(1) THE EAVESDROPPER IN MY KITCHEN

Reply to Newton High School classmate Aura Kruger

June 22, 2010
Dear Aura,

      No, I didn’t really keep a diary, except for our boat’s Log, in which I recorded adventures as they happened.  Some of them wound up as articles in Yachting and Motor Boating.  Letters, first to my mother, then to grown-up Kathie, were the basis of articles about our flying hobby, published in flying magazines.  They also appeared, greatly condensed, in my memoir, Take My Ex-Husband, Please—But Not Too Far, published by Little, Brown in 1991.  Without the blessing of your photographic memory, I relied on letters to keep track of events in my life.  Always kept a rough draft or a carbon copy in the early days.  Now a computer makes a journalist’s hobby a lot simpler.

       Your daughter Jo kindly told me how to contact Michael Mitchell, your dramaturgist.  Kathie and I wrote a play called The Tempestuous Triangle, which received a couple of encouraging responses from play publishers.*  The lover (Michael corrected me for referring to him as my sweetheart, saying I should call a lover a lover) whom I met at Parents Without Partners during the throes of separation and divorce, was named Rob in the play.  The first few weeks after we started dating, I jotted down his droll remarks, recalling them as best I could.  I remarked to Kathie that it was too bad I didn’t have a far-away family member I could write to about this funny man.  She said she had a spare tape-recorder, and from then on, the machine was an eavesdropper in my kitchen

Excerpt from synopsis of play:

      Not only were their billings and cooings and constant laughter audible on the tapes, but also their arguments about sex, the double standard, feminism, homosexuality, transvestistm, the new morality, and politics.  Rob was a hawk, she was a dove.  Her biases were Darwin yes, God maybe, Nixon no.  His were the opposite.  He was adamant about one thing:  he wanted to keep seeing Julie no matter how misguided her thinking.

      I spent two years in my early 80s transcribing the 84 tapes, then reducing the thousand pages to 400.  Kathie condensed the 400 to around 150 pages of dialogue, still too long for a play.  I received a complimentary rejection from the editor of a play publisher,* who gave me the names of four other publishers, but to no avail. This is where dramaturgist Michael comes in.  He has already made some excellent suggestions, which I will start incorporating as soon as I finish this letter.  (We just had a power outage that lasted for two hours.  Fortunately I had saved the first half of my response to you.   This is one way that writing on paper has an advantage over e-mails—you don’t lose the letter when there’s a blackout)

      Your bi-weekly outing to participate in a book discussion group sounds like the one I belonged to when I took an Oriental Brush course.  We students and our teacher used to get together for lunch and gift-giving whenever one of us had a birthday.  Nowadays my outings are for duplicate bridge.  My partner and I came in first yesterday, ahead of a bridge teacher and his expert partner.  Activities like this are good exercise for aging brains, Aura, and you outdo me in that department. 

      Your letter came in an envelope so fortified with invisible tape that I spent a very long time trying to get at the contents, turning it over and over, searching for a vulnerable spot.  Finally found a tiny opening and pried my way into Kruger’s Fort Knox.  It was well worth the effort, dear friend, but next time, please make the envelope a little easier to open.  Which reminds me: one of my children used to call Milk of Magnesia "Milk’ll Make It Easier."  With much love. . . . 
February 11, 2011

Dear Aura,

       I carry the manuscript of your book around with me in my car.  If I get stuck in traffic, I can turn to any page and find something agreeably readable.  And of course I always bring a book to doctors’ appointments.  I can imagine how great it makes you feel to hear that professionals like your  MD's are interested in your writings.

       Right now I’m reading a biography of P. G. Wodehouse, called Simply Wodehouse.  I’ve read every other biographer’s take on one of my favorite authors and have read all of Pelham Grenville’s (Wodehouse's real name) books at least twice over the years.  The prologue to Rescuing the Old Buzzard features Jeeves, Jr., my subliminal assistant, inherited from Mother’s Jeeves.

       In short, life is good at almost 90.  You have often reminded me that you’re a year younger than I, despite our being in the same class at Newton High.  Now I’ll remind you that I’m the first to become a nonagenarian.  Never thought I’d enjoy it so much. . . .                     

*
                                       

(2) A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE STILL OFFENDED BY THE F-WORD.

To: kathieMM [mailto:kkmalley@comcast.net]
Sent: Friday, February 21, 2014 4:20 PM
Subject: OUR PLAY
      I’VE ADDED WEYMOUTHPORT'S FUNCTION ROOM AND THE SOUTH SHORE COUNTRY CLUB TO THE VENUES WHERE OUR PLAY HAS BEEN PERFORMED.  I DELETED ALL THE PRESUMPTUOUS PARENTHETICAL PAUSES (“PAUSE FOR LAUGHTER FROM AUDIENCE.” (WE WISH.)
      IS IT SENDABLE NOW? DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD GO AHEAD AND USED THE WORD FUCKING INSTEAD OF THE EUPHEMISM EFFING, WHICH SOUNDS RATHER QUAINT THESE DAYS. I DID CHANGE IT BUT WILL CHANGE BACK IF YOU SO ADVISE.
LOVE,
MOM
From: kathieMM [mailto:kkmalley@comcast.net] 

Sent: Friday, February 21, 2014 5:36 PM
To: 'Barbara Malley
Subject: RE: OUR PLAY

      I  WOULD STAY WITH EFFING RATHER THAN THE MORE NOTORIOUS WORD.  A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE STILL OFFENDED BY THE F WORD.
     THE OTHER THING I THINK YOU SHOULD DO IS CUT THE MATERIAL ABOUT THE SETTING DOWN TO ABOUT NOTHING.  THAT’S NOT THE MATERIAL THAT WILL PIQUE AN EDITOR'S INTEREST.  
LOVE
KK

From: Barbara Malley (mom) [mailto:mommalley@comcast.net] 

Sent: Friday, February 21, 2014 9:41 PM
To: kkmalley@comcast.net
Subject: RE: OUR PLAY

     ALAS, I FIND WE ALREADY SUBMITTED OUR PLAY TO RYAN HARBAGE AT LITTLE, BROWN NINE YEARS AGO.  SORRY TO TAKE SO MUCH OF YOUR SCANT SPARE TIME,  SO SCANT YOU DON’T HAVE TIME TO PUT A COMMA AFTER LOVE.
LOVE,
MOM

 Note to visitors:  If any of you can refer us to a play publisher, Kathie and I would be grateful. bbm

(ACT ONE) LIKE COUNTLESS OTHER WIVES I FOUND A LETTER.

                    

                       THE TEMPESTUOUS TRIANGLE 
                                              by                                                                                     Barbara Beyer Malley
                                           and
                         Dr. Kathleen Malley-Morrison

  

Reminiscing Julie (rising from chair she will occupy stage left throughout the play) 

Welcome, everyone.  I’d like to give you a preview of this play, which takes place in the 90s and involves 4 characters. 

Charles Griffeth is a male chauvinist 56-year-old high liver, unfaithful to his wife for years, sees no reason why he shouldn’t have his cake and eat it too.  He’s the dynamic owner of vacation homes, boats, and planes.

Rob Brennan is a boyish 53-year-old widower whom Julie met at Parents Without Partners.  As a bank teller, he barely makes ends meet for himself and his two daughters.  Conservative, inhibited, finicky, funny, he adores Julie no matter how misguided her thinking.

