The Other
Story of D
Text ©2010 The Angst Guy (theangstguy@yahoo.com)
Feedback (good, bad, indifferent,
just want to bother me, whatever) is appreciated. Please write to: theangstguy@yahoo.com
Synopsis: When Jane discovers a short story that Daria wrote
during a low period in her life, she gains a view into Daria that she never
imagined existed.
Author’s Notes: The events in this story take place shortly
after the Daria TV movie, Is It College Yet? at the start of Daria’s
last summer at home before she goes to college in Boston. The title comes from Daria episode #505, “The Story of D,”
the events in which are referenced here. This story is strongly tied to episode
#413, “Dye! Dye! My Darling” and the TV movie, Is It Fall Yet? The events in episode #213, “Write Where It Hurts,”
are critical to this story, as the story-within-a-story here is an
alternate-future version of the story-within-a-story there.
Acknowledgements: My heartfelt appreciation goes out to these
most excellent beta-readers, who went above and beyond the call of duty:
Brother Grimace, Galen Hardesty, Robert Nowall, and Mike Xeno. Your comments
and criticisms helped the final work immensely. My gratitude also goes to Kara
Wild, who had a long debate with me about Daria’s ability to say the L word,
and I admit now that Kara was right. Figures.
*
EXT: Exterior scene
VO: Voice over (off screen)
1. INT: WEEKDAY AFTERNOON, EARLY SUMMER, DARIA’S BEDROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME
Daria Morgendorffer types at
her computer station, her back to her friend
JANE: Wow. I see why this had such an impact on your
mom and Mr. O’Neill. This is really good.
DARIA: [still
typing] If you cry on me, I’ll hit you.
JANE: Nah, I’m sort of immune to tissue-pullers. I
get my daily minimum requirement of angst just being an artist. [examines first page of story] You don’t have a
title for this.
DARIA: [still
typing] I thought about “Dawn of the Blood Suckers,” but it was sort of
cutesy.
JANE: Why don’t you call it “Hearts”? You and your
family play a game of hearts at the end, and it’s a pretty emotional
story—especially considering its source.
DARIA: [stops
typing, sighs] You’re right. I should burn it.
JANE: [looks
at Daria in disbelief] Burn it? Morgendorffer, you should send this out now
and get it published. I can’t believe you sat on this for two years. I’m
serious, this is great! Get it in print!
DARIA: Then everyone will cry on me. [gets up from computer] I’ll get the lighter
fluid.
JANE: [rolls
over on bed, holding story out of Daria’s reach] You’re
not going to burn this! You whine and whine about wanting to be a writer, then
you produce something like this, and you want to burn it? Get real! [looks over
side of bed at box of manuscripts] What else have you got?
DARIA: You’ve been snorting enamel paint fumes and
Crazy Glue again.
JANE: [sits up
on bed] That’s what the little blue aliens tell
me. [leans over, digs into box] Let’s see what the Muses tricked you into
doing.
DARIA: Hey! [walks over quickly to
grab box] You can’t read anything else. That was it.
JANE: [jerks a
folder out of the box and hides it behind her back] This
one I can!
DARIA: [glares]
Give it back! [grabs for it, but Jane
holds it out of reach]
JANE: [sweetly]
After I read it and cry over it, sure.
Daria fidgets and looks frustrated and anxious.
JANE: You’re scared that I’ll hate it? Look, I read
your weird story about the flesh-eating bacteria and we’re still friends,
right? And Tom loved it, silly sentimental boy that he is. Lemme read just one
more, this one.
DARIA: [frowns,
still fidgeting] Someone will be home soon, and
I’ll have to hide the box again.
JANE: [calmly
and deliberately] Daria, relax. Quinn’s dating, your folks are at
work—we’re alone! Take a chill pill and cool out. Poke at your ‘pooter and let
me read. This could really suck, it could suck so bad that it drags me into the
paper itself, but—trust me on this—I’ll still let you buy pizza for me.
DARIA: [glares
at Jane] You should work on a crisis hot line.
JANE: I call ‘em as I see ‘em.
Daria groans and walks back
to her computer, sitting in front of it. She doesn’t type right away. Jane nods
and opens the folder, taking out the story.
DARIA: [nonchalant
voice] What’s the name on the folder?
JANE: [turns
head sideways to read folder label] “The Other Story.”
With a gasp, Daria rockets out of her chair and
lunges for Jane, arms out, hands reaching for the manuscript.
DARIA: [panicked]
No! You can’t read that!
