Bob: [Clumsily, Bob trudges down the coastline, mumbling to himself.] Why in the hell did the Big BadAss send me to find Laura when there are still enough survivors on the island to form a search party? [With each step he takes the bulky camera equipment grows more burdensome. Releasing an annoyed huff, he stops to adjust the strap oh his shoulder as a sliver of movement captures his attention. Squinting], Laura?

[Relaxing under the shade of a massive tree, Laura's tired sigh echoes her thoughts--long day. Quietly speaking to herself], Hell, who am I kidding? It's been a long month...long and stressful. [Time seems infinite as she stares out into the blue, foam-white sea. But with sudden dawning, she pulls two pills from her pocket...blindly grabs her bottled water and washes them down. Strangely curious, Laura studies the powdered white sand stuck to her palms until the cool call of the sea recaptures her attention. Her lips curl into a child-like grin as her honeyed eyes travel down the length of her legs and on out to settle on the lulling waves creeping further and further inland--a liquid embrace curling round her wiggling toes. The faint trace of Laura's giggle beckon to Bob who quietly approaches. As he grows near, he can see the open book in her lap, the subtle movement of her lips moving quietly over unseen words...her face turned to the heavens, her eyes closed as dreamers eyelashes fan across her face in contemplation.] "Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at the close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Bob: [Quietly], Laura?

[With a start her eyes slit open as a self-conscious blush colors her cheeks. Shifting to look at him, Laura smiles weakly. Her voice low and tentative], Oh...hi Bob...[Embarrassed, she closes the book and flashes him the cover.] Uh...Dylan Thomas.

Bob: [Nods awkwardly], Yeah. [An uncomfortable silence settles between them and stretches out painfully. Finally], Uh...the others are worried about you.

Others?

Bob: Yeah, you know...Shane, John and Marlena...

[At the sound of Marlena's name Laura's face clouds.] So that worked out, huh? I always figured John was the key. [Laura offers Bob an unreadable smile before returning to her book.]

Bob: [Thinking she would continue, Bob waits but no reply is forthcoming.] What about you?

[Dully], What about me?

Bob: [Chuckles darkly], You make it real difficult, you know?

[Confused], What?

Bob: To care...Shane cares...

[Wearily rubbing at the pain collecting behind her eyes, Laura interrupts. The dark intensity of her eyes boring into his.] Bob, I'm not a young woman anymore. [Quirkily], I don't particularly like admitting that fact...but, hey, not admitting it doesn't make it any less true. [Running anxious fingers through his salt-n-pepper beard, Bob smiles.] I've been around the block a few times. I've been married and divorced and married and divorced again. [With a far away look in her eyes, Laura continues.] I've been blessed with a couple of great kids...a couple more darling grandchildren. And I've made my share of mistakes...Shane is a wonderful man--a beautiful, intelligent, sexy, funny man...[smiles sadly], who happens to be in love with his work and his ex-wife.

Bob: Did he tell you this?

[Sarcastically], Yeah...in the midst of afterglow. [Releasing a slightly exasperated laugh], He doesn't have to say it Bob. Any half way observant person can see it--it's in his eyes.

Bob: [Bob grins as his brow rises in question.] And what about the way he looks at you? [Receiving no answer, Bob presses forward. Grabbing Laura's hand, he compels her to meet his gaze.] What about his panic when he nearly tore this island apart looking for you?

[Shifting slightly out of his grasp, Laura’s voice drops to a hushed whisper.] Look, I don't expect you to understand...But I've been here before...it never works out. [Regaining her composure, Laura straightens.] And forgive me, but I don't see why we should keep trying to live out some delusion that in the long run only amount to one thing--a lot of heartache.

Bob: [Narrowing his eyes], Hmm...

[Unsure she wants the answer, Laura can't stop herself from asking.] What?

Bob: [Shaking his head], I just never took you to be so jaded, that's all.

[A slightly hysterical laugh escapes Laura's lips.] What show have you been watching?

Bob: [Bob's knowing eyes glow.] Well how do you explain Marlena then?

[As the smile spreads across her face, laughter filters through her words.] There is no explanation for Marlena. She just one of those special souls--broke the mold. [With a twinkling eye], Either that or she sucked all the goodness out of Sam in the womb.

Bob: [Distractedly], Now there's a theory. [Re-focusing], No...I mean how do you explain your friendship with Marlena? If you really felt the way you say, you would have cut your loses a long time ago.

[Nonplussed], That's different.

Bob: [Reaches to scratch his beard], Maybe...but sounds to me like someone doesn't believe they deserve happiness. [With cocky self-assurance that sets Laura's hair on end, Bob's eyebrow shoots up as his mouth curls into a playful smirk.]

[Peevishly], Thank you Dr. Bob...Is that your professional opinion?

Bob: [Raising his hand in mock surrender], Hey, I just call 'em like I see 'em.