Julie Griffeth, at 51, is well-preserved  (Charles’s term) and recently separated.  She keeps herself busy taking various courses and volunteers every Saturday at The Samaritans. Unconventional, intensely liberal, Julie adores Rob, despite his flawed views, most of which are the opposite of hers. Then there's me, a decade later, your guide in this tangled web. As Reminiscing Julie, I'll be commentating on what happened in the past, introducing new scenes, and filling in the blanks when the characters can't speak for themselves.

Okay, let’s get started.  Only two years before Charles and I separated, we had a jesting conversation about divorce, inspired by a magazine article titled “Should You Remarry a Man You’ve Divorced?” Dan Chadwick, Charles’s lawyer and best friend, always maintained that once a couple divorces, they don’t want any part of each other.  Charles, intrigued, envisioned a different scenario. I clearly recall our banter over dinner at the Esquire Grill.

(Reminiscing Julie sighs, sits down. Charles and Young Julie enter from stage right.)

Charles (thoughtfully):  What I would do is come to see you a couple of times a week.  No evil intentions, you understand—this would be just a friendly, platonic visit.

Julie:  You’d better call first.  I might be out. 

Charles:  I’d bring you a little present of some kind:  flowers, perfume, candy—”

Julie:  Just say money and I’ll make a point of staying home.

Charles:  I’d probably bring a clean shirt and socks so I could shower and change . . .

Julie:  Not in my bathroom, you don’t.  That sounds entirely too domestic to me.

Charles:  All right, I’d go to my apartment and freshen up there—but you understand we’d lose a lot of time.

Julie:  You should’ve thought of that before the divorce, dum-dum.

Charles:  Okay, so you open the door and there I am.  Let’s see, what do you do?  We’re civilized people, you’d probably lean over and give me a little kiss on the cheek.

Julie:  Not me! 

Charles:  Well, what would you do—shake hands?

Julie:  I’d take the present, and say, “You know I don’t eat candy!”

Charles (undaunted)):  Then we’d sit down and have a friendly little vodka martini . . .

Julie:  I hope you brought your own.  I’ve turned the bar into a Health Nook.

Charles:  I’d ask how the kids were—

Julie:  You should know.  You’ve got `em!

Charles:  --and how your mother was doing.

Julie:  She’s making good money painting.  We certainly can’t get along on your alimony.

Charles (still undaunted):  Then I’d say, `Where would you like to go to dinner—The Red Coach?   Fox and Hounds?  The Cabin?

Julie (sounding bored):  Oh, these decisions!

Charles (hanging in there): All right, I’d sweep you off your feet and order a candlelit table for two at Joanne’s Kitchen—

Julie (softening):  You’re reaching me—

Charles:  Mildred would say,  “Mr. and Mrs. Griffeth, we haven’t seen you in a long time!

Julie:  You’d pull out my chair and help with my coat—

Charles:  I’d play `our song’ on the jukebox—

Julie (dreamily):  “Too Young.”

Charles (perking up and singing the first line):  “They tried to tell us we’re too young.”

Julie (taking Charles’s hand and gazing into his eyes):  And then I’d say, “Let’s go home and pretend we’re married again.”

(Julie and Charles exit briefly stage right.)

Reminiscing Julie: Although I had loved Charles ever since we met when I was seventeen, his heavy weekend drinking was a trial during our 30 years of marriage. I always consoled myself with the thought that at least he wasn’t cheating like so many men in our town.  Then, like countless other wives, I found a letter.  I had been as naïve as any other last-to-know wife.  Stunned by my husband’s betrayal, I was haunted by questions:  Who?  Where? When?  How long?

     I asked for a trial separation, then discovered that being single again wasn’t all bad.  I was free to explore new worlds, including the world evolving inside my head.  I signed up for a seminar for recently divorced men and women and contacted Parents Without Partners.  I learned they excluded people whose children were over eighteen—female people, that is.  Males, with or without children, were welcome as long as they weren’t comatose.  I argued and persisted until finally I was steered toward a branch that accepted me despite the advanced ages of my progeny.  Could I help it if I'd been a child bride?

     The first social event I attended was a cookout at some woman's house.  We strangers milled around in her rumpus room, smiling brightly at each other, having nothing in common except our unhappiness.  After awhile I noticed we’d been joined by a tall man with gray hair and glasses. "Well, here's another one," I thought, glancing at him casually.  

(Rob moves from stage right to stand next to Reminiscing Julie.)

Rob (to audience):  She looked at me.

Reminiscing Julie:  We had hardly exchanged names and a word or two when a debonair individual with dark, slicked‑back hair asked me to dance.  "Let's get away from this crowd," he murmured in my ear, tangoing me out the door. He drew together a couple of patio chairs, and began explaining why I was so fortunate to have met him.  I grew restless immediately. I had the weird but insistent feeling that I was being unfaithful to Rob.  I stood up, told my smooth‑talking companion that I was going back to the party, and left. 
Rob (to audience):  Of course I was worrying. How did I know she’d ever come back?

Reminiscing Julie:  Rob was waiting for me.  He appeared far from prepossessing, but that was because I didn't know him yet.  When you're not in love, you can be quite blind.  As weeks went by and my vision cleared, Rob began to look more and more like Paul Newman.  Paul Newman with a sense of humor was irresistible.  

Rob  (to audience): The night I met her, I talked to myself out loud all the way home.  I had to talk to someone. “She should be with me,” I’m saying.  “Why am I not driving her home?  I was sure I’d be driving her home.”  

(Rob returns to stage right, picks up a portable phone.  Julie enters from stage left, sits down on desk chair near Reminiscing Julie.)
Rob (to audience): The minute I got home, I couldn’t wait to call her, although I wasn’t sure what I would say.  (He lifts phone and dials, says “Ring, ring.”)  

(Julie picks up her phone.)

Younger Julie:  Hello?  (Pause.) Hello?  (Pause.) Hello? Anybody there?

Rob: (tentatively) Hello?

Younger Julie: Is that you, Rob? Why didn't you speak up? I thought—

Rob: I figured you wouldn't be home yet and started to hang up.  Then I decided to wait for one more ring.

Younger Julie: I’m glad you did.  I thought you were a sex maniac."

Rob: I'll do my best.

Reminiscing Julie: Affable, easy-going, Rob was anything but a sex maniac. We did a lot of passionate kissing, but not a word was said about B E D. At last he uttered that beautiful three-letter word, but I didn’t want to seem too easy. I murmured, “We probably should wait until we know each other better.” 

(Looks at audience) What a mistake that was!  Reminiscing Julie sits. Younger Julie stands and moves to stage right, beside Rob.

Rob (to audience):  I thought she’d give me some kind of signal when she decided we knew each other well enough.  Finally, one night I was at the door, kissing her goodnight, and radiating enough heat to melt an igloo, when she said the magic words.  “Have you got five minutes?” It was the easiest question she’d ever asked me.

Julie:  It felt so right for us to be together. I’m not religious, but it really seemed like fate that I managed to get to that particular party at that particular time. Doesn’t it seem like fate to you?

Rob:  Actually, I don't believe in things like predestination.  Of course I could be wrong, and when the time comes, if I find myself in Heaven, I'll just come right out and admit it.  (Looks at audience .)
I'll say, “You sure had me fooled, Your Bigness."

(Rob exits, stage right.  Charles enters from stage right and begins pacing up and down.) 