JANE: [startled]
Whoa! Down, girl! [carefully fends Daria off with feet and free hand,
holds manuscript out of reach] Okay, that’s it! Leave the room! Go!
DARIA: Hey, this is my room!
JANE: Out! [points to the door]
Go outside and kick someone. Go get a makeover, anything, but let me read this.
I swear I won’t read anything else. Just this one.
Daria looks stricken, far more upset than seems
appropriate.
JANE: [frowns]
There something in this story no one is supposed to
see? Or do you just think I suck at story reviews?
Daria swallows, her face alive with fear—but she then turns without a word and
leaves the room at a quick pace. Moments later, her footsteps are heard
descending the staircase to the first floor, then
hurrying off.
JANE: [surprised,
gets off bed, walks to doorway] Daria? Daria! Okay, I won’t read it! What’s
wrong?
After a long pause, Jane walks
back to the bed and settles back on the pillows. Glancing at the doorway from
time to time, she begins to read the story. We focus over her shoulder at the
top lines:
Jane starts to read the story, then frowns. She
picks up the first story she read (“Hearts,” the story from “Write Where It
Hurts”) and looks at it, then looks back and forth between the two stories
before putting “Hearts” aside and reading “The Other Story.”
2. DARIA’S STORY—EXT: A DECADE FROM NOW, FRONT DOOR, MORGENDORFFER HOME
Daria Morgendorffer, now an
adult, stands outside the front door of the Morgendorffer home in
HELEN: [cheery]
Hi, sweetie. And how’s my favorite grandchild today?
3. DARIA’S STORY—INT: MOMENTS LATER, FOYER, MORGENDORFFER HOME
DARIA: [enters
house quickly] She woke up at four and hasn’t gone back to sleep since.
We’re both worn out.
HELEN: [reaches
for crying baby] Here, let me take her.
DARIA: Sure. [lets Helen take the
baby] I couldn’t sleep anyway. The people in the upstairs apartment were
fighting, and the people downstairs had a party and wouldn’t turn down their
music. [sighs]
I’m sorry to complain. How are you doing, Mom?
HELEN: [holding
baby, who is now quiet] I’m okay. It’s harder to get out of bed anymore.
There isn’t much to do. I fixed up the flowerbed out front. Did you like it?
DARIA: [turns
to (closed) front door, then back to Helen] Yeah, it looked great. You’re
wearing a hat, right? When you go out? Covering up with sunscreen, sunglasses,
all that?
HELEN: [kisses
baby] Oh, sure. It’ll take more than an ozone layer collapse to keep Helen
Morgendorffer inside.
DARIA: Mom, that’s not funny anymore. You have to
keep covered up. The cancer rates are through the roof. Don’t you know that?
HELEN: [walks
toward living room with baby] Oh, Daria, for heaven’s sake, I watch the
news, too. [looks at Daria, narrows eyes] And why aren’t
you wearing a hat?
DARIA: [shrugs,
changes topic] What’s going on with you?
4. DARIA’S STORY—INT: MOMENTS LATER, LIVING ROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME
HELEN: Oh, Quinn’s in town, on her way to New York.
She’s supposed to drop in today sometime. Why don’t you stay for a while?
DARIA: [grim
look] Great. Maybe she’ll put her cell phone down and remember who I am.
HELEN: [glances at Daria] Oh, Daria.
DARIA: Oh, Daria, what? Mom, she hasn’t called me
since the funeral. She didn’t see me or call me when I was in labor, she
doesn’t even know what—[gestures at baby,
then puts both hands on her head]—why am I even going on about this? She
doesn’t care. [drops hands] She’s the one who’s got a life.
I sure as hell don’t. She’s got the jets, and I’ve got the clunker with no A/C.
HELEN: [sharply]
Daria, stop it. [nods at baby, cuddled against her] Mind if I
feed her? I still have some formula in the kitchen.
DARIA: [flops
down on old sofa] Sure, whatever. She won’t take it from me.
HELEN: [turns
as she’s leaving] What?
DARIA: I said, she won’t take it from me. I can’t
get her to... to breast feed. [turns red, looks away]
She won’t... she just won’t. I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe it’s because I’m
so tense or something, I don’t know what. She and I just get on each other’s
nerves. I dunno what’s wrong, but I have to use a bottle. I feel so damn
useless.
HELEN: [stares
at Daria, then goes into kitchen] She needs you, like I need you. You’re
her mother.
