Pie in the sky
February 21st, 2021
Starring: Bryce (male, 35-45), Hilde (female, 65-70), Local
A weekend morning, 7:05am. The interior of a “famed” local bakery, in a small town off a thoroughly travelled interstate. It’s got a homely, old timey decor, with a simple counter and cash-only register. A glass display case shows the wide array of pies, pastries, and cakes. It smells like a dream. Behind the counter, a hand-written sign that reads “WHEN I’M OUT, I’M OUT.” in large block letters. Hilde stands behind the counter, keeping busy.
Bryce enters, seemingly unable to catch his breath. He walks up the counter.
BRYCE
Hi
One banoffee pie please.
HILDE
I’m out.
Bryce’s face drops precipitously:
BRYCE
No
Nonono what happened to them?!
HILDE
I sold them. That’s what I do with the pies.
BRYCE
But it’s been five—
HILDE
I’m sorry. First come first serve—
BRYCE
I know I know it just—I’m just…
Bryce closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to keep it together. He can’t:
BRYCE
I keep getting FUCKED!
EVERY TURN I’M BENT OVER AND ABSOLUTELY FUCKED!
GOD DAMN IT!
…
…
Sorry
I’m sorry that was...beyond uncouth
That’s not anger towards you it’s towards me—the world
You can deny me service if—
HILDE
Are you alright?
BRYCE
Uh
No. No I am not.
…
I had this plan. My Mom, she and I love this place. I went to college in Houston, and every Fall she would drive me all the way from Tennessee. We’d stop at that gas station, have some banoffee. It was our tradition. A little joy we could share together. She always said it was the sweetest tasting thing in existence.
We haven’t been back in over a decade. My Mom she um—she has ALS.
My brother’s taking care of her in Sacramento. She’s been a fighter, but it’s gotten worse. We’re getting near the end.
I live in Connecticut. My job is crazy busy, I’m far away, I rarely call.
I’ve been a shitty son. When she’s needed me most, I haven’t been there for her.
So I thought...maybe—maybe if I could give her this one thing…it would be sweet.
…
I flew in on a red-eye this morning. I drove two hours in a rental car to make it here by opening. I have a flight to Sacramento that leaves in three hours. If all goes well, she can have it in time for dessert.
I know you said you’re out. I know I’ve been very erratic. But if you could find it in your heart to bake one more, I’d be so so grateful. It would change my life. My Mom’s life.
…
HILDE
You know...I’ve heard just about every kind of story why people need an extra banoffee.
Apocalypse prepping, tuberculosis curing, extraterrestrial peace offering, the president’s coming for dinner.
But yours might be the closest I’ve ever come to believing it.
BRYCE
Wait...I’m not lying.
HILDE
I gotta give it to you. Really almost had me fooled.
BRYCE
This is real, my Mom’s—
Hilde points to the sign:
HILDE
What does it say?
BRYCE
Please—
HILDE
What does it say?
BRYCE
“When I’m out, I’m out.”
HILDE
And I’m out. Like most travesties, there’s not much you or I can do about it.
BRYCE
But you can. You can make me a pie.
HILDE
I can’t.
BRYCE
You can. You’re just choosing not to. You have some ridiculous ethical code—
HILDE
Come on. It’s pie.
It’s a damn good pie. Heaven’s sake I made it myself but...it’s still pie.
It comes in and goes out, and we move on. It don’t last.
…
If your Ma really is sick, my heart goes out to you. You’re trying to do right by her.
But for every moment you spend here, it’s another moment you aren’t there.
Being there. That’s what lasts.
…
BRYCE
I guess I have a flight to catch.
HILDE
Best get going then.
Bryce stares blankly. He’s having a moment. He looks like he might cry.
Hilde stares back, then reaches down and takes an apple pie off the rack. She hacks off a slice and plops it on a paper plate, with a plastic fork. She puts it on the counter.
HILDE
For the road.
...
Promise it’s just as good.
Bryce stares at the piece of pie. He takes it, then tries a little. It makes him smile, uncontrollably. He gives one last nod to Hilde and walks out the store, into the morning.
A moment later, Local sticks their head into the shop:
LOCAL
Banoffee?
Hilde shakes her head. Local frowns, nods, and turns back around.
Hilde looks down at all her other fresh baked goods. She looks up at the rule, stated plainly on her sign. She thinks about breaking it.