Charles: Julie, we need to have a serious talk about this trial separation. It isn’t working out.

Julie:  Okay, but not for long.  I’m expecting Rob in half an hour. 

Charles:  That guy you met at Parents Without Partners?  I hear he’s a bank teller.  What are you doing with an effing marshmallow like that?

Julie (Fires up immediately):  The same thing you were doing on your effing business trips!  Your secret double life!   How do you think it made me feel when you’d walk into the house with that smirk on your face, that effing guilty smile of yours?

Charles (sitting down beside Julie, and trying to take her hand):  I’m truly sorry I hurt you, Julie.  I want you back in my life.  Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive and forget like other wives? 

Julie (snatches her hand away, jumps up, and starts pacing): Screw the other wives! I need to know exactly what the hell I’m supposed to be forgiving! You clammed up and never answered a single one of my questions.  Tell me the truth for once in your life!  How long did this affair go on?  Were there others I don't know about?

Charles: Only a few. (Julie stops pacing and gasps loudly with a sharp intake of breath.) None of them meant a damn to me, Julie, honest to God.   The affair . . .was a long time.

Julie (Staring accusingly at Charles while she paces):  How many years is a long time?  How many years was I trying to have a good marriage, while you were getting drunk as a skunk every weekend and being arrogant and hostile and not remembering the next day how the evening ended.  Not remembering whether I’d been kind and patient, which I tried to be because I knew you weren’t yourself.  Always assuming we’d probably had a fight, and being cold to me for hours because you didn’t know how things stood.  Week after week, month after month.  And was your girlfriend seeing any of that?  No.  Did she see you so drunk at 3 a.m. that you fell into bed unconscious, your snoring rattling the rafters and making sleep impossible for me?  No! While she was getting the debonair, charming Charles, the wining, dining, romancing and the I-love-yous, I was getting all the SHIT.

Charles:  I swear I’ve always loved you, Julie.  You’re the only one I’ve ever loved or ever will love.

Julie (still pacing, voice rising to a shrewish pitch):  Did you tell her that?  Or did you tell her your wife was a shrew and a nag, she was no good in bed, she was a slob, or she got fat?  What excuses did you invent for justifying your cheating?  Married men always come up with excuses like that!

Charles:  For what it’s worth, I’m finally able to understand what you went through.  I never was able to feel your unhappiness before. 

Julie:  “I felt worse because I didn’t deserve it.  I had no one!. You had your business, your squash, your trips, your golf, your girlfriends, you had all those things, but my whole life was you.

Charles:  You’re right. You got a raw deal.   Somehow I’m going to make it up to you.  We have a lot of good years ahead of us. (Wistfully) Come on, Julie, let’s grow old together.

 (Phone rings.  Julie picks it up, says, “Hi, Rob. Uh huh, me too.” Bursts out laughing at something Rob says, “Okay, see you shortly if not sooner,” and hangs up, smiling at Charles, her anger dissipated.)

Julie: You’d better go now.  (She walks with him to the door.)  Charles, I hope you’ll find someone else to love.  I really do.

Charles:  You might as well ask me to amputate one of my arms. 

(Charles exits stage right)    .

Reminiscing Julie:  So, I had a quandary. I found myself feeling sorry for Charles and wanting him to be happy but not with me as his wife.  I loved Rob and his offbeat sense of humor, but I quickly learned that my notion of fun was his notion of folly. Persuading him to share a bowl of pot-laced pudding was like asking him to eat caterpillars. Reminiscing Julie sits.

(Rob enters from stage right. He and younger Julie pull up their chairs to the table, which is set up with a couple of small dishes and spoons. They sit on either side of the table but still primarily facing the audience.)

Julie:  Rob, why aren’t you eating your pudding?

Rob:  Because it doesn’t look edible. What's this little wormy thing?  (Rob squeamishly picks something out of the pudding and holds it up. 

Julie:  It's probably something good, Rob. 

Rob:  Eugh!  What’s in here? 

Julie:  Just pudding, peanuts, and pot.  (She eats some of her pudding.) By quarter of ten we should be in outer space.

(Rob hums a few bars of "It's quarter to ten.")

Julie:  Do you want some cream on your pudding?

Rob:  I don't even want the pudding.  How much pot is in here? 

Julie:  About a cigarette and a half.

Rob:  How much did this stuff cost? 

Julie:  Twenty dollars an ounce, forty altogether.

Rob:  (Aghast.)  You paid forty dollars for these twigs?  Holy shit!

Julie:  So don’t waste your pudding, it's valuable. Where’s your sense of adventure?

Rob:  I try to leave it at home when I come here. (beat)  Is this a recipe for pot or for pudding?  Why are the nuts in there?

Julie:  This was supposed to be Butterscotch Banana Delight, but I didn't have any bananas, so I put in the peanuts.  Then you're supposed to fold in whipped cream, but I didn't have any whipped cream. (Rob stands up and walks toward stage right. Julie raises voice several decibels.) ROB, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

Rob:  What are you hollerin' for!  I wasn't going far.  There's a movie I want to see on TV.

Julie:  Eat your pudding and then you can see it.

Rob:  Gee.  Fifty‑three years old and I gotta eat my pudding before I can watch television.   (Cautiously samples a tiny bit of pudding.)  I'm glad I’ve never been able to throw up.  This is something I wouldn't want to taste a second time.
(To be continued)

(ACT TWO) EVERYONE WAS MOVING AWAY FROM ME AS IF I HAD A DISEASE.

Attention visitors:  I have lost the place where I need to scroll down to Act Three.  I'll shut down this computer and start over. bbm

Julie:  Rob, do you remember meeting Eliza Davis at the Chadwicks?  I got a phone call from her this morning. She invited me to her cookout next Sunday. And I don’t want to go without you.

Rob:  Well, if you want to go, and you don’t want to go without me, it looks like I’m going.  If I know you.

Julie:  Now, just a minute, Rob. 

Rob:  Now, just a minute, Rob.  If I know me, I’m a cinch. 

Julie:  That’s better.  Don’t give me that ball-and-chain routine.  I had that for thirty years.

Rob:  If you want to go with me to the cookout, that’s it.  We’ll go. (pause.) What will I wear?

Julie:  Charles says he's going to wear slacks and a shirt.

Rob:  That's what I'll wear then.  If it’s good enough for Charles . . . (double take.) What the hell has Charles got to do with it?

Julie:  He’ll be there. He says he’ll shake hands with you, of course.  But he’ll have a poisoned pin in his.

Rob:  (looking at audience) I’ll wear gloves. (pause)  Hey, you look really nice sitting beside that window.  Your skin shines . . . Julie.  Julie.  I’d like to get married to that skin.

Julie:  That’s a scary idea. (Quotes imaginary headline to audience.) “Man marries skin, dumps woman.”

Rob exits stage right. Charles enters from stage right, joins Julie, and starts pacing.

Charles: I’m so sick of this dating business.  Marsha calls and says, “Come on over and have a nice dinner,” sounding so innocent.  So I go over and there’s wine and candlelight and it’s all very pleasant.  Then she mentions the tennis club opening this weekend, and it’s clear the whole thing is a setup.

Julie:  Marsha is the one you saw for a while before you met Claire?

Charles:  Yeah, I still see her occasionally.  I feel sorry for her.  So I say, “All right, let’s go to the party.”  Then I see Claire and she says, “Of course we’re going to the tennis opening,” and I don’t know what to do.  I can’t lie because she’ll hear about it later.  I feel like going to Antarctica so I won't have to face these problems. 