DARIA: [groans,
stares at nothing across the room for a few seconds] I went to see Dad on
the way over. They still haven’t seeded his plot or killed the weeds or
anything. I went in and yelled at the director and threatened to sue, and he
just said he’d look into it. [more worked up] I
hate that guy. He doesn’t give a damn. He gets his money, and you know he’s
thinking, what are you gonna do, dig him up and move him? Jeez, I hate that
bastard. [pause]
You know what, I’m going to do it myself. I’ll go buy
some grass seed and fertilizer and fix up Dad’s place like it should be. Just
let that bastard stop me. If Dad could see the mess his place is, he would have
a... he’d... [shrugs, quickly abandons
topic] I’m sorry. I’m not having a good life anymore.
HELEN: [VO,
from kitchen] Do you need money?
DARIA: [tense]
No, I don’t need money. I still have some left in the trust. I’m okay.
HELEN: [VO,
from kitchen] Have you heard back from your agent?
DARIA: [flinches,
groans] He let me go.
HELEN: [VO,
from kitchen] What? [reappears in doorway,
bottle-feeding baby] He let you go?
DARIA: [explosively]
He let me go, Mom! Damn, I’m sorry. He just let me go.
HELEN: [stares
at Daria in shock] How can he do that? He’s your
agent and he’s—
DARIA: [loudly]
Mom, please drop it, okay? He let me go! Nothing of mine is selling! I’m... I’m
trying to get back on with the local newspaper, maybe as an editor or
something. I see them tomorrow. They’ve got employee childcare there now. I
checked.
HELEN: [indicates
baby] I can take care of her during the day, if you need.
DARIA: No, Mom, I’ll take her in with me if I get
the job. I can’t have you do that. [hesitates] Oh... can you watch her tomorrow when I go in for
the interview? I have to type and everything, and I really hate to—
HELEN: Oh, Lord, Daria, of course! She’s my little
angel!
Daria looks at her daughter,
resting peacefully against her mother’s shoulder and drinking from the bottle.
Daria’s face becomes very sad.
HELEN: [hesitates,
soft voice] Have you gotten anything from Marcello?
DARIA: [pause,
shaken out of reverie] Not a thing. He’s off somewhere, probably screwing
his brains out, enjoying his freedom again.
HELEN: [shocked]
Daria!
DARIA: [sighs]
Mom, let it go. He’s gone.
HELEN: But I can’t believe he’d run off from his own
precious daughter! [louder]
Or mine!
Daria starts to answer, but
cannot. After struggling for words, she shrugs and looks away.
HELEN: What about the child welfare people I
recommended? Didn’t they go after him?
DARIA: They can’t find him, and they can’t get anything
out of his estate. He hid his money somewhere, and I can’t afford a hotshot
lawyer to dig it up. The state’ll take years to get around to it. He’s just
gone. I don’t even want to bother with him anymore.
HELEN: If I could take the case, I would, believe
me. Are you sure I can’t get someone from my old firm to—
DARIA: No, Mom, and don’t you pay for it, either.
He’d fight it, we’d go nowhere, and we’d spend all that money for nothing. Let
it go.
HELEN: Well, they’ll catch him one of these days and
make him pay!
Daria shrugs, beyond caring.
HELEN: You want some coffee?
DARIA: What? Oh. [gets off couch] Let me make it.
HELEN: Oh, I can do it.
DARIA: No, you’ve got your hands full. [heads into kitchen]
5. DARIA’S STORY—INT: MOMENTS LATER, KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER HOME
Daria enters the kitchen and
walks to the coffeemaker, picking up the glass pitcher and filling it in the
sink. Helen comes in behind her, standing on the other side of the central
counter, holding the bottle-nursing baby.
HELEN: Quinn was on WorldWeb News again. Her company’s doing really well.
DARIA: [filling
pitcher, dull voice] I know. Saw it on the tube this morning when there was
nothing else to do.
HELEN: I use her new blush. I don’t have it on right
now, but it is nice.
Daria doesn’t respond or
look at Helen.
HELEN: [looks
uncomfortable] Daria, I meant to ask you. Did the divorce go through?
DARIA: [puts
full pitcher into coffeemaker] Not yet. I have to
wait a full year and apply for abandonment if I can’t get him to respond. They
changed all the laws about that. I’ve got six months left.
HELEN: After that’s over... are you thinking about
looking again?
DARIA: For what? [pause] Oh. No.
HELEN: You’re a smart young woman, you could meet a—
DARIA: [fiddling
with coffeemaker controls] No. I was stupid once. God strike me down if I’m
stupid twice. Marcello was enough.
HELEN: Well, what do you think got into him that he
would run off—
DARIA: [turns
and shouts] He got sick of me, okay? Just drop it!
