing, Deen.
Amir/Nada: They want the house to populate a box of a series of small boxes. And if the house doesn't fit, they want to draw the house around like it's just a set of windows. And the house has seen what the burning does to them. I think they have not moved from this position of praying. They will swear a fealty to you.
Cai: What about the sound of praying? Is that who you are now, Deen?
Amir/Nada: I think— No, the animal's wrong. The animal lashes out, actually, at the suggestion and… They— They don't have claws. They just have these blunted nails from work that they dig into their knees. The closest thing would be an animal.
Cai: The house is an animal?
Amir/Nada: If you say it to be so, then it is.
Cai: The house is a smell. The smell of home. It isn't just bleach and menthol. It's cooking. Wood polish.
Amir/Nada: The animal lashes out again, but it is not Deen's choice. The not-lion lashes out. It is a dog. A dog that will follow its way home.
Cai: And Deen, what inside the house changes?
Amir/Nada: That cane is a walker. Very simply… They don't know how to use a cane. They don't know how to get another leg, so to speak. They just need to control when and where they can go places. And there is something very freeing about that, even if things are progressively getting worse… The walker is great.
Cai: Dione, Deen's on the floor. Again.
Gwen: Not for much longer. As Dione, moving awkwardly in armour, scoops Deen up and tries to meet their gaze through a veil, the heat of a body taking up so much space in the diner, radiating. “Deen. Hey. You with me?”
Amir/Nada: And Deen is ashamed and they are working their mouth open, but they are looking at you. They see the veil as familiar, actually.
Gwen: “Hey, take your time. What do you need?”
Amir/Nada: They are working their jaw again, and the heat that is emanating from them is a bit of shame for, I think, daring to be loud, but… They say something strange for— when they— when they come to. It takes a moment, a beat. “I need to not be here. I don't… I don't like it here. Remembering hurts almost as much as the house burning.” And then they pat their body. It looks normal to you. It is just that normal is bad.
Gwen: Dione looks at Deen and you watch as, in response to that question, a snake travels across the armour, the dress, the scales and grows wings and talons and the legs elongate and then shorten, as the face begins to flatten. “I— Deen, we can't run. Memories will always be there.”
Amir/Nada: Deen nods into the armour, the silk, the toughness of your skin, the strength of your grip. It is, I think, unfamiliar. Have you ever held Deen before?
Gwen: Dione’s tried.
Amir/Nada: We can think about how long ago that was, but… it still somehow feels like the first time, doesn't it?
Gwen: It's not the first time. And then the secretary bird becomes a snake again. And it is.
Amir/Nada: It is. “Dione, I'm sorry. Um… Do you want me here?”
Gwen: “I can't make you do anything, Deen. Nor would I… want to try to make you do anything. The thing is, is that I… want you to want me here, but if you don't want to be here…”
Amir/Nada: “I want us to not be here.”
Gwen: “Deen, I'm going to walk you out this door, but after I do… we won't be here.”
Amir/Nada: They do not understand what you're saying.
Gwen: “I don't know where you'll be, Deen, but I won't be there.”
Amir/Nada: “So, do you want to stay?”
Gwen: “I want to want to stay.”
Amir/Nada: They go back to placating. “Sorry, I... I haven't had to think about that in a while. You know why. So... I get it.” And then they look embarrassed. “Dione, I just—I just need you to help me get up.”
Gwen: “I shouldn't have said anything.” And Dione does. Dione helps you up to your feet, to whatever stance is most comfortable for you to be at, whatever height is your height.
Amir/Nada: “So, are you going to close the door on me? Would that be easier?” They are gripping the shirt—the bottom of your shirt—like they're pulling you.
Gwen: And it's ironic because it's kind of all Dione wanted… Before. “It's not my door to close, Deen. I'm not the house.”
Amir/Nada: They hang their head at that. And I think they just limp their way to the entrance, like the stiffness of their hip is very predictable. It is nothing like Eira's footfalls. It is a dominant leg, a weak leg, stuttering, like a pulse. And they cannot help but look back. They don't want to be the first one to let you go. You said you would take them to the door.
