“My Boy Builds Coffins” by Florence + the Machine from Lungs
Cocktail party. Ms. Martine has a visibly anxious to get away Natalie trapped in a corner of the room.
MS. MARTINE (sounding a bit annoyed)
I just don’t think you have an appreciation for what I’m saying.
NATALIE (equally, if not more, annoyed)
No, no. I certainly get it.
Yes, job security. Job security and the ability to name a price. I got it.
Exactly right. And my boy, my Jerry has it. Sure, there are boom and bust times…sometimes a few weeks’ll go by without customers. But the customers—
Are guaranteed to come eventually. Like I said, I understand.
Guaranteed! Inevitably. A fact of life, it is. Feast and famine, but when it is feast…well, you’d have to be a special kind of impractical not to be able to sock some away for the slow times.
I suppose so.
MS. MARTINE (almost shocked)
You suppose? You sup-POSE?! Believe me, I know.
So you say you get it. What’s the problem then?
I’ve never met him, for one.
Which is what I’ve been saying. Let him take you out. Some place nice. I know he’d love to. I mean…look at you. Smart as a whip I hear and…well, I’m not the take to speak of someone else’s body, but…everything seems top of the line. Very high, proud, and tight. I don’t imagine you get a lot of guys looking away when you walk by.
Ms. Martine, please, this is—
MS. MARTINE (giggling)
Oh come on now. It’s just us gals. It’s not like I don’t know what men think about it, now is it?
Re—regardless. Can we just…not, please?
Of course, of course. But a lady needn’t be ashamed that she has the best set on the block. Nothing wrong with a little accurate assessment of one’s physical charms, you know.
So, when should I have Jerry call you?
Ms. Martine, please—
What?! You get it about the job security and I’m not saying you have to marry him after the first date. Why not?
NATALIE (pausing, shrugging, getting a little quieter)
Well, it is all a bit morbid, isn’t it?
Oh, honestly, dear, how reductive.
Look, I’m sorry, but it is. He doesn’t make anything else, even as a hobby. Not tables or chairs or jewelry boxes. Just coffins! All the time! I don’t think he has a job, I think he has an obsession there’s a market for!
My goodness. That’s a bit rude, now isn’t it. A simple “no thanks,” would’ve sufficed. I mean, honestly. Today’s youth.
NATALIE (storming off)
Whatever! I’m going to get cremated anyway.
MS. MARTINE (horrified)
Don’t you…don’t you ever say that!