The baby stops feeding and
starts to cry. Helen puts down the bottle and cuddles the infant, making soft
noises, and the baby subsides. Daria leans back
against the counter by the sink, covering her face
with her hands.
DARIA: [muffled]
He just got sick of me. Everything fell apart. He got tired of me not getting
anywhere with anything, complaining all the time, and he left. Please let it
go, okay? Please?
Daria drops her hands, her
eyes red, and fiddles with the coffeemaker controls again. The doorbell rings.
HELEN: Oh! I’ll get it. I bet that’s Quinn! [leaves kitchen for front door, with baby]
DARIA: [stares
down at coffeemaker’s control lights] Shit. [rubs at her eyes with her palms, sniffs, straightens her clothing, leaves
kitchen for the front door]
6. DARIA’S STORY—INT: MOMENTS LATER, FOYER, MORGENDORFFER HOME
Helen opens the front door,
and Quinn comes in. Beautiful as a teenager, Quinn is stunning now, a twelve on
a scale of one to ten, wearing an expensive and colorful business suit with
tasteful diamond jewelry. Four men in white suits and sunglasses—clearly hiding
weapons in their jackets—walk back to a white stretch limousine parked by the
curb. The limousine’s windows are totally black.
QUINN: [to
bodyguards] Two hours, okay? [to Helen] Mom, good to see you. [leans close to kiss Helen, frowns and pauses because Daria’s baby is in the
way, manages to give Helen a peck on the cheek] I can’t stay long. There’s
a board meeting in Manhattan tomorrow morning. Lots of stuff in the air.
Babysitting in your spare time now?
HELEN: This is your little niece! Isn’t she
adorable? Sweetie, please stay as long as you can. I haven’t seen much of you
lately.
QUINN: [flips
her long hair back] Yeah, I know. I’ve... [sees Daria walk into view from the kitchen] Well, well, big sis is home,
too. [raises right hand, palm down and level, to
forehead as if measuring her height] I’m still taller than you are, you
know?
Daria walks up to Quinn, but
just before she reaches her sister, a cell phone rings in one of Quinn’s
pockets. Quinn instantly holds up a hand to keep Daria back as she fishes in
her pocket for the phone.
QUINN: Wait a second, I think this is... [puts cell phone to ear] Quinn
here. Oh, Andre. Yes, hold on a moment, let me go in the other room. I’m
in Lawndale, yeah. Hold on.
Quinn brushes past Daria,
who had started to put out her arms to greet her sister. As Quinn walks off
into the living room, Daria stares after her in shock, then drops her arms and
looks painfully depressed. Helen stares from Quinn to Daria, stunned at what
happened.
HELEN: [heads
after Quinn] I’m going to bring her back. She should know better.
DARIA: [exasperated]
Forget it, Mom.
7. DARIA’S STORY—INT: MOMENTS LATER, LIVING ROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME
Helen, still carrying the
baby, walks up behind Quinn.
QUINN: [to
phone] Do you have Exhibit C? You know what that’s
all about, right? [pause]
Damn right it is.
HELEN: [loud
angry whisper] Quinn, your sister’s here!
QUINN: [to
phone] Uh, hold a sec. [thumbs button
on phone, turns to Helen in anger] Mom, I let you interrupt every family
vacation and get-together we’ve ever had with your stupid phone calls from that
retard Eric. The least you can do is let me take this one call. My whole career
depends on this. Okay? Can I have that?
HELEN: [taken
aback] Well... please hurry. You haven’t seen
Daria in ages.
QUINN: As soon as I get this wrapped up. [thumbs phone back on, flips her hair, to phone]
Andre, you still there? Good. Exhibit C is going in,
or else you’re going to feel a nuclear pitchfork right in your ass, got it?
Helen looks startled at
Quinn’s words and tone, then turns and walks back to
Daria—but Daria’s gone. Still holding the baby, Helen walks to the kitchen
entrance and sees Daria walking over to the coffeemaker.
8. DARIA’S STORY—INT: MOMENTS LATER, KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER HOME
In the background, we see
Helen enter the kitchen. Daria, her face tight, pulls the pitcher from the
coffeemaker—but the pitcher jams and sloshes boiling coffee over her right
hand. She jerks back with a cry, grabbing her injured hand. She quickly puts
her hand under the sink faucet and runs cold water over it, her face reflecting
terrific pain.
DARIA: OW, DAMN IT! [runs water on hand] Damn it to hell!
HELEN: Daria, sweetheart, are you all right?