Gwen: She does.
Cai: Dione, where are you going?
Gwen: Dione, walking through the threshold of that door, is no longer in town.
Cai: Dione, will you pull a card for me? Thinking cups or wands.
Gwen: I think this is cups. That is the Eight of Cups.
Cai: Dione, “Summer gleams and the chrysalis beckons. Are you willing to digest yourself into something unfamiliar?”
Gwen: Dione… reaches back through the threshold and waits for Eira to take her hand.
Hamnah: Eira will reach out and hold on to Dione's hand, and pull Dione into their truck, into the passenger seat.
Gwen: And Dione sits. She's been here quite a few times now. And there is a bubbling anticipation. And it feels good, but it also feels scary. Scary in the way that, as Dione—who is maybe surprisingly prepared for a trek through the woods—A strawberry mint smoothie that she's finishing off. Two water bottles. A full backpack, as she continues to scout for the best location for a photo shoot. There's still something behind every tree, every tall towering tree. There's something dark behind it, but Eira's here. She isn't alone.
Cai: The trees at the park glisten in early morning light, as you wind through. It is not too early, but it is still decidedly morning and the birds are singing. It's a beautiful day.
Gwen: “So… This is more your territory out here, huh?”
Hamnah: “I don't know if I would call it that per se. I'm not, like, forest firefighter. It’s a— Actually a distinct job. Uh, not the same, but I guess more than yours.”
Gwen: “Yeah, uh… In the most literal sense, I don't get out of town much.”
Hamnah: “Well, that's very fair. I mean, you're busy. But, uh…” And Eira's following behind you, like one step behind you, letting you lead. And they have, like, a backpack and all of your gear, um, Eira has, like, offered to carry for you, so that you can focus on just finding the best light, the best vantage point, whatever it is that you are looking for in this park. Eira wants to give you the chance to do so and so, they are kind of, like, um, trudging along behind you, looking around, um, as we move through the space.
Gwen: Dione, with her mother's camera in hand, is taking her time. She is stopping to snap a picture of a blue jay. She is stopping to find the perfect angle to catch the dew glistening off of a mushroom cap. And after squatting down to take a picture, she kind of turns on her heel and starts walking backwards, facing Eira. “Why did we take so long to start spending time together, do you think?”
Hamnah: Eira looks a little taken aback at the question, for its directness. Not something that they're used to coming from Dione. And shuffling the tripod from one arm to the other to buy themself a little bit of time to recenter, Eira looks down at you with their grey eyes, kind of curious. “I'm not really sure. I think for all the time that we have spent in the house together, we've also spent quite a lot of time in other places. Kind of running around, the both of us. Playing with our different fires.”
Gwen: “That's a good way to put it. But of all of those winding paths that we have separately, we cross so many times. It just seems strange that it's only happened now, don't you think?”
Hamnah: “I guess so. Truthfully, I hadn't really thought very much about it. You were always there, and it's not like I didn't see you, Dione. I always see you.”
Gwen: And Dione’s golden eyes sort of flicker for a moment. “What do you see?”
Hamnah: And at that question, Eira makes a big show of stopping in their tracks, setting the tripod down, setting down any other equipment that they are carrying. They leave the backpack on, that has all of their other stuff in it. And they get closer to Dione, hold her by the shoulders, and look her up and down as if they were examining her for the first time. And then, having scanned Dione from head to toe, back up to her head, Eira looks into those beautiful, bright, golden eyes. “I see… a chef superficially. But beyond that, I see somebody who takes care of everyone else. I see somebody who is always moving, always going. It's a little familiar. I see someone who… has changed recently. I've noticed that you have a little bit more of a bite than you used to.” And Eira laughs playfully at that. There is nothing bad or negative or judgmental in that statement. More than anything, Eira seems amused by it all. “Seems like you're on the precipice of something.”
