Alison’s story: (Alison is played by British actress Ruth Wilson. Her American accent is better than McNulty’s.)
It’s the saddest day in the history of sad days in my sad life. My little boy, four years old, would’ve had his birthday today. I woke up in my family beach house — shabby, made with foraged wood from shipwrecks, but with great light — and I made love with my husband Cole (Joshua Jackson, familiar to all women of a certain age as Pacey from Dawson’s Creek, among other things). He has a great butt. We’ve done it over a thousand times, he noted. It was intimate but I didn’t feel anything. The only feeling I had in my heart was for my little boy, gone for a year. Maybe the ocean took him.
The only thing that heals my pain is a symbolic and melancholic outdoor shower shower. I like to sit on the wood slats and let the water just wash over me, like an ablution. But I have to go to my stupid job.
I’ve been at the Montauk diner for years. Since I was sixteen. I wore my uniform dress, which hit my knees, and pulled my hair back, like every waitress worth her salt. I ignored the boss, I talked with my friend, I tried to be a hero and take the six-top waiting at the door. A handsome guy in a fancy green button-down and his four mewling kids, including a ridiculous teen girl with Lolita glasses. His wife looked tired. Their little girl started to choke. He grabbed her and put her upside down — what an idiot! — and I thumped her back so that the marble got dislodged. Once that happened, I’m pretty sure the father wanted to marry me. He introduced himself to me in the bathroom. Noah. Probably thinks I’m more authentic than whoever he meets out in Brooklyn.
But the thing is, I am so fucking depressed. Sometimes I ride my bike out to the ocean to see the angry waves. Sometimes I see the world like I’m looking through a tilt-shift camera lens. Sometimes I read Peter Pan to my dead child’s grave, and sometimes I’m late to stupid Cole’s stupid constant gigantic family dinners. I have to be so many people all of the time.
My sister-in-law read my Tarot and according to her, Lucifer is coming. It’s the card of temptation. I walked down to the bonfire at the beach, shawl wrapped around my shoulders. There he was. Noah. Cole was busy talking to some blonde at the bonfire. Noah wanted to smoke French cigarettes. He wanted to talk to me. He offered to walk me home.
I didn’t know how I felt. He seemed rich. When I showed him my outdoor shower, he enthused over it like he’d never seen a shower before. He said goodbye, going in for my face in a weird way. He left.
Cole returned. That blonde gave him a ride. We fought, we always fight since our baby died. “It hurts so much,” I said. He started to kiss me, he took me over to the hood of the car. I just wanted to feel something. I was starting to feel something. I heard a rustling beyond the driveway; it was Noah, looking at me creepily. I still had the first orgasm I’d had in while. It felt like freedom. Like an outdoor shower —
And a quick cut to the police interrogation room. Alison has shorter hair, a bob, and is wondering if she can leave, so she can “pick up her kid.” Either time has passed, or this story is not what it seems to be.
I can’t wait to see where it goes.