DARIA: [face
rigid, gasps] Fine! I’m fine!
HELEN: [hurries
to see injured hand, holding baby] Let me see
that!
The baby begins to cry.
Helen gasps in horror when she sees Daria’s hand.
HELEN: Oh, Daria! You need to have that looked at!
DARIA: [strained
look, still in great pain, hand under running water] I don’t have health
insurance, Mom! Just leave it alone! It’s okay! Forget it!
HELEN: I don’t care if you don’t have health
insurance! I’m taking you to have that looked at! I’ll pay for it!
The baby cries harder, sensing the tension and loud
voices.
QUINN: [VO, in
living room, loudly, to phone] I said two one three, Andre. Dick around
with me any more, and it goes up to five one three. [pause] You think I’m fucking
kidding, don’t you? Well, you— [pause]
All right, then.
DARIA: [takes
bright red hand out of water, holds it up, wiggles fingers painfully] Look,
Mom! I’m okay, all right? [sniffs back tears]
It’s just red, that’s all! [looks at her baby]
Look, can you get her to stop crying? My hand doesn’t hurt any more, I swear
it. I’m fine. [turns off water, picks up dishtowel and gingerly
dabs her burned hand dry, her face trembling each time the dishtowel touches
her skin] See? I’m okay. I’m fine.
Unnoticed by Daria or Helen,
Quinn enters the kitchen and stops just in the doorway. She watches them with a
look between amusement and disgust. Daria’s baby still cries loudly.
HELEN: Baby, you can’t go to that interview with
your hand like that! How are you going to type or write—
DARIA: [looks
at her baby, loud and anguished] Can’t you get her
to stop crying?
QUINN: [calm,
disinterested] When you two are done, I have some news.
Daria and Helen glance at
Quinn, surprised to see her. Helen rubs the baby’s back, making cooing noises.
QUINN: [nods
to Daria] What’s with your hand?
DARIA: [hides
her hand] Nothing. Tell us your news.
HELEN: [kisses
baby] Ssh, Grandma’s little angel, Grandma loves
you, loves you, loves you.
The baby subsides, but still
appears upset.
QUINN: [watches
Helen] I just remembered why I decided not to have kids yet. [shrugs] Well, the
bad news, Mom, is that you’re moving out of this dump.
HELEN: [stares
at Quinn] What?
QUINN: I’m moving you out of this dump. Pick a city,
any city, and you’re going there. Pick a house, any house, and you’ve got it. [glances at Daria] You can have this one if you
want, sis.
HELEN: Quinn, what on earth are you talking about?
QUINN: [pauses,
grins like a wolf] The Big Red Q is no more. I just sold my interest in
Q-Star Cosmetics.
Daria and Helen stare at
Quinn, thunderstruck. Daria’s baby begins to cry again, but Helen absently rubs
the baby’s back, and again the baby subsides.
DARIA: Your company? You sold it?
QUINN: My interest in it, and I’m retiring as CEO. I
sign the papers in Manhattan tomorrow. [to Helen, deadpan
voice] Sorry I was on the phone, Mom, but I had to finish what I started. I
learned that from you. Don’t let anything stop you from clinching the deal.
HELEN: [stunned,
weak voice] Well, it would have been nice to greet your sister first.
QUINN: [waves
issue aside, walks forward to island counter in kitchen, rests hands on counter]
I’ll greet her now. [deadpan]
Hi, Daria. Long time, no see.
DARIA: [still
hiding her hand, deadpan] So, what did you sell
out for?
QUINN: [smiles,
speaks slowly] Two hundred thirteen billion. [pause] Not counting the extra
annual payouts for the next ten years, of course.
Daria stops moving; she
stares at Quinn with a mixture of disbelief and dread. Helen gasps, her eyes
huge, her mouth open. Both are staggered.
HELEN: Oh, my God. Oh, my God, you... that’s...
QUINN: Sold my shares to Sandi and her backers.
She’s been after my job since day one, and she’s got it. [wicked grin] Hope she enjoys the hot seat. There’s a hostile buyout
waiting in the wings in just two days.
HELEN: You said... how many million?
QUINN: Two hundred thirteen billion. Billion, Mom,
not million. [pause]
Pick a city, pick a house, and it’s yours. Damn, just pick a freaking city,
and it’s yours, all right?
Daria looks down at her
injured hand. Most of her right hand is bright red and beginning to swell. She
carefully wraps her hand in the dishcloth, adjusting it to look as if she were
carrying it. Her face betrays no emotion, though her jaw is tight with pain.