Gwen: Dione scoffs a little bit, decides for once she's not going to comment on how much you smell like smoke. And I think she just takes her index finger and pokes it into Eira's chest. “And if you've noticed all that, why don't you let me take care of you?”
Hamnah: Eira doesn't move when the finger makes contact with their chest. They don't pull back. They don't push forward. They just let the contact happen. And they take one of their hands off of Dione's shoulder and put it just gently underneath her chin, tipping it up to look at them since they are so much taller than her. And again, there's this stutter like there's something stuck in Eira's throat that they want to say. And the words that come out instead are, “I—I don't need taking care of.”
Gwen: “Okay. What about me? Do you think I need to be taken care of?”
Hamnah: “Well, you spend so much time taking care of everyone else.”
Gwen: “Okay, now who are we talking about right now?”
Hamnah: Eira chuckles a little. “What are you trying to say, chef?”
Gwen: “I'm trying to say that I know, perhaps to my detriment, that I'm always running.” And there is just a small moment of hesitation, like there is a desire to retract. There is a desire to change into the person that will make the most favourable outcome. The snake begins to coil around Dione’s midsection, and it continues to do so, and it tries. It tries, the scales expanding, trying to form feathers, and it doesn't work. And then it tries to grow legs and a mane, and it doesn't work. Hooves even. It doesn't work. “So, if I'm running all the time and I can't catch up to you, why are you running?”
Hamnah: Eira pauses in their tracks. And in the small distance between Dione and Eira, they can feel Dione's breath hitting their face. They can… hear it. They can see Dione's chest rising and falling with that breath and they look down at Dione. And Eira…
Hamnah: “I have to go.”
Gwen: “What?”
Hamnah: “I have—I have to go. Um… You're gonna be okay. Uh, here.” And, uh, Eira quickly takes off the backpack that is on their back, and they leave it on the ground, uh, just like plop down really hurriedly next to all of the other gear that was there. “You're gonna meet Theo and Pascal later, right? So I—I—I gotta…” And Eira turns around and runs.
Gwen: “Wait!” And the mamba strikes and she grabs your wrist.
Hamnah: And with a snap of a tail, white and spotted, the mamba is pushed back and Eira runs off into the woods, into the treeline, and you quickly lose sight of them.
Gwen: And she runs. And she runs, but she knows she can't catch up.
Cai: Dione, the sun shifts high into the sky, clear noon, casting silhouettes of leaves on the ground. That rich, warm smell of forest.
Cai: “Dione?”
Gwen: (Laughing.) “Yea— I'm over here!”
Cai: Lumbering through the trees, Pascal just taking his time, step by step, walking a bit like Theo, as he makes his way through the forest. They were supposed to both be here, um, but Theo, well, he's not to be seen at the moment, but Pascal doesn't seem worried. Uh, he does, however, have his glasses off. He's got his handkerchief out. He is dabbing his whole head. “Oh, there you are.”
Gwen: Dione stands in a clearing, the perfect clearing. And the way that the trees frame the light, we're going to have maybe a couple of hours, maybe three hours. We're just here to test things out.
Cai: “Okay. Um, first concern. I don't know that Theo can walk all the way up here.”
Gwen: “I think we can figure something out.”
Cai: “All right. We're gonna have to convince him of that, but okay.”
Gwen: “Here. I just want to see if this is the right spot. Of course, we can move if it's not.”
Cai: “Okay, just give me a minute.” And he fans himself with the handkerchief in hand. (Sigh.) “All right. All right. All right.” And he straightens himself up, his hunched-over form catching his breath seems to write all the way upwards and he must grow 10 feet tall, as he stands up all of the way. A beautiful black bear standing in the sun, as he strides into this clearing.
Gwen: Dione watches as Pascal walks into the clearing. And she does what she always does with Pascal, which is put something between her and him. And she holds up the camera.
Cai: “How— How should I stand? I haven't had photos taken in a very long time.” And he stands very rigidly like he's never stood a day in his life very suddenly.
Gwen: Dione, through the lens—as if looking for something that Pascal can't explain in words, that has to be seen—she sees his rigidity and she recognizes it. And she asks a question. Is Dione allowed to ask a question?