Julie:  Claire is currently your favorite, right?  I’m betting she’s a blonde. 

Charles:  Right.  She’s a well-preserved blonde with a great-looking pair of false eyelashes.  They have a way of falling off in all the excitement.  We spend a lot of time crawling around in bed, frantically looking for them.

Julie:  Well, as long as they don’t go crawling around looking for you.  When Claire isn’t available, why don’t you try your luck at one of those singles cocktail lounges?  Somewhere there must be a lady who can keep her eyelashes on no matter how excited she gets.

Charles:  No way.  For every woman there, there’s at least twenty males vying for her attention.  How can a man in his fifties cope with all that competition? 

Julie:  Maybe you should try a regular bar.

Charles:  I tried that a few nights ago in Quincy. I ordered a drink, looked around, and saw everyone moving away from me as if I had a disease.  Then I noticed they were all male.  It was a gay bar.  See what I mean?  I’m a walking disaster without you. The only real solution is for you to come back to me.

Julie:  The trouble is, you’re too dependent on Claire.  She’s dating other guys.  You should be dating other women, instead of turning to me every time you’re lonely.

Charles:  I can’t find any other women I like.

Julie:  You found that Sheila you met in Pelican Shores.

Charles (still pacing):  I was never serious about her. 

Julie:  Then how come you invited her to stay with you for a trial engagement?

Charles:  She thought she wanted to get married.  I just wanted her to find out for herself what a mistake she’d be making if she married me.

Julie:  Charles, I never realized how truly noble and self-sacrificing you are.

Charles (Stops pacing for a minute and crows):  I’m a marvelous person!   (pause) Can I ask you a question?  How often is it with you and Rob? (Startled, Julie gapes at audience.)

Julie (hesitantly):  Well, it’s—uh—regularly. Rob is a very affectionate person.  I would like the closeness and affection even if all we did was cuddle.  You always used to say, “You know what cuddling leads to.”

Charles:  That hurts.

Julie:  You shouldn’t have asked the question.  Did you think I had fallen for a eunuch?

Charles:  I hoped so.

Julie:  Cuddling would have been enough for me when we were together, only you stopped giving me even that much attention.  In fact, when we passed each other in the hall, you would shrink away from me as if you couldn’t stand to be that close. That bewildered me.  I felt like a leper.

Charles:  It bewilders me.  If I did that, it had to be a case of temporary insanity.  You should have had me committed.  (Sits down beside Julie.)  Julie, I have a proposition for you.  If you’ll come back to me, you can do anything you like.  We’ll travel, the way you always wanted to.  Don’t answer right away.  Think about it. 

Julie:  I’m sorry, Charles, I’m not interested in any propositions.  I’m loving my independence.  I’m already planning to take a trip next fall.

Charles:  With Rob?

Julie:  No, with Eliza Davis.  When she heard I’d never been to Disney Land, she said let’s go. 

Charles: Cancel Eliza and I’ll fly you there tomorrow.

Julie: Sorry, Charles. I just can’t do that.

Charles:  All right, how about flying over to the Island with me some day next week?

Julie:  Okay, that would be fun.

Charles:  Will you please think about what I’ve been saying?  Think about the happy times?

Julie (Gives Charles a hug, as he exits stage right.):  Yes, dear, we did have a lot of happy times. 

Reminiscing Julie:  There had indeed been many happy times with Charles when we weren’t caught up in the wild parties he loved and I loathed, but now my happiest times were definitely with Rob. For the first time in years I had a chance to relax on weekends and enjoy my freedom and realize how little interest I had in being a wife again.

 (Rob enters stage right and starts pacing in the ditch Charles left in Julie’s carpet.)

Rob:  Julie, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about us.  I keep thinking I'd like to know, just for myself, that we were actually married. Then I’d have something nobody can take away from me . . like that darn plumber you used to date.

Julie: The plumber?  I called it off with the plumber after the night I met you.  Let’s sit down and talk about this. (They sit.)  I like the idea of marriage, Rob.  I love the idea of it.  But getting married seems to change people in ways that aren't good.  We'd both feel different. We'd feel more like telling each other what to do, trying to control each other.  Once you sign that piece of paper . . .

Rob:  I wouldn't sign anything.  No, no, I'd have the ceremony unsigned.   I wouldn't insist that you sign anything.

Julie:  But someday you might meet somebody you liked more than me. You'd go off with a broad half your age and leave me sitting in my rocking chair, reminiscing about my Rob and his kisses. (pause)   Did I tell you that the first time Eliza Davis met you, she came over to me and said you had a very sensuous mouth?

Rob.  She did not.  I do not.

Julie:  I said, does he ever, because that’s exactly what you have, Rob.  And after she said that, she leaned over and kissed me.  I wasn’t surprised.  I’ve thought for a long time that she might be bi-sexual.

Rob:  Kissed you on the mouth?  That’s pretty weird. 

Julie:  Eliza asked me how I could stand the way Charles paces up and down, jingling his keys.

Rob:   How did she know that?

Julie:  She knows that because I suggested he date her after her divorce.  They had dinner a couple of times, but they didn’t hit it off. 

Rob:  He must have jingled his keys once too often.

(Rob exits stage right, Julie exits stage left.)

Reminiscing Julie:  Meanwhile, after years of baffling detachment, Charles was turning my life into an implausible movie script.  Among his enticements were constant offers to fly me to exotic destinations—the Bahamas, Hilton Head, Jamaica. He seemed simultaneously so depressed and so endearing that I decided it wouldn’t hurt to spend an occasional platonic evening with him.
(Reminiscing Julie sits.)

(Charles enters from stage right, puts some dirty plates on the table and sits.)

(Julie enters from stage left with an empty tray, and starts picking up the dirty dishes.)

Charles:  Can I do anything for you? 

Julie:  No, thank you.

Charles:  Want me to rinse those and put them in the dishwasher while you freshen up? 

Julie:  Nope. 

Charles:  I’d be glad to. 

Julie:  Thank you.  (Pause.) I talked to Rob about your suggestion that I spend every other weekend with you.
Charles:  I’ve changed my mind.  I shouldn’t have asked.  I’m sure he’s already unhappy about how much time you’ve been spending with me.

Julie:  Actually he said it was up to me, he wasn’t going to—

Charles (interrupting):  Honey, let’s not . . . really, just forget it.  I could tell you weren’t happy about the idea, and of course he’s unhappy about it.  Forget it.

Julie:  But don’t—

Charles:  Honey, let’s not talk about it.  Let’s not spoil a nice evening by talking about Rob.

Julie:  But—

Charles:  (Raising voice.)  HONEY, LET’S NOT TALK ABOUT IT!  I understand how you feel, and I’m not going to press you.  I can settle for coming over once or twice a week and enjoying your company and having dinner and a nice sleep in the guest room.  That will be fine.  I’ll read my Time magazine, and I’ll go to bed.  Do your dishes, do your dishes, do your dishes.  Don’t worry about me. (Charles exits stage left, toward bedroom area.)

(Julie looks at the dishes, shakes her head, goes to desk and starts to write. A minute goes by as she concentrates on her writing, scratches something out, looks off into space.  Charles enters from stage left, but Julie is so engrossed, she doesn’t see him.)

Charles:  What are you doing, dear? 

Julie (Screams AARRGGHH, then collapses on desk, arms spread):  What does it look like I’m doing?