HELEN: [shocked,
soft voice] I... but what if I want to live here? I mean, this is our home,
Quinn. It’s all I have.
QUINN: You can have a townhouse in Paris, Mom, and
one in Miami and one in Hong Kong and wherever the hell else you want. [shrugs] Think it
over.
DARIA: [low
deadpan, dry mouth] Congratulations.
QUINN: [eyes
Daria coolly] Thank you. [pause] Know what? It worked out sort of ironically, you
know? Today is the tenth anniversary of the moment I got the idea for Q-Star.
Did I ever tell you how it happened?
HELEN: [still
shocked, weak voice] No. I think I’d better sit
down. [wanders over to table and sits in chair with baby]
DARIA: [looks down, avoiding Quinn’s gaze] No. You
haven’t talked to me much.
QUINN: [looks
intently at Daria] It was the night of the
Blush-a-thon. You remember that? [snorts, smiles]
You ought to. I had Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany over. Sandi was doing Stacy, and
I was doing Tiffany, and I kept thinking, what’s wrong with my color sense? I
was having trouble getting the colors right on Tiffany’s skin. It was her skin,
her eyes, her hair, her lips, everything. I kept moving lamps around, trying to
get more light, and it dawned on me. It was a, um, revelation. [smiles] I like
that word. Revelation. I suddenly knew what was wrong with the colors I was
using on Tiffany.
DARIA: [low
deadpan] And now you control
QUINN: [grins,
scratches her nose] Well, the cosmetics part of it, yeah. We grossed a
trillion last year for the first time. Funny to think of it now. Sandi in
control, right where she wants to be, Stacy running human resources, and
Tiffany our top core-product model—and me taking early retirement.
DARIA: [low
dry voice, still avoiding eye contact] Why did you sell out?
QUINN: Time to move on. I’m almost thirty, I’ve
worked my ass off, and I want to enjoy the rest of my life. I’m not making the
same mistake Dad did.
HELEN: [shocked]
Quinn! How can you say that?
QUINN: [to
Helen, tense and angry] He worked himself down to nothing, Mom. Between his
job and his bad eating habits and yelling all the time about his childhood, he
wore himself out. He ruined his heart and killed himself. I begged him to eat
better and calm down, but no, he wouldn’t listen. Now I’m rich as a freaking
solid-gold bitch, and I quit.
HELEN: [shrinks
back, stares at Quinn] Two hundred billion. Oh, my God.
DARIA: [slowly]
You said I ought to remember the Blush-a-thon. [pause]
Why?
QUINN: [casually
to Daria] Because that was the night you made out
with Jane's boyfriend, Tom Sloane, and broke them up. Still can’t believe you
did that, then went and told Jane the next day. You were such an idiot.
Daria gasps. She steps back
and bumps into the counter behind her. Her face turns white.
QUINN: You were putting the moves on Tom when I was
putting the moves on the world.
Daria’s lips move as if she
were trying to say something. Nothing comes out.
QUINN: That’s how it goes. One of us had her head on
right. You used to despise me for all the time I spent dealing with fashion and
cosmetics and—
HELEN: [stands
up unsteadily with baby, walks toward Quinn] Quinn, how can you talk to her
like that? She’s your sister, for the love of God!
DARIA: [pushes
away from counter, not looking at Quinn, to Helen] I have to go. I’ll take
her now.
HELEN: Daria, don’t go yet! [to Quinn] You apologize to your sister!
QUINN: For what? Giving her what’s coming to her?
All the years she made me look like a fool, always bragging how smart she was—
HELEN: Quinn! [baby begins to cry again, Daria takes baby from Helen and quickly walks
past Quinn, leaving the kitchen]
QUINN: [shouting
after Daria] How smart are you now, Daria? You lost your best friend, the
only damn friend you ever had, then you dumped Tom right after you kissed him,
and how smart was that? If you’d married him, you’d be a millionaire now! He’s
not even worth a goddamn fraction of what I am, but you would’ve had it made!
HELEN: Quinn, shut up!
QUINN: [shouting
after Daria] Does the truth hurt, big sister?
9. DARIA’S STORY—INT: MOMENTS LATER, FOYER AND LIVING ROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME
Her crying baby in her arms,
Daria goes quickly to the front door. Helen is right behind her. Quinn comes
into the living room, her face alive with wicked, gleeful rage.
HELEN: Daria, please wait! Let me talk to Quinn!
QUINN: [shouts
to Daria] You ever hear from Jane again?
HELEN: [to
Quinn] Stop it! [begins to cry] Please, stop it! Not in my house!