Ummhmm... [Wearily, Laura pulls a wind-blown lock away from her mouth and tucks it securely behind her ear.] It's not a matter of deserving happiness...we all come into this world deserving happiness, but it's a little naive to believe it gets metered out in equal portions...And I just speak what I know to be true. My whole life, everything I touch breaks, turns to dust and slips between my fingers. [Marking her withdrawal from the conversation, Laura shifts back toward the water and returns to her book.]

Bob: [Disbelieving], So what...you're just going to sit here with your morose poetry?

[Laura's eyes widen as she playfully wags her finger.] First, Dylan Thomas is not morose...And second, yeah I just might. [Looks longingly into the waves], Or I might have my own great awakening--embrace my freedom, strip off all my clothes and walk out into the water never to be seen again. [A fiery look flashes across Laura's eyes.] Or maybe I'll shuffle off to Vegas...become some pathetic cliché--an aging showgirl. Or perhaps I'll crawl back into the dark, dusty shadows of the Brady attic. [Her eyes shine coyly.] Hell, I might even take up with some wild and woolly cameraman. And if all else fails, I could always book a reservation at one of the nation's finer asylums...[Laura's eyebrows shoot up.] One of the advantages of being the resident lunatic--you can do just about anything you damn well please and no one thinks anything of it.

Bob: [Shaking his head in amusement], Well as tempting at that one option sounds, I don't think any of those things are what you really want.

[Laura's voice takes on a dangerous edge as her lips curl into a dark smirk.] And since when does want have anything to do with one's final destination? Do you really think I want to be a twice divorced, psychiatrist who is best known for her unique brand of patient empathy? [Shaking her head, Laura chuckles painfully.]

Bob: I thought you liked being a doctor?

[Releasing a heavy sigh], I do. I like helping people; I like feeling like I'm making a difference. [Facetiously], I like the salary. [Once again turning to Bob, Laura shrugs as her eyes grow bright.] I guess it's just never where I imagined I would end up...I must have the soul of a poet.

Bob: [Leaning in closer, Bob's voice lowers to a conspiratorial tone.] Then how'd you end up being a doctor?

[Laughs lightly], Same way most of us do I suppose...Made the wise choice, the rational choice...followed my head instead of my heart...[With a sad smile, Laura's eyes grow distant.] But you never forget your first love.

Bob: And just how did you come across this first love?

[Blinking owlishly, his question slowly registers.] Hmm...oh, Michael Joseph Russell...[Bob's only reply is a slightly confused smile that compels Laura to continue.] He had blond hair and these big brown doe eyes that could pierce you to the very core of your soul. [Closing her eyes, she pauses a moment, tilts her head to the side for a fresh vantage and continues in a small voice.] And this closed, crooked little smile...oh, and dimples--big dimples. [Resting her chin on her hand, her teary eyes once again focus on Bob.] I don't know how I did it, but somehow I managed to convince him to tryout for the Senior production of Romeo and Juliet...I'll never forget the scarlet rose that burned across his face the first time he had to put on those tights--my Romeo!

Bob: [Laura's rich laughter radiates through Bob.] Let me guess...[eyeing her speculatively], Juliet?

Hardly...try Juliet's nurse.

Bob: [Chuckling], And after all that hard work...[Laura smiles in silent reply.] So why aren't you Mrs. Michael Joseph Russell today?

[With a tiny shrug, Laura’s eyes harden and her expression grows unreadable.] Oh, life rarely follow the path of childhood dreams...[Bob eyes her questioningly.] I went away to college; he joined the Army...His platoon was among the first ground troops sent to Vietnam...I used to live for his letters--curl up in bed and night and read them over and over and over again until I had every word committed to memory. I still remember his last letter: "As time goes by, I find no need to cry, Though fate has frowned upon my upturned face, And happiness has mostly passed my by, I still await the hand of saving grace...I'm still a man though I'm badly bent, I'll hope and strive until my life is spent." Arrived two weeks after his death...[Rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, Laura takes a deep breath. With a sad smile her red-rimmed eyes rise to meet Bob's.] And the local paper used that damned Romeo & Juliet picture out of it's files for his obituary...[With unseeing eyes Laura stares out at the water, releases a black chuckle.] He would have hated that. [Shifting], Anyway, war has a way of playing Hell on our dreams...And sometimes I can't help but think the lady was right when she said, "If I had my life to live over, I would never dream" 'cause there are days it just doesn't pay.

Bob: Yeah, but then there are days that it does pay...like the day your children were born. [Laura nods as the corner of her eyes crinkle up and a luminous smile spreads across her face.]

[Oops! Almost forgot to give credit where credit is due...the first poem is, well, obvious. But the second, "My Plight" by Norman McDaniel, actually comes from a collection of poetry, From Both Sides Now, penned by Vietnam vets.]
confessed by Laura at 11:49 PM