May/December

ACT I

Light opens on a dimly lit restaurant. A couple sits at a small table for two, center stage. They are surrounded by several other tables with people sitting at them and eating. There is a subtle sound of conversation and silverware clanking. A waiter, an older gentleman, approaches the couple.

Waiter: So good to see you again.

Wife: Yes. [smiles] Like clockwork.

Waiter: Would you care for your usual drinks, or something new?

Husband: Yes, please. Extra dirty. And four olives.

Waiter: Certainly. M'am? The Zinfandel?

Wife: You know it.

Waiter: Excellent. I'll put your drink orders in and bring you some fresh bread.

Husband: Thank you.

Waiter leaves table and exits stage left.

Husband: [sighs and smiles] This was a long week.

Wife: You say that every week.

Husband: I know, I know. I don't mean to be so cranky.

Wife: You're the perfect kind of cranky. Someone who isn't really cranky, but thinks he is.

Husband stretches legs out to side of table. Sits back.

Husband: You were quiet on the way here. What's the story there?

Wife: Oh, I dunno...Lot on my mind.

Husband: Well, start somewhere.

Wife: Johnny Depp fatigue?

Husband: Start somewhere else.

Wife: [Pauses, fiddles with napkin.] Do you remember the other day we both had off and I wanted to go get a manicure?

Husband: Of course. I dropped you off at that place around the corner from here.

Wife: Right. You dropped me off and talked with me for a bit and then left to go get a coffee.

Husband: Yeah...?

Wife: Well, when you left, the manicurist said [mimics Vietnamese accent] "Ahh, he much, much older than you."

Husband: [snorts] Oh? Much? That's funny.

Wife: I know. I told her "much" was a bit of a strong word, but yeah.

Husband: Normally that doesn't bother you...

Wife: Oh, that didn't bother me. It's what she said after that. [mimics again] "When he came in here I couldn't believe what a man he was."

Husband laughs out loud with a big, one syllable hoot.

Wife: Seriously.

Husband: You don't get more manly than me.

Wife: She said you were elegant. Masculine and elegant. Like you're some kind of wild, beautiful stallion running through midtown.

Husband: Fairly accurate description.

Wife: She was thinking, "How did this girl in the yoga pants and rough cuticles land that?"

Husband: She wasn't thinking that. You're gorgeous. And besides, who cares?

Wife: I know, I know...But the one day I don't shower...

Husband: To be fair, I shouldn't have worn my tweed blazer. Too dangerous....

Waiter delivers the two drinks and a basket of bread. Husband takes a sip of his martini.

Wife: My body took such a beating having kids. I now sneeze-pee and your waist has gotten smaller.

Husband: You're more beautiful now than when we got married. Besides, you're the first to say that looks don't matter. You stress it to the girls all the time.

Wife: Oh, that's just what people say, like "I gave at the office," or "I love working out."

Husband: Wait, you don't like working out? It's like I don't even know you.

Wife: Not caring about looks is what people must do when they aren't known for their beauty.

Husband: Stop it.

Wife: No.

Husband: No, I mean stop drinking my martini. You've got your own drink.

Waiter comes back to the table, takes orders. The orders are not heard, just the sound of muted muttering over background music. Waiter leaves, music stops.

Wife: So, while she's finishing painting my nails, she says, [mimics again] "Awe, you very very lucky lady."

Husband: This sounds mildy racist....

Wife: I mean, I know I'm lucky...

Husband: [smiling] You are.

Wife: Stop. I know. I know you are great. The greatest even. But she doesn't know that. Doesn't know your personality or what you are like as a husband and father. You didn't even do anything and I'm "lucky."

Husband: I find it odd you are telling me this story so much after the fact. That was over a week ago. You usually tell me your thoughts the moment you have them. Even if I'm in the bathroom.

Wife: I know. It just built over time, I guess. Lately I've had a lot of people stressing to me how lucky I am to have you. Like I'm somehow unaware...or unworthy. [pauses, looks around] Or just on the verge of ruining it.

Husband: I'm the lucky one here.

Wife: Oh...not really...The other day the diaper genie was full. And I stood there looking at it forever, thinking: I have no clue how to empty the damn thing. Three and a half years, two kids, a million diapers later and I've never once changed the bag.

Husband: [shrugs] Least I can do.

Wife: Stop it. This is why people think I'm the lucky one.

Husband: You aren't. I am.

Wife: Obviously. [takes sip] Still, everyone acts like you just dropped from the damn sky. But I'm the one who recognized how amazing you are...and I pursued the relationship when others might not have.

Husband: [smiling] Might not have?

Wife: You know...[waving a hand between them]...the age difference. Plus, you remember your hair back then, right?

Husband: Point taken.

