he’s calling my wife on the phone. And then proposes to gorge himself at my groaning board.
JOAN: The board won’t be the only thing groaning. You’re giving me a headache.
RICHARD: Sure. First I foist off more children on you than you can count, then I give you a menstrual headache.
JOAN: Darling. If you’ll get into bed with your apple juice, I’ll bring you cinnamon toast cut into strips the way your mother used to make it.
RICHARD: You’re lovely.
(Kisses her brow, takes blanket, pills, and juice, and goes into bedroom. She turns to head downstairs.)
PHONE:
(Rings.)
JOAN: Hello … yes … no … no … sorry.
RICHARD
(shouting from behind door):
Who was it?
JOAN: Somebody wanting to sell us the
World Book Encyclopedia
.
RICHARD ’ S
voice, after pause, with obscure satisfaction:
A very likely story.
(Blackout to indicate lapse of time. Next morning.)
PHONE:
(Rings.)
JOAN
(entering from downstairs in tennis dress):
Hello … oh, pity … don’t worry about it … I’ll be there.
RICHARD
(coming out of bedroom still in pajamas):
Who was that?
JOAN: Nancy Vetter. Francine has had to take little Robbie to the orthodontist this morning because Harry’s plane got fogged in in Denver. So our tennis won’t be until eleven.
RICHARD: Mmh
(the noise indicating slight surprise: not
Hmm
or
Humph). One good thing about a hangover, it makes a cold feel trivial.
JOAN: I don’t know why you drank so much. Or why Mack stayed until one in the morning.
RICHARD: It’s obvious why. He had to stay to make sure there were no hard feelings.
JOAN: Why would there be? Just because you were sneaking around outsideyour own kitchen windows and saw him giving me a friendly peck?
RICHARD: Friendly peck! That kiss was so long I thought one of you might pass out from oxygen deprivation!
JOAN: Don’t try to be funny about it. It was shockingly sneaky of you, and we were both embarrassed on your behalf.
RICHARD:
You
were embarrassed! You send me out for cigarettes in the dark of the night, and stumbling back through my own backyard what do I see all lit up in the kitchen but you two making like a blue movie!
JOAN: You could have coughed. Or rattled the screen door or something.
RICHARD: I was paralyzed with horror. My first primal scene. My own wife doing a very credible impersonation of a female spider having her abdomen tickled. Where did you learn to flirt your head like that? It was better than finger puppets.
JOAN: Really, Richard, how you go on. We were hardly doing anything. Mack always kisses me in the kitchen. It’s a habit, it means nothing. You know for yourself how in love with Eleanor he is.
RICHARD: So much he’s divorcing her. His devotion borders on the quixotic.
JOAN: The divorce is her idea, you know that. He’s a lost soul. I feel sorry for him.
RICHARD: Yes, I saw that you do. You were like the Red Cross at Verdun.
JOAN: What I’d like to know is, why are you so pleased?
RICHARD: Pleased? I’m annihilated.
JOAN: You’re delighted. You should see your smile.
RICHARD: You’re so incredibly unapologetic about it, I guess I keep thinking you’re being ironical.
PHONE:
(Rings.)
JOAN: Hello?
Hello? (Hangs up, stares at him.)
So. She thought I’d be playing tennis by now.
RICHARD: Who’s she?
JOAN: You tell me. Your lover. Your loveress.
RICHARD: Honey, quit bluffing. It was clearly yours, and something in your voice warned him off.
JOAN
(with sudden furious energy):
Go to her! Go to her like a man and stop trying to maneuver me into something I don’t understand! I have no lover. I let Mack kiss me because he’s lonely and drunk! Stop trying to make me more interesting than I am! All I am is a beat-uphousewife who wants to go play tennis with some other beat-up victims of a male-dominated society!
RICHARD
(studying her as if for the first time):
Really?
JOAN
(panting):
Really.
RICHARD: You think I want to make you more interesting than you are?