Daria struggles to open the
front door, using her injured right hand. Her face twists in pain. Her baby
cries loudly and shrilly.
QUINN: [shouts
to Daria] Did anything in your life ever go right
after you lost Jane? Anything at all? Do you feel smart, Daria? Where are your
books, your money, that worthless ass-wipe husband of yours? [louder] Where’s
your best friend? You screwed her over, and where are you now? You feeling
smart now?
10. DARIA’S STORY—EXT: MOMENTS LATER, FRONT YARD, MORGENDORFFER HOME
Daria gets the front door
open and hurries outside. She stumbles on the concrete outside and nearly
falls, rushing for her car, but keeps her footing. She limps, however, favoring
one ankle. Helen, crying, hurries out after her. Daria goes to the driver’s
side of her little car, still shielding her baby from the sun, and manages to
get the door open with her right hand though she gasps in pain. She gets the
seat to fold forward, then she reaches into the back
seat, where a child’s car seat is strapped down. The baby cries loudly,
nonstop. Two doors open in the limousine parked by the curb, and two bodyguards
wearing sunglasses get out, watching with wary expressions.
QUINN: [shouts
from front door] Ten years, Daria! Did you ever find another friend like
her? You want me to buy you some friends, Daria? I can get you all the friends
you want!
HELEN: [crying,
to Daria] Please don’t go! Don’t drive like this!
Daria gets her baby strapped
in the car seat, then snaps the driver’s seat back.
Her face is red and puffy; tears run from her eyes. She gets into the driver’s
seat, shuts the door, and starts the car without putting on her seat harness.
The baby’s screams are heard clearly even with the car doors shut.
QUINN: [shouts
from front door] You still miss her, don’t you?
You know how I know that, Daria? You know how I know that you still miss the
only friend you ever had?
11. DARIA’S STORY—INT: MOMENTS LATER, IN AND AROUND DARIA’S CAR
Daria throws the car into reverse, and she backs out of the driveway without watching
for traffic. A car squeals to a halt, almost ramming her from behind as she
enters the street. Two more bodyguards get out of the limo, hands on their weapons,
grimly watching Daria leave. Daria puts the car in drive and pulls away from
the house, tires screaming, heading down the street at
increasing speed. The baby’s screams are intense and unending. Daria’s right
hand cannot grasp the steering wheel properly, as her fingers are badly burned.
DARIA: [voice
breaking, tears running down face] Please don’t cry! Please don’t cry,
Jane! You’re all I’ve got! [breaks down and sobs
as she drives] You’re all I’ve got left in the world, Jane, please, please,
don’t cry!
[story ends]
12. INT: A SHORT WHILE LATER, KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER
HOME
Daria makes herself a
sandwich, alone in the kitchen. Jane quietly walks into the kitchen; the
manuscript is not with her. She looks solemn.
DARIA: [her
back to Jane, deadpan] So, it sucked. The matches
are in the drawer on the left.
JANE: [softly]
No. [pause]
You mad at me?
DARIA: [whisper]
No.
The two are quiet for a few
moments.
JANE: Why’d you finally let me read it?
Daria does not respond,
except—after a pause—to shrug.
JANE: Did you write it last summer, when you were
working at Mr. O’Neill’s weird little “okay-to-cry” camp?
DARIA: [hesitates,
low voice] Before camp. [pause, very low voice] After I broke up with Tom.
The first time.
JANE: You beat yourself up pretty good. The hand
thing, the... the everything.
Daria does not respond.
JANE: [looks
thoughtfully at Daria’s back] You told me you got your inspiration for that
first story, the “Hearts” one, from your mom, when she told you to write down
what you really wanted to see happen. I got the feeling that you thought you
deserved what happened to you in the second one. [pause] You don’t mind a little
analysis here, do you?
DARIA: [fiddling
with her sandwich] The knives are in the drawer
next to you. If you use a big one, you can get this over with much quicker.
JANE: Hmmm. You know, I thought Quinn was out of
character. That wasn’t really like her at all, not like I’ve seen her. I think
she was channeling you, what you thought about all that stuff with you and me
and Tom. I sort of wish I’d heard the same channeling when I met Tom, and you
got dropped out of the picture.
A long pause develops. Daria
stops fiddling with her sandwich and just stands at the kitchen counter,
staring down at her sandwich, her back to Jane.
JANE: You and I have never talked a lot about the
guys-and-dating issue. We didn’t until it was too late, anyway. I remember at
the end of last summer we agreed not to leave each other in the lurch again if
a hottie appeared on the horizon, and I assume that we’re past the point of
beating ourselves up over Tom or anyone else. I think that’s all ironed out.
