Misguidance Counselors: INT. SMALL CHURCH

by Sarah Goeke

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Hello Campers! 

Yesterday seems to have been a very Monday Monday for almost everyone. Those Oscars party hangovers after partying like Ke Huy Quan don’t help. But we mainly blame the time change, though we are staunch proponents of permanent daylight savings time; months of pitch darkness at 4:00 p.m. is not good for anyone’s mental health. I don’t care if that one rural county in Michigan won’t have sunrise until 9:00 a.m. for two weeks in January. I really don’t appreciate living in yet another analogy for the American experience. 

Speaking of “M” states: WE ARE SO EXCITED TO INTRODUCE A NEW CONTRIBUTOR! Sarah Goeke is an actor and writer who, in INT. SMALL CHURCH, merges screenwriting and prose to capture that relatable exchange when visiting your hometown. We know you’ll love Sarah’s witty first piece with MC.

Please click the heart and share on ur social medzzzz!

LYLAS,

Ur Misguidance Counselors, Sam and Marilyn

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INT. SMALL CHURCH 

Somewhere in one of the “M” states, a small town church rustles with congregants making their way to their seats in tidy wooden pews. Murky sunlight gently illuminates a wall of stained glass. An organ plays a variation of a popular strophic hymn. 

OH GOD (30s, used to be from this small town, tries to forget about it) flinches. From her seat in the back pew, she has unfortunately made eye contact with MEGAN (mid-30s, face looks like a pretty dog somehow, she is also from here, still is from here) who is holding an infant in a tiny embroidered, crocheted sweater. 

OH GOD feels herself smile and stand up. She is moving towards MEGAN. She wishes she could stop. But she can’t. 

MEGAN smiles graciously. She doesn’t stand. 

OH GOD crouches to be level with MEGAN and her crochet-wrapped baby. 

OH GOD: Megan, wow it’s great to see you, it’s been so long…

MEGAN: Yeah, I know. So long…

OH GOD: I think since graduation - wow - I think 10 years ago?

MEGAN: More. Closer to 15 years.

OH GOD: Wow. And who’s this? 

OH GOD doesn’t need to ask this. The baby is labeled in its sweater. “MARY” is written in measured, perfect red stitches. 

MEGAN: Mary Ann…

OH GOD: Ohmygosh, she’s perfect - hi. Hey there, Mary. Wow, it’s so good to meet you, sweetie.

OH GOD speaks for longer than is necessary to the baby (who, despite its sentience, doesn’t understand her) in order to avoid sharing any more banal small talk with Megan. 

OH GOD: (cooing) Mary and Megan, what a nice pair. I love your name. Yes, I do. I love your little name. Mary. Little Mary Ann. 

OH GOD does not know what she’s saying. She thinks perhaps this scene is happening to someone else. She wishes the writing were better. 

OH GOD: So is this your first? 

MEGAN: Second, actually. Luke is home with Josh. This is her first church service, believe it or not. (Apologetically) We’re not really church people. 

OH GOD wonders briefly if MEGAN has mistaken her for someone who gives a shit about church. She’s unsure how to respond. 

OH GOD: Oh, that’s nice. (beat, then excitedly) You know, there’s a nursery here? 

MEGAN: (curtly) Oh yeah. I know. I’m just gonna hold her on my lap, and if she makes a peep I’ll just jump up out of here. 

OH GOD feels a shiver of fear. She believes she may have mistakenly dissed MEGAN in small-town subtext. In .2 seconds she runs through the possibilities-

OH GOD suggesting the nursery for MARY could’ve mistakenly implied: 

1. OH GOD thinks MARY is going to be loud, suggesting that OH GOD cares about this service and how quiet it is.

2. OH GOD thinks MEGAN should have brought MARY to church more frequently for GâWd reasons. And, also, so MARY would learn how to be quiet and reverent at one-year-old. 

3. OH GOD gives a flying fuck about any of this, where MEGAN is or isn’t, or what her kid does. 

Directly after these .2 seconds of spiraling, OH GOD begins to spit such contrived, nonlinear bullshit that even she doesn’t understand where she’s going. 

OH GOD: Oh, yeah! Of course- no, that’s great! No, just-  I used to go to church here, and- so when I went past it, and was like, whoa! The nursery! And, actually, it’s not even in the right spot. It’s downstairs now. Which is-- And! You know, Lily, my sister? Has a kid now. And she was talking about how crazy it is to see her daughter there. In the nursery where we used to play. And, just, seeing you with your daughter, like- the generations- and. Just the years and time you know? It just keeps going. And, you, honestly, haven’t changed at all, it’s kind of amazing. You look exactly the same. It’s almost like someone handed you someone’s baby. Like, of course, she’s yours but just like- It’s crazy. 

MEGAN’S eyes narrow just slightly as if trying to read something in a foreign language. 

OH GOD can feel the blush working its way up from her neck. 

MEGAN: It is, yeah… It's been amazing to take my kids to the same places I went as a child. It’s beautiful. 

OH GOD: Yeah, I can imagine. Well, I’m gonna get back to my seat. 

MEGAN: Yeah, of course.

OH GOD: It was great to see you.

It definitely wasn’t. But the scriptwriter for this interaction isn’t creative. The writer is in fight or flight. 

MEGAN: Yeah, you too. You can tell- time has really been kind to you. 

OH GOD wants to crawl inside herself and hide in her intestines. OH GOD has just received a compliment from her high school bully, and unfortunately, OH GOD’S current software cannot handle this update. 

OH GOD: And you. Seriously, it’s like you haven’t changed at all. 

OH GOD is a horrible scriptwriter. But she can’t stop. She could really benefit from a small fire in the building or a light earthquake right about now.

OH GOD: It’s like when you watch a bad hallmark movie and the makeup department doesn’t have a very good budget, so when they age up the actors you can tell they’re the same age, but, like, there are tiny lines? Or, like not lines- you don’t even have lines really, you literally look like a child still. I mean it’s you. But it’s- you look amazing. I seriously have barely thought about you since you graduated. I mean, not like, on purpose, well yes, kind of on purpose, just like. You know we didn’t, you never, we weren’t “friends” per se. There’s really no reason to keep in touch. And it was pre-Facebook. So. Just. What I’m trying to say is that my mental image of you is untainted like it’s a very clear comparison of you now and you in high school, and you look GREAT. And, it was so good to see you. And I hope that Mary Ann enjoys the service. Um, I’ll talk to you guys later. 

MEGAN: Oh yeah, we will. Good to see you, too. 

OH GOD: (cooing) Bye, Mary... Bye, Mary. 

OH GOD waves hugely at MARY, waiting for a response. 

MARY stares blankly at OH GOD. Punishing OH GOD with infant apathy. 

OH GOD starts to leave when MARY smiles and giggles like a Gerber babe. 

OH GOD smiles for real for the first time in this conversation. 

OH GOD: …She really is beautiful. 

MEGAN: …Thank you. 

OH GOD: See you. 

MEGAN: See you. 

OH GOD walks back to her pew, facing away from MEGAN and MARY, blissfully.

She sits and huffs out a long breath. After 3 breaths OH GOD melts mercifully out of her dissociative state as the scriptwriter of this nightmare of a scene. She reconnects back with her mind, body, and, gradually, with reality at large. 

INT. SMALL CHURCH by Sarah Goeke, @sgerk

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