Charles:  Having a stroke.

Julie:  It’s more like a heart attack.  My heart is still thumping.  I’m writing to Eliza about our upcoming trip to Disney Land. 

Charles:  Just don’t try to fix me up with her again. She couldn’t have been clearer about her complete lack of interest in me. (pause) I’m glad you’re letting me stay over. It gives me hope.

Julie:  Please don’t hope too much, dear.  Remember how you used to say you wished I could be your sister?  That’s what I’d like to be now.

Charles:  I must have been deranged when I said that, but as you can see, I’m being very well behaved.  (pause) Goodnight, Sis.

Julie:  Now you’ve got the idea.  Goodnight, Bro.

(Charles exits, stage left. Julie goes back to writing her letter for a moment, then covers a yawn with her hand and puts her head down on the desk.

Reminiscing Julie speaks: (Younger Julie sits up and listens).  Charles was indeed well-behaved for his sleepover, but the courting continued.  Reminiscing Julie sits.

(Rob enters stage right, carrying a parcel, and joins Julie.  He puts the parcel on the table and gives her a hug.)

Julie: Charles was gone when I got up this morning, but he left a note with another of his sales pitches. He said he was thinking of renting a cottage on Donna’s Island, and if he did, he’d let you and me have it for two or three days. He’d even fly us there.  What do you think of that? 

Rob:  Need you ask what I think of that?

Julie:   I thought it was kind of him to make the offer.

Rob:   Jesus, he doesn’t believe I would ever go for a thing like that, does he?  He may believe you would.

Julie:  I wondered if maybe this would be his way of solving everything.   Head east until we run out of gas.  He’s talked about this solution before.

Rob:  Beautiful!  Oh, beautiful!

Julie:  Then I thought I could do the flying.  I’m getting better at keeping it straight and level. You could watch him, and if he started to do anything suspicious—

Rob:  You’d have me in the same plane???   You’re mad!

Julie:  This was his idea, that he’d fly us over.

Rob:  Yeah, but then you thought you’d do the flying, and I’d watch him?    Are you daft? 

Julie:  You mean you’d be watching me if I were doing the flying?

Rob:  (Emphatically.) I wouldn’t be there!  There’s no way I’d be there! 

Julie:  You don’t trust my flying? 

Rob:  I don’t trust your plane.  (Looks at audience) I’m going soon enough without looking for opportunities. (pause.)  When are you going to open the anniversary present I brung you?

Julie:  Ohmigosh, I noticed you were carrying something and then forgot all about it.

Rob:  (Feigning hurt feelings.) Right, right.  I’ll remember that the next time you give me one.  If you knew what I went through and how long I’ve been waiting for this moment to happen, Julie baby.

Julie:  (Unwrapping gift.) Oh, a pewter plate! (Reads engraving) “A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou—” I love it, Rob!  It’s beautiful!  I’ve gotta do something special with it.  Like hide it.  

Rob:  (Bark of laughter.) That’s the special thing you’re going to do?

Julie:  In case I’m not here and Charles drops in.  I don’t want to make him feel worse than he already does.  He called again today to ask if he could see me next Thursday, and I said not really, because I’m going away to a workshop next weekend, and I’ll want to see Rob the night before I go.  He said, that’s not static on the phone, it’s my heart breaking.

Rob:  You’re going away for what workshop? 

Julie:  Remember Lee Doyle?  She’s coming back to run another workshop.  Eliza Davis and I both signed up for it. 

Rob:  Is this another photography course?

Julie:  No, this isn’t photography, this is sex.  Lee Doyle is the woman who was the first trainee for Masters and Johnson.

Rob:  (Puzzled.) What is there about sex that you don’t know, Julie?

Julie:   Well, if there is anything, I’m gonna find out, and it’s gonna cost us $300 apiece.

Rob:  (To audience.): Holy mackerel.  That's like a fish paying $300 for swimming lessons.  (Looks sentimentally back at Julie.) But I love you, Julie.  I’d do anything in the world for you.  

Julie:  Would you fix my bird feeder, even?

Rob:  I knew you’d go too far.   

Julie:  (Laughing, gives him a push.) Wise guy.  (pause.)  Rob, you know that lounge chair you set up for me in the yard?  We were all supposed to bring chairs to the final Mind Control session.  When I sat down on it, it collapsed with my arm caught on one side and my leg on the other, so that I could not move. It took two guys, one grabbing each of my arms—

Rob:  Are you trying to make me happy?

Julie:   You should be glad they were there to rescue me, or I’d still be there. 

Rob:  Who were they, Julie? 

Julie:  One had something to do with electronics.  I was telling him about you.

Rob:  Good. We’re getting back to me.

Julie:  I told him I’d tried to work things out with my husband, but I was miserable.  We had a trial separation, and my whole life has changed.  I met someone I’m in love with, and I’ve never been happier.   

Rob:  Keep talking. I like the part about your being miserable with your husband. If I were at any of the sessions you’ve been going to, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for one minute. 

Julie:  Unless you were mad at me again.

Rob:    When you get mad, I always think of the time you said, “And you’re not it!”  Jeez, I thought I was it.  
Julie:   When we house-sat for your sister?   I had a good reason for being mad, Rob.  You went out to get the paper, and it started to rain, so you ducked into a pizza parlor and had a beer and a pizza.

Rob:  I remember that.  I brought back a slice for you.  A pizza offering, you might say. (Rob grins at the audience.)

Julie (not amused):  You were gone for a solid hour while I was trying not to overcook our dinner.  That made me so angry, that’s when I said, “I thought I’d found the perfect man, but you’re not it!”

Rob:  At first I thought you were kidding.   Then I’m realizing, she’s not kidding.  She’s really mad.  (Looks at audience.)  All of a sudden to be told you’re not it, wow.  I said to myself, maybe I’ll be it tomorrow.

Julie:  It’s a wonder two people so different have gotten through a year.

Rob:  We’ll get through a lot of years, Julie, if you’ll just behave yourself.

(ACT THREE) CHARLES WAS ECCENTRIC ON THE SUBJECT OF PAJAMAS

Rob:  Next time we go to Lakeside Lodge, I’m paying. When you pay half, I don’t feel I’m as manly as I’d like to be.

Julie:  You’ve got to get rid of this manly nonsense, Rob.  Like your refusal to wear a bathrobe because it doesn’t look manly.   You think you have to live up to this image. . .

Rob:  (Agitated.) Not at all!  Absolutely not!  You’re wrong!    (Calming down.)  It’s nice to see you, though, Julie.

Julie:  In spite of everything?

Rob:  It really is.  (Rob and Julie, holding hands, exit stage right.)

Reminiscing Julie:  So Rob had his idiosyncrasy about bathrobes, but Charles was every bit as eccentric on the subject of pajamas.   There was that memorable weekend when we set out for the Great Escape Inn.  Charles stopped the car at the end of the driveway and asked me a question.  Reminiscing Julie sits.  Charles and Julie appear stage right.

Charles:  Now, are you sure you’ve remembered everything?  Toothbrushes?  Toothpaste?  Cameras?

Julie:  Pajamas?

Charles (sounding slightly panicked):  Pajamas?  (pause) Oh, I’m sure I packed them.”