DARIA: [doesn’t
look up] So, there’s nothing else to say.
JANE: [leans
against center island counter, crosses arms] You know what took me the
longest time to work out in my head, about Tom and everything, was realizing
how much you needed me. I need you, too, but I don’t think now that I
understood how much you needed me.
DARIA: I’m glad I’m not paying you eighty dollars an
hour for this.
JANE: You’ll get my bill. I thought a lot about what
you said when you came to see me last August at the art colony, about me being
a confidence-building role model for you, and I thought about how I cut you off
when Tom and I were seeing each other. I actually think you and I had more time
together when you were dating Tom than when I was.
DARIA: [still
looking at sandwich] So, when we go to
JANE: [laughs]
Oh, you wish! College is where the hormones are rockin’, and the parents and
siblings aren’t there knockin’. We’re both gonna be seeing people, Daria. You
get something from a guy that you can’t get from anywhere else.
DARIA: With food poisoning, I can get nausea,
vomiting, diarrhea, cramps, and near-death experiences. Just like dating,
except there’s no one there to take you for granted or argue with you—or get
you pregnant, or give you an STD, or—
JANE: Daria, I know it isn’t the driving force in
your life, and it isn’t the number-one thing in my life, either, but... let me
ask you something. You liked it when you first kissed Tom, didn’t you?
Daria stops moving. Her face
slowly turns red all the way to the back of her neck.
DARIA: I’ll tell you where the jewels are hidden.
Stop the torture.
JANE: That’s real life, Daria. You know it. I think
you can accept it and deal with it better now than anytime before. We’re both
headed there. [pause]
You know what I’d like? I’d like someday to meet someone who accepted me as I
am, who loved me for being me, who needed me to be me, and who was also a guy.
I need that last part.
DARIA: Except for the guy part, you... [stops, quickly picks up sandwich and plate and
puts them in the refrigerator] Lost my appetite. I
gotta go.
JANE: Except for the guy part, I had you nailed,
didn’t I?
DARIA: [fearful]
No! [tries to leave kitchen, not looking at Jane]
JANE: Hey! Stop right there, Morgendorffer! Stop, I
mean it! [Daria stops on the other side
of the center island, just short of the entryway] Stop... right... there.
Jane walks around the
counter to stand before Daria, who looks down.
JANE: [softly]
I’m going to tell you something I’ve never said to you before.
DARIA: [anxious]
What you do decide to do with any number of consenting
adults and farm animals in the privacy of your own room is fine with—
JANE: I love you, Daria.
Daria backs up a step, still
looking down. She appears small and extremely frightened.
JANE: Look at me. Really, I mean it. Look at me. I
love you.
Daria swallows, then slowly raises her gaze
and looks at Jane, her face reddening. She looks scared and vulnerable and near
tears.
JANE: I will never have another friend like you. No
one will ever mean as much to me as you do.
DARIA: [eyes
glisten, voice hoarse] Please don’t...
JANE: Don’t tell you how I feel? I think you need to
know this.
DARIA: [hoarse]
I... I already know. [rubs her eyes] I... [sniffs]... you, too. Please stop.
I don’t want to... I hate to...
JANE: We’ll stop, but I had to tell you. I read your
story, and it really affected me, and I just wanted you to know where you are
in my life. That’s all I wanted to do.
DARIA: [takes
off glasses, wipes eyes with palm of right hand] Okay. Stop now.
JANE: [smiles]
Hey, c’mon, that didn’t hurt, did it? At least I didn’t cry all over you.
DARIA: [clears throat, puts glasses back on] This
was almost as bad.
JANE: You know, I didn’t cry at all when I read your story, in fact, until I—[voice breaks, Jane bursts into tears]—got to the part where you named your baby after meeeeeeeeeee!
Jane grabs the startled Daria and hugs her
tight, crying all over her.
DARIA: Jane! Jane!
JANE: [cries
hard] You’re my best friend in the whole world! I
want you to have lots of babies and name them all after me!
DARIA: [struggles
to get free] Let go! Jane!
JANE: [sobs
but begins to laugh at the same time] I’m going to call Tom and Trent and
have them come over and start making babies with you right now!
DARIA: [flails
one free arm, tries to escape but fails] Damn it!
It’s the paint fumes, Jane! Paint fumes and Crazy Glue!
Original
07/19/02; modified 01/29/03, 07/25/06, 09/22/06, 11/12/09, 05/03/10
FINIS