Going to the Chapel

The music is still playing. I’m still cooking. You’re imagining this.

I walk into the chapel and look around. It’s familiar to me, but you haven’t seen it before. I’m focused on protecting my work, but I want to make sure you’re comfortable, too.

You assure me that you’re fine, and go deeper in, alone, and watch the scene unfold …

“I’d like for you to get my items back for me,” Karin said with speed.

“Yes,” I added. “If you could please get back any proprietary material of mine from Karin, I would greatly appreciate it.”

The Bishop cut her eyes between us.

“I take it the trip did not go well,” she ventured.

At first, I said nothing. I was about to speak when …

“It was horrible,” Karin spat. “The whole trip was one obnoxious nightmare after another. I’ve never been so fed up with another human being in my life. I was uncomfortable throughout and am just glad it is over.”

The Bishop nodded slowly and turned her head to me, “You are not obligated to provide me any information, but if you would like to speak your heart, I would hear it.”

“I agree, though I have a different perspective. From my point of view, I was being civil and polite throughout. True, I was friendly at times because I thought we were getting to know and like one another. Karin has made it abundantly clear that this is not the case, and that I misinterpreted the whole thing. John, who seemed to be happy go lucky and along for the ride, apparently has joined in her point of view, though it was clear to me until the events of last Thursday that we were all having a good time …”

“That’s not true,” Karin interjected.

I turned to her and said, “May I please finish? I didn’t interrupt you.”

She lowered her head and stopped talking but her eyes were still blaring loudly.

“As I was saying, it was clear to me that we were all having a good time. Karin had been drinking—in my opinion a bit too much—and that’s when a lot of this began. She seemed to take offense at everything that was said, though her anger seemed to be mostly directed at Michel. We asked him to ride in the bed of the truck—probably not the safest decision, but that’s what happened—which he’d eagerly agreed to do.

“Again, everything seemed cordial and fine, friendly even on the drive back. Karin was in the passenger side—which is on the opposite side from what I am used to—so I would get a little nervous sometimes thinking that she was driving. John was driving, and was being generally pleasant, chiming in only with occasional jokes.

“So the tension began to swell when I pointed out that Karin had a song that I liked playing on the radio. She became bombastic, yelling at me about how she hated the song and had simply had enough of me. I was shocked and confused. I apologized, having not seen this coming in any way, and I told her so. That’s when she laid into me about how I should have seen this coming, that it had been building all week, all throughout the trip, beginning with what she called the ridiculous motivations of my characters …”

“In your story materials?” the Bishop asked.

“Yes, Bishop, more specifically in my game materials which feature characters. The character assigned to Karin was apparently not to her liking artistically, which would have been fine by me. I would have loved to collaborate with her on the character. Instead, though, she pretended to like the character and then harbored this animosity, which she unleashed upon me on the drive back.

“John joined in at this point, Bishop, and began to confirm everything that Karin was saying. So now I feel not only surprised but outright ambushed and overwhelmed by numbers. Granted, John did not have much to say and did not add much—and I still maintain that he said anything at all only because he’s carrying feelings for Karin—but that’s neither here nor there.

“John did, however, lead Karin to the central point of contention being the events of last Thursday, when we made a stop at a local comic book store. It was part of our circuit, though not a particularly noteworthy site. In reviewing one of the books there, I made some remark about how I wasn’t sure why I felt about one of the characters the way I did. I barely have any recollection of this event, Bishop, but this apparently is the crux of her displeasure with me. For contained within my musings about this character somehow lies the key to my complete moral degeneration and the foundation of my wickedness of character.”

“And your request?” the Bishop asked.

“I would simply like my materials returned, knowing that they are not to her satisfaction, so that I may destroy them and dissolve my relationship with this matter completely.”

The Bishop nodded, deep lines in her face spreading slightly around the mouth as she spoke kindly, “Karin, you will be accepted into the Temple, but you will not lead.”

She turned her head to me, “I will see that your materials are returned to you as you have requested. Thank you for talking with me about this event, and may God go with you.”

I bowed to the Bishop and turned past the glare of Karin, walking with a renewed purpose and a cleared conscience. I’d won the victory I’d sought, by I also knew I’d made an enemy that day.

You wonder if I hooked up with Karin on that trip, but before you can pursue it further, I pop out of the kitchen and say, Food’s ready!

Play procedures:

• Get a notebook or open up a new document on your computer or phone. I prefer a notebook, but you do you, boo.
• Reread the book up to this point. If that feels like too much, just reread the scene in the chapel above. When you reread it—and this is important, babe, so listen, okay—read it with your heart more than your head. Open yourself to the experience of both what’s happening in the work—like you are really there in it— and what is happening inside of you as you do this. Do not judge what you experience; or, do if you must, but do not judge the act of judging.
• Write down your experience and think about what you might want to do next in the story.

Part 1 of Day 4 of National Novel Writing Month 2022 and The Teresa Van Santāna Literary-Somatic Experience