Cai: His entire faith is in Dione in this moment. He's possibly never been more vulnerable in front of her than he is right now, ready to be photographed for something that, the more you look at him through the viewfinder, the clearer you can see. He's fragile in this moment.
Gwen: “Pascal, why did you wait?”
Cai: “Well, because he was worth it.”
Gwen: “Simple as that?”
Cai: “Sort of, yeah. Um… I moved here thinking I would stay for a couple of months, go back home. He almost knocked me over. Not literally, but I knew I needed him in my life. I couldn't move back because it wouldn't be home anymore.”
Gwen: “You found a home.”
Cai: “I think he found me.” And that fragility becomes armour, not to keep you out, Dione, but it pulls him upright like strings lifting him whole. And he smiles from ear to ear, and he goes from being rigid and concerned about every joint in his body being at the wrong angle and looking strange in the camera to an easy smile, as he walks up to a dogwood tree and plants a hand on it. And leans easily.
Gwen: And Dione takes that money shot. And as she does, she puts the camera down, and she remembers another location. She took a picture of it, not with the camera, but on her phone. She pulls it out. She pulls up her photos. She swipes to it. And she holds it up and puts it down, so that she can be there. And… Can Dione ask that question again?
Cai: Of course.
Gwen: “Theo, I'm sorry if this is a hard question, but why did you wait?”
Cai: “Some things… change with time, and some things don't. And I needed to see if I could live a life without her, or if it was there waiting for me. Love, of course… And… Well, the answer ended up being neither, actually. Funny enough. I…” And in your phone, Theo looks at Pascal who cannot see him, and they smile warmly. “I was going to wait forever… Because I loved her very, very much. But that isn't how love works either.” And he just smiles, settles back into the pose on your phone.
Gwen: Dione nods slowly, as somebody who also loved Laurie in a way that was very different, that was impossible. Maybe even a glimmer of understanding. And Dione sighs. (Sigh.)
Cai: Below you, Dione, you hear, “Are you all done? The sun is going down.” And you hear the voice of Aspen who has been the chauffeur in this endeavour to get these two up here. And they have been down in the car doing who knows what.
Gwen: Cai, can Dione ask Aspen a question?
Cai: She's welcome to yell it to her or walk.
Gwen: Dione takes out her phone to a location that was never going to be… a photoshoot location, but it’s pretty cool. And she holds it up and puts it down to face Aspen. “I want to ask you something.”
Cai: “Sure.”
Gwen: “Take this however you want to take it. Why did you wait?”
Cai: And they look almost offended by this question.
Gwen: She expected that.
Cai: “It's like— This is going to sound really terrible, but do you know when you go fishing and you're supposed to stand in the water and wait for the fish to come to you? ‘Cause if you just jump in the water and try and grab ‘em, they all swim away?”
Gwen: “Yeah, unless you're a bear.”
Cai: “Yeah, but I'm— I'm not a bear, so… I had to wait in the water. Otherwise… I don't know, just felt like they were going to run away.”
Gwen: “I don't think that's a very good analogy.”
Cai: “Clearly, you don't go fishing enough.”
Gwen: “You don't have to wait that long if you use the right bait.”
Cai: And they just kind of shrug in the photo and then plop in the dirt and sit there cross-legged… They've got their tongue out and their hand up in the photo, too. And it's almost as if they're waving, like, I'll see you later. But it stops mid-motion ‘cause they were actually talking to you when you took the photo the first time.
Gwen: And Dione, looking at the photo… The mamba is also staring at it, wondering why it ever, ever tried to be a horse.
Cai: Dione, “Summer gleams and the chrysalis beckons. Are you willing to digest yourself into something unfamiliar?”