Reminiscing Julie:  I had never known a man who was so helpless without his pajamas.  Not that I was an expert on men in pajamas or men not in pajamas, but common sense told me a fellow ought to be able to survive a pajama-less night without injury to the psyche.  If Marilyn Munroe could slumber in nothing but Chanel No. 5, why couldn’t my husband make do with a dab of Old Spice?  Reminiscing Julie sits.

Charles (Rummaging through bureau drawers):  What did you do with my pajamas?

Julie:  I didn’t do anything with them.  I don’t remember seeing them when I unpacked.

Charles:  You must have seen them.  Now stop and think, what did you do with them—did you hang them in the closet or put them in the drawer?

Julie:  Are you sure you packed them?

Charles:  Of course I packed them!  They must be somewhere!  (He turns suitcase upside down and shakes it.)

Julie:  Why don’t you just wear your shorts?

Charles (whimpering):  But my legs would be bare!  I get goose pimples!

Julie:  I’m not asking you to be presented at court, all you have to do is get into bed.  It’s   simple.  Wear your shorts and pretend they’re pajamas.

Charles (not listening and raking through Julie’s clothes, neatly folded away in her drawer):  What are these?  (He holds up a red undergarment and dangles it in front of him.)

Julie (eyeing him warily):  Those are my tights.

Charles:  They were your tights.  As of this moment they’re my pajamas.

Julie (clapping her hand over her mouth):  Oh, no!

Reminiscing Julie stands. (With his back to the audience, Charles takes off footwear, strips to his shorts, and struggles into the tights while R J speaks to the audience):  Pleased with his ingenuity, Charles began working himself into my tights.  He reminded me of a movie I’d seen of a snake shedding its skin, only the process was reversed. (Pause, as Reminiscing Julie watches Charles’s struggles.)  He tugged.. .  and he pulled. . . . and he twisted . . .  and he stretched . . . until he finally got the thing above his knees. (Another pause.  Reminiscing Julie, along with Younger Julie, tries to smother her giggles.)   He continued to squirm . . . And to wriggle . . . and yank . . until at last he accumulated enough material to cover his navel.  I lost my fight to keep a straight face. (Laughing, Reminiscing Julie sits.)

Julie (gasping with mirth):  You’d be a sensation in a fire drill!

Charles:  (Wearing the tights, looks in drawer and pulls out a pair of colorful swimming trunks.) Now I will put these on.  (More hysterics from Julie, as Charles pulls trunks over red tights.)

Julie:  (doubled up with laughter): You look like a cross between a demented Romeo and a giant two-legged red spider.  It’s a shame to waste this.  I do hope we’ll have a fire drill! (Charles and Julie are startled when they hear a loud voice from stage right.)

Announcement over loudspeaker (made off stage by Rob):  ATTENTION GREAT ESCAPE GUESTS!  A FIRE HAS STARTED IN THE KITCHEN!  EXIT IMMEDIATELY AND BE CAREFUL  (pause) WHAT YOU WISH FOR!

(Charles grabs his clothes and the suitcase and exits hastily with Julie, stage right.

Reminiscing Julie:  Before Charles and I separated, we had many an argument about how late was too late to stay at a party.  I thought one o’clock at the latest, he thought three o’clock at the earliest. Rob wasn’t a party animal, thank heavens, but we did have other issues. Reminiscing Julie sits.

(Rob enters from stage right, where Julie is waiting for him.)

Julie:  I’ve been standing here with a rolling pin. 

Rob:  Really.  Am I that late? 

Julie:  TWO HOURS!

 (Turns away and plunks herself down on sofa. Speaks with mock ire.) I know what it is.  Now that I’m finally getting a divorce, my Romeo is sure of me!  No more coming through the front door with, “When am I going to see you again?”   Now the man wanders in at nine o’clock.  

Rob:  I didn't wander in.  I came in wanting to kiss you. (Sits beside Julie and kisses her.)

Julie: I’ve been thinking about us, Rob.  How did we ever get to the point where we were both ready to call the whole thing off?

Rob:   I know it.  Do you have any idea what I felt like Saturday night when the phone rang and rang and you didn’t answer?

Julie:  I unplugged it because I didn’t want to hear it not ring.

Rob:   After our fight, I started picking up my cigarettes in the bushes.  Then I said to hell with this.  She might be looking out the window.  I’m not going to be out here groveling. 

Julie:  (Looking gratified.) I knew that was exactly the way you’d feel.  I didn’t know they were going to go flying out of the package when I threw it, but I was pleased they did. Just be thankful it wasn’t your camera.  

Rob:  Thank God it wasn’t my camera.

Julie:  Want to hear my latest news?                                                              
Rob:  If it’s about Charles, not particularly.

Julie:  (Stands up and starts pacing.) Only indirectly.  I got sold on a lawyer named Nathan Klein.  When I had lunch with Eliza yesterday, she told me what a great lawyer he was.

Rob:  How did Eliza know what a great lawyer he was?

Julie:  Dan Chadwick recommended him to her when she got her divorce.  Anyway, I went to Nathan’s office to talk to him about the divorce.  The first thing he said was he heard I had a lover.  

Rob:  (looking pained.) Oh no, did he have to call me that?    

Julie:  Would you rather be called a bounder?  An adulterer?

Rob:  I’d rather be called Rob. 

Julie:  Nathan said, "From now on, you must be very discreet.”  (Scornfully.) That’s such a farce.   A husband can have lovers by the dozen, but his wife is supposed to be like Caesar's, or at least very discreet.  He said I mustn’t do anything to give Charles ammunition.

Rob:  What does he mean by ammunition?

Julie:  Evidence that I’m committing adultery.  He said Charles might even decide to break in with photographers.  If he caught us in flagrante delicto, I’d have no case. 

Rob:  What the hell is what you just said?

Julie:  It’s Latin for being caught in the act.  It’s so unfair, but according to the law, I’m not allowed to do what he’s been doing for years.   I’m not really worried, though.  Charles would never stoop to such sordid tactics.  Come with me and I’ll show you how delicto things can get.

(Julie and Rob exit stage left. There is about a 30 second pause. Then Rob exclaims “Hey! What’s going on!” They re-enter from stage left.)

Rob:  What the heck was that??!!

Julie:  What a scare that was!  I knew the bloomin’ socket in my desk lamp had a screw loose, but I never expected it to light up at such an inopportune time.        

Rob:  Oh, it was inopportune, all right. I thought, my God, we’re being raided!  Her lawyer was right.

Julie: Nope, just a little electrical problem. (Caresses Rob’s bare arms.)  I love your soft arms.

Rob:  (Pained.)  Soft arms?  Jesus, will you please give me something I can use? (Looks at audience.) She loves my soft arms. How can I tell that to the guys at the office?    

Julie:  (Pressing her face against Rob’s arms.)  They smell delicious, too.

Rob:  (Looking at audience.)  My arms smell delicious?  If I told the guys that they’d die laughing.

Julie:  Rob, I’ve been having this crazy idea.  I think I might really do it.  Put an ad in the Personals Column of Want Ad for Charles. 

Rob:  What kind of ad?

Julie:  I’ll say something like. . . uh. . . .(Pause.) My friend is attractive, lonely, looking for companionship, eventually marriage.  I’ll describe Charles and what he’s got to offer, describe the sort of woman he’d be interested in, and say write to me, post office box such and such, and then see what would happen.  How does that idea strike you?   Crazy, huh?

Rob:  It’s so crazy, only you could dream it up. 

(Rob and Julie exits stage right.