JOAN: Of
JOAN: The board won’t be the only thing groaning. You’re giving me a headache.
RICHARD: Sure. First I foist off more children on you than you can count, then I give you a menstrual headache.
JOAN: Darling. If you’ll get into bed with your apple juice, I’ll bring you cinnamon toast cut into strips the way your mother used to make it.
RICHARD: You’re lovely.
(Kisses her brow, takes blanket, pills, and juice, and goes into bedroom. She turns to head downstairs.)
PHONE:
(Rings.)
JOAN: Hello … yes … no … no … sorry.
RICHARD
(shouting from behind door):
Who was it?
JOAN: Somebody wanting to sell us the
World Book Encyclopedia
.
RICHARD ’ S
voice, after pause, with obscure satisfaction:
A very likely story.
(Blackout to indicate lapse of time. Next morning.)
PHONE:
(Rings.)
JOAN
(entering from downstairs in tennis dress):
Hello … oh, pity … don’t worry about it … I’ll be there.
RICHARD
(coming out of bedroom still in pajamas):
Who was that?
JOAN: Nancy Vetter. Francine has had to take little Robbie to the orthodontist this morning because Harry’s plane got fogged in in Denver. So our tennis won’t be until eleven.
RICHARD: Mmh
(the noise indicating slight surprise: not
Hmm
or
Humph). One good thing about a hangover, it makes a cold feel trivial.
JOAN: I don’t know why you drank so much. Or why Mack stayed until one in the morning.
RICHARD: It’s obvious why. He had to stay to make sure there were no hard feelings.
JOAN: Why would there be? Just because you were sneaking around outsideyour own kitchen windows and saw him giving me a friendly peck?
RICHARD: Friendly peck! That kiss was so long I thought one of you might pass out from oxygen deprivation!
JOAN: Don’t try to be funny about it. It was shockingly sneaky of you, and we were both embarrassed on your behalf.
RICHARD:
You
were embarrassed! You send me out for cigarettes in the dark of the night, and stumbling back through my own backyard what do I see all lit up in the kitchen but you two making like a blue movie!
JOAN: You could have coughed. Or rattled the screen door or something.
RICHARD: I was paralyzed with horror. My first primal scene. My own wife doing a very credible impersonation of a female spider having her abdomen tickled. Where did you learn to flirt your head like that? It was better than finger puppets.
JOAN: Really, Richard, how you go on. We were hardly doing anything. Mack always kisses me in the kitchen. It’s a habit, it means nothing. You know for yourself how in love with Eleanor he is.
RICHARD: So much he’s divorcing her. His devotion borders on the quixotic.
JOAN: The divorce is her idea, you know that. He’s a lost soul. I feel sorry for him.
RICHARD: Yes, I saw that you do. You were like the Red Cross at Verdun.
JOAN: What I’d like to know is, why are you so pleased?
RICHARD: Pleased? I’m annihilated.
JOAN: You’re delighted. You should see your smile.
RICHARD: You’re so incredibly unapologetic about it, I guess I keep thinking you’re being ironical.
PHONE:
(Rings.)
JOAN: Hello?
Hello? (Hangs up, stares at him.)
So. She thought I’d be playing tennis by now.
RICHARD: Who’s she?
JOAN: You tell me. Your lover. Your loveress.
RICHARD: Honey, quit bluffing. It was clearly yours, and something in your voice warned him off.
JOAN
(with sudden furious energy):
Go to her! Go to her like a man and stop trying to maneuver me into something I don’t understand! I have no lover. I let Mack kiss me because he’s lonely and drunk! Stop trying to make me more interesting than I am! All I am is a beat-uphousewife who wants to go play tennis with some other beat-up victims of a male-dominated society!
RICHARD
(studying her as if for the first time):
Really?
JOAN
(panting):
Really.
RICHARD: You think I want to make you more interesting than you are?
JOAN: Of
Similar Books