Gwen: You know, the thing about pickled vegetables is that they digest really well. And as Dione finishes off her pickled vegetable sandwich, the last of her cheese crisps… As she stares up at the night sky, electing to have stayed long after everybody had gone… Is she willing? She spends all of her time… changing. But at the same time, staying the same. Dione changes into… people as the way everyone remembers them. Those people cannot change. They are just memories now. That's all that Dione can do. She's not a true… shapeshifter. She's not becoming those people. She is… It's not fair to say that she's a mockery of those people, but maybe it is. But it's not her fault. It's how everybody else sees her. That's not true. And Dione turns to look at herself.
Gwen: “Stop blaming everybody. Yeah, everybody is sad. Everybody is grieving. What right do you have to blame them? Nobody asked you to be those people.”
Gwen: “I just wanted to help.”
Gwen: “You always want to help. I'm going to say something very basic. Why don't you help yourself?” And Dione turns to face herself again. “You hate dealing with this so much, you can't even see your own face. It's a veil. It's a helmet. It's a never-ending stretch of scales. Try something else. Try something else. Try something else. Try something else. Try something else. Try something else.” And the snake coils slowly around Dione's body and retreats into that hole, but not to hide… but to change.
Cai: And what object in the house changes?
Gwen: It's the knife again. A knife… that was previously somebody else's, except for it's not. This one is Dione’s. It is a dark carbon knife she had engraved with her initials. She had it custom-made, so that she can handle the dishes that she wants to make. And as long as she has her whetstone, she really won't need another one.
Cai: There is a spark deep in the walls of Laurie's House. As the fire surges down the front hallway and into the kitchen, it seems to only take seconds for the cabinets above the counter to lose structure, causing one of the shelves laden with dishes to succumb above the sink. Cups tip off the burning shelf onto a knife left carefully to dry over the edge of the sink. Dione, when the fire takes your kingdom, what blade do you call your own? Is it small enough to cut precisely or large enough to wield against a dragon?
Gwen: It's large enough to cut precisely against a dragon. It is Dione's custom black carbon knife.
Cai: The cup falls and tips the blade, but unlike if it had been made of steel—a sword, a dagger, anything to fight with other than in Dione's hand—it would have flung across the entire kitchen and sliced through the memory of Laurie, her apron hanging on the wall. Instead, it flies so high that it goes straight into the ceiling out of the fray. And when the house finally burns down, that section of the kitchen remains.
Cai: Upstairs, the third floor is burning. Aspen runs to the bunk bed where they grab a nicely coiled climbing rope with their bag and start to tie off the rope to the heavy-framed bunk bed while Eira looks for a way out away from the fire. But the window is locked shut. It has been for years. There's no screens on it, and unfortunately, the sash window itself has broken a long time ago. In the corner of an upstairs room, forgotten, is a cane which waits for use. Deen, what structure of love appears unclaimed in the stairwell of the house?
Amir/Nada: It is large, cumbersome if you don't use it. Deen has tripped over it so many times, and there is no better place to put it. I think it is a walker. It is a walker. Uh, but they knew, once they tried it in the corners of the house that were quiet and dark and would allow them to fall, that it needed to be heavy to anchor and catch in case of a fall.
Cai: A device made to catch falls and fall itself. From the outside of the window, we see it crash through, a rope tied to it and weighing it down, as it spirals bringing the rope quickly and sternly to the roof of the porch. An anchor. A safe bottom of the rope. Aspen slowly begins to lower themself, one hand over the other. Then, Eira, you can hear it. The decoration near the doorway has caught the bed that the rope is attached to. What adorns the bed that was once yours, once theirs? Is it comforting and new or worn and fraying?
Hamnah: The decoration is a series of felt balls that are left on the headboard, poorly made and in various sizes. They are loose, easy to knock over, easy to move around.
Cai: And more difficult to burn… The rope resists for just a moment longer. The tension at the bottom with the walker allows Aspen to safely descend. A moment later, the rope does catch enough that, Eira, you decide that you cannot safely descend that way and find an alternative route. But the house still burns. You all stand safely at a distance in the street and watch. The fire department—your fire station, Eira—arrives moments later, but it is too late. 1471 Thomas Sloan Avenue, Laurie's House, is gone.