Reminiscing Julie: The Personals ad didn’t produce any likely candidates, but I don’t give up easily when I set my mind to something.  I was determined to help Charles find a special someone of his own, so I conjured up a new plan.  Why not put an ad in the real estate section of the local paper, offering Charles’s garage apartment at a very low rent in exchange for a house sitter and plant waterer when he was away—and part-time companionship when he wasn’t. It was one of my better brainstorms, although I had some difficulty with the Daily Gazette’s representative.  (Reminiscing Julie looks at paper in her hand.) I wanted the ad to read: Fantastic Opportunity—Semi-retired bachelor with beautiful waterfront home offers adjoining apartment with separate entrance.” 

     Right off the bat I was informed I couldn’t use the word “bachelor.”  I changed it to executive and continued dictating. (Reminiscing Julie reads.)  “Incredibly low rent in exchange for light housekeeping one day a week and assistance with occasional formal dinner parties.  If you are a cultured woman 45-55, trim and attractive, write the Daily Gazette, Box such-and-such.” The ad taker doubted that I could use the word “woman,” and I certainly couldn’t specify that she be trim and attractive.  That would sound too much like one of those Personals ads and could get the Gazette into trouble.

     I stuck to my guns on gender.  “My boss isn’t looking for a Japanese houseboy,” I pointed out.  After a conference with higher-ups, my adversary allowed “woman” and “cultured” to stay in the ad.  Reminiscing Julie sits.

(Julie reenters from stage right, with letters in her hand, followed by Charles.)

Julie: Look at all these responses to my ad.

Charles:  No, I’m not going to look at them.  No more blind dates. Nobody I meet has any appeal for me. I’m through with hurting people. 

Julie:  I knew you’d feel that way, so I called two of them myself and said I was your sister-in-law. I interviewed the third one in person.

Charles:  Listen, Julie, if you really want to help me, you’ll quit this match-making nonsense and come back to me.

Julie (sings):  “Matchmaker, matchmaker…” Come on, Charles, I’ve heard that song before, and so have you.  It can work, you know.

Charles:  Okay, okay. What was the in-person one like? Not that I’m really interested.  I’m just curious.

Julie:  She had her bulldog, Bronco, on a leash.  She hoped my brother-in-law liked dogs because she wouldn’t consider dating anyone who didn’t.  He was slobbering on my carpet and straining in my direction.

Charles:  I’d do the same thing and try not to slobber.  And what did the leash-holder look like?

Julie:  Quite a lot like Bronco, but to be fair, she didn’t drool.  I told her my brother-in-law was allergic to dog dander.

Charles:  I’m allergic to matchmakers of any kind.  It makes me break out in hives.  How about the two on the phone?  Just curious, you understand.

Julie:  They didn’t sound promising either.  One said she was raising twin grandsons and never went anywhere without them.  She assured me they were very well behaved and loved dining out.  I could hear them trying to kill each other in the background.  The third candidate said she’d love to meet you for a drink.  She hoped you weren’t a party pooper because once she got going, she could drink all night. 

Charles (sitting up straighter and feigning sudden interest):  Hmmm.  Did she enclose a picture with her letter?

Julie:  She did.  I told her you’d unexpectedly gone to Australia for a year.  She was a busty blonde in a bikini.

Charles:  What do you mean, was?

Julie:  I accidentally dropped her picture in the disposal.  Her letter, too.

Charles (laughing): What a shame!  Okay, Julie, that’s it, three strikes and you’re out.  Promise me you’ll resign from this ridiculous matchmaking business. 

Julie:  I agree.  It was a total waste of time. 

 (Charles exits, stage right.  Rob enters stage right with.)

Rob:   I kept thinking about you when I was cleaning the garage today. Every time I moved a board, there you were.

Julie:  You make me sound like a cockroach.

Rob:  There wasn’t the slightest resemblance.

Julie:   Thank you so much. (pause) I was thinking about you, too, and I had this idea.

Rob:  Uh-oh.  Your ideas always involve someone doing something they don’t want to. Someone like me, for instance.

Julie: Nathan called Charles and laid down the law.  He said Charles could absolutely ruin Claire’s divorce case.  If her husband were able to pin anything on her, she wouldn’t get a dime. So, I thought, how about if we all go over to the Island together?  Charles thought that was a terrific idea!

Rob:  (Begs to differ) That's a terrible idea.
Julie:  I thought it would help cement the relationship between them and help them to—

Rob:  We’d be helping to cement Claire’s relationship with Charles?   

Julie:  Charles said they absolutely cannot be anywhere together unless there are chaperones.  We’d be the chaperones, see? We’ll have our own little cottage and our own car, and go our own way . . .

Rob:  If we’re going to have our own car and our own cottage and go our own way, what’s the point to it?

Julie:  Then if word should get back to Claire’s husband that Charles and Claire were over at Donna’s Island, they could say, “But Charles’s first wife and her friend were there as chaperones.”

Rob:  (Incredulous.) Get oudda here!  What are you thinking?  There isn’t going to be any chaperoning.

Julie:  By the time George—that’s her husband—heard any rumors, it would be too late for him to fly any detectives over to peek in any windows or anything like that.

Rob:  So there’s just no purpose to saying that we’re chaperones.

Julie:   I could testify in court, if need be, that we were chaperones. 

Rob:  Why do you have to testify in court so Charles and his friend can get together?

Julie:  I don’t think I’d have to, but if they went over there alone, and her husband found out about it. . . .
.Rob:  He’d have to prove they were there.

Julie:  Maybe he could. 

Rob:  By flying detectives over there?  That’s pretty far-fetched.

Julie:  You better talk to Nathan, and you’ll understand it better.

Rob:  I’d better talk to Nathan? Claire’s lawyer?  

Julie:  Yes, he’ll explain it to you

Rob:  If Charles flew detectives over there, but they found out you and I were with Charles and Claire, then everything would be okay.  You believe that, Julie?

Julie:  Yes, because we’d be chaperones.  We could testify that they were with us all the time and that Claire and I slept in one cottage and (pause) you and Charles slept in the other.  (giggle)

Rob:  You’re soft.  First you have me in a plane he’s flying until it runs out of gas.  And now this.  I should think you would giggle. (beat) Can we stop talking about Charles? I feel as if he practically lives with us. Can we forget him for five minutes?

(Rob exits stage right) (Charles enters stage right)

Charles:  I had a dream about you last night. We were still married, but we were having a terrible fight.  I'd done something very, very wrong.  I'd been carrying on with another woman and boy, were you mad when you found out about it.  What kind of annoyed me was the fact that I'd been having this torrid affair and I couldn't remember any of the details— "

Julie:  I’m not liking this dream so far.

Charles:  — but it was obvious that you were right, I was guilty as sin.  And I didn't know what you were going to do about it—

Julie:  I do!

Charles:  —there wasn't any talk of divorce or any nice, clean‑cut, Get the hell out, we're through.  All I knew was you were trying to make my life as miserable as possible and were succeeding all too well.

Julie: It sounds as if you deserved it.

Charles:  Next thing I knew, I'd landed in Germany somehow or other, and I found myself walking past a burlesque house.  “I'll fix her,” I said to myself, so I walked up to this old hag who was standing outside and asked her how much it cost to go in.   She said, “Twenty-five cents, fifty cents, and a dollar.” I said I’d take the 25-cent ticket and she acted as if I was the world's worst cheapskate. She wheedled and cajoled and gave me this big sales talk about how lousy the 25-cent seats were and how much better I could see with a higher‑priced ticket.  Finally I agreed to pay 75 cents, and then what do you think happened?" 