Wife: People act like I should count my lucky stars.

Husband: Who? Who acts like that?

Wife: [pauses] My mother.

Waiter refills water glasses. Husband smiles, reaches across table to grab the wife's hand.

Wife: I like that shirt. You're cute and I love you.

Husband: I love you more. And I'm always happy to be out with you on my arm.

Wife: Our relationship only works if people see me as the young trophy wife that I am.

Husband: They do. I was as disappointed as anyone when I figured out you had brains.

Wife: I married older thinking it would come with wealth.

Husband: Tough break. [eats a bite of bread] You ready for class tomorrow night?

Wife: Oh...I guess.

Husband: Where's your normal enthusiasm? You typically can't sleep the night before class because of excitement.

Wife: No, no. I'm excited...

Husband: But?

Wife: Oh...it's just...Well, the other day one of my students said I was really entertaining.

Husband: That's awesome.

Wife: Yeah. If I were an entertainer. I just wonder if they are learning.

Husband: Oh please. The first rule of teaching is: engage the students.

Wife: The second rule is: don't sleep with your students.

Husband: Actually, let's go ahead and call that the first rule. Maybe the only rule.

Wife: Got it.

Husband: You've had lots of experience in the classroom...But this is your first semester carrying the weight of it all. The administrative part, the research part, the advising part. Give yourself time to adjust. Grow into the role.

Wife: You're doing everything you can not to point out how early I am in my career--how green and young I am--aren't you?

Husband: Did the waiter card you? [looking around the restaurant] He should have....

Wife takes another long, pointed drink of his martini.

Husband: A real woman can look past her hatred of olives to make a point.

Wife: [pauses. sighs] I can't even process it all right now. I mean, I've never been more satisfied and excited...the kids, the job....you..... But now I feel like I'm...I dunno....failing in other areas.

Husband: Such as?

Wife: My friends for one. Just don't have as much time, or energy, for everything I used to do with them...

Husband: Like what?

Wife: When's the last time I hosted a Girls' Night? I'm busting my ass trying to make it all work. Trying to fit it all in...It's like Whack-A-Mole.

Husband: Cut yourself some slack. Or no one else will.

Wife: I can't. Who knows if they do.

Husband: Well I do. I actually like when you're distracted. I get more reading done.

Wife: [laughs, takes a drink] You are good for me.

Husband: You're even better for me. Just look at my hair.

Wife: I'm going to check in on the girls. [rummages around in purse for her phone]

Husband: They're fine.

Wife: I know. [still rummaging] But Red was a little fussy earlier. I just want that tooth to pop through already.

Husband: You're so bonded to her.

Wife: [looks up from phone, furrows brow] I'm bonded to both of them.

Husband: No, I know. It's just been so different this time around. [pauses] You're incredible with them. You know that, right?

Wife: Oh I guess. [continues texting, then looks up] Sometimes it's like, I can't even breathe when I look them, I'm so in love. And they are both so sweet and so cute I just want to punch myself in the face. But then...[pauses]. When they are both crying...at the same time...both needing me in the same moment...I just want to walk out the front door, get in the car and leave.

Husband: Can I come?

Wife: Better not. I'm a lone wolf.

Husband: Well, by the time you found your car keys in that purse, they would have probably stopped crying.

Wife: [holds up her purse] This mess is my maternal instinct.

They are silent for a moment. Both take a few sips of their drinks.

Wife: Red makes me feel like a good mom.

Husband: You are.

Wife: No, I mean, I know I am by common, rational standards. But she just makes me believe I'm good. Like I have instincts. She's just so easily comforted by me.

Husband: We all are.

Wife: Yeah, right. I've never felt it was a strength I have as a mother At least not with Cakes. [looks at him for a beat] I wish I could be more like you are with her. More patient.

Husband: I'm only good with her because she's a little version of you. Louder, but basically the same.

Wife: That's part of my struggle...I can barely deal with myself half the time.

Husband: She's lucky to be like you. And that's why we get along well. I'm as intrigued by her as I am by you.

Wife: I think you mean entertained.

Husband laughs.

Wife: [looks down at phone again] Ok, she wrote back. Baby girl is out. Cakes is painting. [sighs, relieved. pauses and drinks.] Are you ready for the executive's retreat next week?

Husband: Oh, I guess...[looks off] It's sometimes a little bit of a challenge.

Wife: Your job? Or being married to me?

Husband: Both. But also, just knowing I'm the same age as the others...

Wife: ...the other men. You can say it. There are no female executives.

Husband: The company just doesn't trust women to be leaders.

Wife: Why would they?

Husband: Too unstable...

Wife: Oh! [she claps once] The Vanity Fair came yesterday and Angelina Jolie is on the cover.

Husband: Yes, isn't there a Philip Roth interview in there?

Wife: Yes, yes. [she swats a hand] I put it on your nightstand. But did you see the cover? The headline says something like, "An In-depth Interview with Mrs. Pitt."

Husband: [laughs] Burn.

Wife: I know, right? [takes a sip] I mean, the world has referred to Gavin Rossdale as the "Bush frontman" for twenty years. No Mr. Stefani? Bush hasn't released an album since the early nineties. They aren't even a band anymore.

Husband: No...they got back together a few years ago. I think they have a new album out...

Wife: Oh...Well. They called him the "Bush frontman" for so damn long the band had to get back together.

Husband: Wonder what Mrs. Rossdale thinks about that.

Wife: [laughs, eats a bite of bread] So anyway, the retreat. What were you saying?

Husband: Oh...I'm the same age as all of them but they all have grown kids. So flying off to a retreat in the woods is no big deal for them or the wives they leave behind. Their kids can drive themselves to school. The wives aren't stuck changing all the diapers.

Wife: Don't worry, women can feel resentment at any stage of life. I'm sure those wives have plenty to go on.

Husband: I can only imagine...

Wife: Besides, those guys are probably wishing they had waited longer to have children, like you did. You had the advantage of building your career before your children came along. [pauses, looks off] You don't have to struggle with being early in your career and early in parenthood. [takes a sip] Besides, our two babies keep you young.

Husband: Then how do you explain how much grayer I've gotten since Cakes was born?

Wife: Elegance.

Waiter brings a tray full of plates to the table. Places plates in front of the man and woman.

Husband: We need to baby proof a bit more in the house. Red is on the move now.

Wife sighs heavily. Cuts into her steak. Takes a bite. Sits back.

Husband: What? Am I doing it again? Being overly cautious?

Wife: Always. But it's not that. It's just the monotony of it all.

Husband: Of life?

Wife: Yeah, life and parenting. It's like, I do the dishes every day. Sometimes twice a day. And I'm washing those damn bottles and thinking: This will only last until tomorrow. Then I have to do it all over again. And the laundry. It's never ending. So many tiny pairs of Frozen underwear to fold and put away. It's adorable and maddening all at once. [pauses] I know I need to savor the moments...but I just get tired of the monotony.

Husband: And yet, we lose our minds when something goes awry. Breaks our routine. Like a cold. Or teething.

Wife: I know...But even the chaos feels monotonous.

Lights go down for a moment and then back up again. Time has passed. The waiter comes and clears plates. Sets down a cup of coffee in front of the man and places the bill in the middle of the table.

Husband: [takes a cautious sip of his coffee and sits back] We don't read enough plays.

Wife: [rolls eyes] Oh god...

Husband: We used to read a lot of plays. And go see a lot of plays.

Wife: Yes, and get ten hours of sleep a night...and go to the movies...and drink at bars....

Husband: I know, I know. I just really think we need to read more plays.

Wife: Why? Oh, because we just saw Birdman?

Husband: No. I mean, that reminded me, but I just really like reading plays.

Wife: I guess. They are just always so depressing. Who cares about the drunken malaise of the upper-middle class?

Husband: Okay then, Shakespeare?

Wife: Me thinks no.

Husband: We can read something more contemporary. Maybe find a play with just a couple of characters and read it to each other.

Wife: Naked?

Husband: Whatever works.

They sit back and look around the restaurant.

Wife: [breaking the silence] You always do that, you know? You always seem so nostalgic for the past. For the things we used to do. Always wanting to recapture the past.

Husband: Maybe. But you are always wanting to move forward at lightning speed. Tackling project after project like you are blissfully unaware of how long life is.

The couple is silent again. Husband pays the bill.

The waiter comes up quietly to retrieve the tray of cash.

Husband: [to waiter] I don't need any change.

Waiter: Thank you both. We will see you next week, yes?

Wife: [smiling] You know it.

Stage darkens. A light appears stage right onto a rounded,

blue exterior door. The couple exits through the door.

Wife: [rubs hands together rapidly] Burrrr!

Husband: I know, it's brutal. [helps wife into her coat, holds her in an embrace, rests his chin on the top of her head.]

Wife: Everyone is right. I am the lucky one. [looks up at him] I just hate they know that.

Husband: They know nothing.

Wife: All good things in my life stem from you, you know.

Husband: Hush. You're gushing.

Wife: [looks up at the sky] I didn't realize it was going to be this cold tonight.

Husband: I hate winter.

Wife: So cranky...

Husband: I'm more lovable in the summer.

Wife: Says who?

Husband: Your manicurist.

The couple walks slowly, hand in hand, off stage right.

END SCENE