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Booker
Booker + McCall
Booker:She’s still so mad at me.
McCall:She’s going to be even madder when she finds out secrets and lies are still piling up by the day.
Booker:I’ll tell her about my throat soon.
McCall:You’re like a fucking broken record, cuz.
Booker:I know.
McCall:It’s not only the fact you’ll never speak again. Does she know why she never got these letters I’m delivering? Does she know anything yet? It’s been two weeks.
Booker:She knows her parents had them. If she knew why they kept them, it would change her life. It would change every aspect of her life.
McCall:Some change is good and necessary.
Booker:And some change is utterly heartbreaking. You know how pissed off that girl is going to be? You know the bridge she’s going to burn? There’s fury, and then there’s Macie when she’s on a tear.
McCall:She’s might still be that girl you remember, but she’s also done a lot of growing up in the last four years. She’ll be angry, but she’ll survive it. Hell, she survived losing you.
Booker:Ouch. I’ll tell her the truth when I’m home. When I can be there for her. When I can hold her and help her heal.
McCall:You’re a frustrating bastard.
Booker:I know.
Booker + Macie
Booker:Still with me, Macie girl?
Macie:Apparently. The wildflowers are beautiful. McCall picks a lovely bouquet. But why didn’t I get these letters, Booker?
Booker:The why isn’t important, not right now. Our love story, that’s what I need you to focus on. That’s what I need you to remember, okay?
Macie:Tell me the fucking truth. Give me one damn truth that I can hold on to. I feel like this is all a game to you and it’s making me insane.
Booker:I never stopped loving you.
Macie:No. A truth. A fact about our past, about our present I don’t already know. Tell me something that’s concrete, not pretty words I read between classes when I should be working on lesson plans and cutting out damn paper hearts.
Booker:I’ll never speak again.
Macie:What?
Booker:It’s not hospital policy, phone calls I mean. When I fell and landed on the razor wire, it severed my vocal cords. The bullet wasn’t the scary part of my accident, it was the razor wire.
Macie:You’ll never speak. I’ll never hear your voice again?
Booker:Good thing you insisted on all those videos you took of us when we were younger, huh?
Macie:Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry, Booker.
Booker:Hey now, don’t be sorry for me. I’m alive. I’m learning sign language. I can text, I can type, and write. It’s not like I’ll never be able to communicate again.
Macie:Now I feel bad for being mean to you. Again.