Julie:  You got the crabs, I hope.

Charles:  No, I left the crab at home. (Julie takes a mock swing at Charles))  What happened was that I woke up.   That really fries me because it's so unfair!  After going through all the agony of fighting with you and not being able to remember anything about the fun I'd supposedly had, I go all the way to Germany, spend 75 cents, and don't even get to see the show from a 25-cent seat!"

Julie:  What a shame!  What a missed opportunity!  Way over there where I couldn't check up on you.

Charles:  Oh, yes you could!  That was another thing in the back of my mind.  I knew I'd never get away with it, one way or another you'd know.

Julie:  That’s a very unfriendly dream.  I’m going to call Dan and ask him if that’s one more grounds for divorce. 

Charles:  I suppose you remember what day next Saturday is?

Julie:  Of course I do.  I was at a party, sitting on the ping-pong table, and you asked me to dance.

Charles:  Forty years ago!  It’s such a special occasion, how about letting me take you out to dinner to celebrate.

Julie:  What about your new girlfriend?

Charles:  Felicity is a good kid. Amazingly tolerant.  She won’t object.  Julie Baby, I know you don’t approve of my newest girlfriend, and I can tell you exactly what you can do to keep me from marrying her.

Julie:   Is this Proposition number 22 B?

Charles:  It’s a genuine 18-carat marriage proposal.  You marry me.

Julie (shocked): But what about Rob, Charles?  You wouldn’t steal his girl away, would you?

Charles: Penis erectus non conscientious est.  (Grinning at audience.) Translation:  All’s fair in love and war.

Julie:  Pretty funny, but I’m not the same woman you used to know.  I don’t need to have a man in my life to be fulfilled.

Charles:   Balderdash.  No hot-blooded woman like you is going to slam the door on penis erectus.

Julie:  Ouch!

(Charles exits stage right.)

Reminiscing Julie:  Rob also persisted in his courtship, but the longer we knew each other the more we squabbled. We had a lot of arguments about our opposite views on everything, including the Persian Gulf War. 

Julie:  I’m so upset about the President sending American troops off to the Middle East that I can’t even stand to watch the news.

Rob:  You have to recognize that sometimes American help is needed.  The Iraqis invaded Kuwait. They had no right to do so. Somebody has to stop them.  You’d realize that if you weren’t such a bleeding-heart liberal.

Julie:  And you’re a bloody hawk!  Eisenhower wasn’t a hawk.  Remember how he warned us not to cater to the military industrial complex?  It’s as if we had this huge monster on a leash, demanding to be fed regularly.

Rob:  Is that a shot at me?

Julie:  Of course not.  All you ask is your cup of coffee and your cigarette.  But every time we, the great US of A—quote unquote— “help” people, thousands of innocent people die, their homes are destroyed, it’s a tragedy for everybody.

Rob:  The trouble with you is that you read too much and believe everything you read.

Julie:  I don’t, I don’t. At least I read. And I think it was a terrible thing that we ever got into this mess. 

Rob:  No, no, it was a terrible thing when we had to get into it. 

Julie: I don’t think we had to.

Rob:  Well, I think we did!

Julie:   This has been going on for years and years and years.  If we just stayed out of it, there wouldn’t have been a fraction of the bloodshed. The trouble with you is you believe everything you read in high school. If you’d finished your senior year, you might have learned that Americans are not always the heroes.

Rob:   I wish you hadn’t said that.

Julie: Well, I needed to.

Rob: No, you didn’t.  I knew that would be used against me someday.  Why did you do that?  Do you think I would have been so much more if I hadn’t dropped out to get a job?

Julie: I was just saying that the kind of history they feed you in junior high school and early high school is a whitewash.  It’s unsophisticated, the sort of history the Russians get.  Everything we do is A-okay. 

Rob:  I hate to think that if I’d gone to college I’d have ended up as cynical as you are.

Julie: I call it realistic—this beautiful country of ours wasn’t always so beautiful. 

Rob: This country isn’t as bad as you think.

Julie:   Maybe not, but this country can never admit to making a mistake.

Rob:  Oh, Julie, there’s no reaching you.  You always have a comeback.

Julie: Well, we just shouldn’t talk politics.

Rob: Sometimes I think we shouldn’t talk at all.

(Rob exits stage right.)

[Charles and Rob approach from stage right, coming from different directions.]

Charles to Rob: What are you doing here?

Rob: What are you doing here? Julie called and invited me.

Charles: Well, she called and invited me too.

Rob: Uh-oh.

Julie:   Hi guys. There is something I have to tell you both.  The fact is, I dearly love you both, but you’d better brace yourselves. (pause)  I’ve fallen in love with someone else.

(Charles and Rob, stunned, look at each other, then speak simultaneously): What? Who!?

Julie: Does it matter who? You know I love both of you like…brothers, and we can still all be friends. And neither of you will have to feel jealous of the other.

Rob: You can’t be serious. When have you had time to start a new relationship?

You are always with one or the other of us. Aren’t you?

Julie: Actually, it’s someone I’ve known for a long time and gradually developed a strong affection for.

Charles: It can’t be Dan Chadwick. He would never do that to me.

Julie: No, it’s not Dan.

Rob:  Oh no!  Don’t tell me it’s the darn plumber!

Julie:  No, it isn’t the plumber.

Charles and Rob: Then who? Who?

Julie:  Eliza Davis.   

(The two men expostulate simultaneously): Eliza Davis!?!! Eliza Davis!?!!

Charles:  No way, Jose!

Rob:  You’re pulling our legs, Julie!

Julie: We’ll be spending our winters in the Palm Beach condo she got in her divorce settlement.  We’d love to have you visit us. 

(Charles and Rob look at each other.) 

Charles to Rob: This is unreal.  Would you go visit them??

Rob:  Visit Julie and Eliza? Together? Like together together? That’s way out of my league.

Charles:  Well, I think I might just give it a try and see what happens.

Rob:  If you’re going, I’m going.

Charles (to Rob):  Let’s plan on it.  How’d you like to have a couple of flying lesson?

Rob:  Yikes!  All I’d want to learn is how to land the thing in case you croak, Charlie.

Julie:  Wait and see, you’ll get hooked just the way I did.

Charles (to Rob):  We’ve both been hooked for too long.   (Puts his hand on Rob’s shoulder.)  Rob, old buddy, this situation calls for a discussion and a drink or ten.  How about it? {Charles and Rob link arms and dance toward exit stage right, singing.) Isn’t it rich?  Aren’t we a pair? 

THE END   

Footnote:  This play is a work of fiction, sort of.  Any resemblance  you notice to actual people  is kind of coincidental.  Portions of this play’s dialogue have been adapted from Beyer-Malley’s memoir, Take My Ex-Husband, Please—But Not Too Far, Little Brown, 1991.

© 2010, Barbara Malley.

A PLEA. . .

     The letter below from Baker's Plays offers Kathie and me a chance to have our play accepted if it is performed professionally. Is there anyone out there who would be interested in staging a professional performance?  If so, please let me know via my email address bbmalley@comcast.net. We would be grateful if an experienced group could help us fulfill Baker's Plays’ requirement for considering our play and would waive the copyright temporarily, if that were needed.

Proposition from Baker’s Plays: