MAYBE LATER THE QUID

Photographer - Tobi Brun

MAYBE LATER THE QUID

(One Act Play)

Scene

Backstage is a narrow hallway. Between two windows is a sideboard with a vase of cut flowers, a tray with decanters, mixers and a bowl of ice.

Stage front is the den. An easy chair with a reading lamp is extreme left, not easily seen from the hallway. A sofa, right, faces the chair.

Characters

Wilma – in her mid-forties, full-figured but quite attractive. Her hair is going gray and in a style that is slightly dated.

George – early fifties, tall, pale, slender, soft physique, hornrims, scholarly look. In brown slacks and turtleneck,

Frank (Wilma’s husband) – Forty-eight, tall, dark, athletic.

Curtain

Wilma enters backstage left. Frank is two steps behind her. She is in a dark knee-length satin party dress. She stops and begins unsnapping the buttons on the back of her dress. Then she leans against the sideboard and removes her shoes.

She is obviously miffed. Frank is in a dinner jacket and he has a conciliatory expression.

George, Stage front, is seated in the armchair reading a magazine. Wilma and Frank take no notice of George, and he pays no obvious attention to their arrival.

Frank: Come on now! Show some understanding! You know these things come up.

Wilma (stops and turns around): It never happens when you have a golf date. And this is the first time we’ve been out together in months! Surely, they could have gotten somebody else!

Frank: Look, baby, we sweated for years. We couldn’t have kept a house like this on what we were making before. I worked my tail off for this situation, and damned if I’m going to let it slip through my fingers because the night shift can’t…

Wilma: …can’t get along without you?

Wilma, carrying her shoes, exits stage right. Frank steps behind the sideboard, fetches a large Styrofoam cup from a compartment and mixes himself a drink. Faces stage front, and after a pause, faces the direction she has exited.

Frank: You make it sound like you think I like being called to the plant at night.

Wilma (from offstage): That’s certainly the way it looks…

Frank: Look, it’s Friday night. The plant is closed tomorrow. Now, if the night shift doesn’t make production tonight, I’d have to call them all back tomorrow – cost us tons of overtime. But I don’t expect you to understand!

Wilma (entering stage right, now dressed in shorts, pullover shirt, and slippers. She has a novel in her hand.): Oh, I understand all right! You knew we had planned to go out, and you, Mr. Big Shot, Mr. Fixit, couldn’t arrange to have somebody…

Frank: Well, I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed. But I’ve got to go.

Wilma: You’re going to the plant dressed like that?

Frank: I keep some work clothes down there.

(Frank reaches to kiss her, but she pulls away. He carries his drink, exits stage left. Wilma places the book on the sideboard and puts some ice in a glass).

George: Mix one for me, will you? Bourbon and soda, a little ice.

Wilma: GEORGE! What are you doing here?

George: Entering without breaking.

Wilma: How did you get in?

George: Trade secret.

Wilma: If you don’t get out of here this minute, I’m calling the police!

George. Call away, sweetheart. I won’t try to stop you.

Wilma: George, you’re insane. Why on earth are you here?

George: It’s not for larceny. Nothing I would need to steal.

Wilma: (Stepping closer to George) Surely you’re not here after me?

George: I’m just now realizing what a sexy lady you are, but no: I do not currently have rape in mind!

Wilma: Then why, George? Why are you here?

George: Maybe a little quid pro quo.

Wilma: Never mind the Latin. Give me a straight answer. And I might not call the police after all. I might just smash something over your head!

George: I hope it won’t come to that. Anyway, I’m here for confirmation and then a bit of justice.

Wilma: Justice? George, I’ve never done anything to you!

George: Perhaps not. But you’re the quid.

Wilma: So, I’m ignorant: tell me what that means.

George: Tit for tat, Love.

Wilma: It still doesn’t make sense.

George: Okay. So, you and Frank went to the Baxter’s party this evening. Right?

Wilma: So?

George: And while you were at the party, Frank was called to the phone?

Wilma: Yes.

George: And what was the nature of that call?

Wilma: It was from the plant. Some trouble with the night shift. He said they needed him right away. This happens from time to time.

George: But you found it particularly annoying tonight!

Wilma: Yes, I did. We’ve had this party on the calendar for a month. He knew I was looking forward to it.

George: So, he told you he was going to the plant? That was his cover story?

Wilma: Cover story? Just what are you implying?

George: No implication, Darling: That call didn’t come from the plant.

Wilma: Of course it did! Who else would have called him?

George: You know, I think this must be the first time I’ve see you up close! And I must say I like what I see! Now, I’ve known Frank for years. We were never what you would call close friends, but I always rather liked him. We were in Jaycees together. And we see each other once in a while. Why, we were even thrown into a foursome of golf just a couple of weeks ago.

Wilma: Oh, he’s deep into golf now that he’s plant manager…says it’s for business reasons. But what does this have to do with that phone call?

George: The call came from my house. Now, how about that drink?

Wilma: You called Frank?

George: No. The call came from my sweet loyal Miriam. In short, Dear Lady, I am cuckold!

Wilma: Frank and Miriam? You’re putting me on! I don’t believe you!

George: Okay. Let’s start with the Baxter’s party. Miriam and I were planning to attend. Then yesterday at the office I saw some problems with our monthly report, which is always due on the third Friday of the month. So, last night I brought home a briefcase full of data and got to work on it. It was after three this morning when I finally got it straightened out. With me so far?

Wilma: Yes.

George: So, I was a bit tired when I got home after today at the office, but I was resigned to the party – Miriam simply doesn’t miss parties. But when I got home, she was waiting for me. She said I looked bushed and that since I had been up most of the night, and it wasn’t fair for me to have to go to the Baxter’s. I told her I’d be all right in going, but she insisted we skip it. Of course, I could see right through her.

Wilma: It sounds like she was just being considerate.

George: Oh, sure. But she had her face on.

Wilma: Her face?

George: Yes, her face. She’d apparently been home for an hour or two, but she still had on her public face. You see, she spends an hour in the morning putting her face on; then when she comes in for the evening,she spends a half hour taking it off. So, there she was at six o’clock in a robe, but with all that glamorous makeup in place, and her hair not far from being public-perfect. I chose to go along with her ruse, and I went to bed right after dinner. It was about nine when she looked in on me and assumed I was asleep. I heard her whispering into the phone, making the call you thought came from the plant. Then she dressed and tiptoed out.

Wilma: You’re not just making this up?

George: Hardly.

Wilma: And you somehow get the idea she was talking to Frank?

George: I’m sure of it. You know something I like about you, Wilma? You’ve got eyebrows. Real eyebrows, not the pencil marks that go on after the real things have been massacred.

Wilma: George, I think you’ve hatched some kind of fantasy, but I want to hear all of this. We’d better have that drink. I’m having a double.

George: The same for me.

(She mixes the drinks, steps down into the sitting room, hands his drink to him, takes a seat on a sofa facing him.)

George: You know. I’ve always been fascinated by you, from a distance. But my, my, up close you are scrumptious.

Wilma: You’re not so bad yourself. So, you were in bed. And you heard Miriam on the phone.

George: And she dressed and went out.

Wilma: Okay. I can accept that. Were you surprised by this?

George: Hardly.

Wilma: You and Miriam haven’t been getting along of late?

George: Oh, we get along all right. But we’ve been in different worlds for some time now.

Wilma: How so?

George: Well, for all those years she was the super-efficient housewife and hostess. Soccer mom, Queen of the PTA.

Wilma: Oh, I remember seeing her at PTA, looking so elegant…and her picture was in the paper all the time! We all envied her.

George: I can’t imagine why.

Wilma: Well, most of us at PTA were working moms, stretched to the limit. And there she was so chic…why, she was just like a little June Cleaver presiding over those meetings…so much poise…

George: But now both of our kids are gone. No soccer mom, no PTA. She still does Junior League and Tuesday Night Bridge. But she has added Cotillion Club, the Masqueraders, two or three more. And we go to everybody’s drop-in or reciprocal. She even goes alone to some of them when I can beg off.

Wilma: Quite an agenda.

George: We rocked along for a while, but then she began to notice that many in this little crowd she relishes are career women! So, she felt she had to be fulfilled! Had to get herself something meaningful to do. A job, in other words.

Wilma: I heard she had gone to work. I was surprised.

George: She’s on her third or fourth gig by now. Says it gives her independence.

Wilma: You resent her independence?

George: Not her independence, per se. But, you see, other things changed. She not only took on a job, but a new persona. No longer the conservative empress, she’s now a socially active career girl, a forty-eight-year-old who wants to look thirty. She diets and does aerobics. Bought a ton of new clothes. And she makes her face up as if she’s going on camera. She even seems to talk a new language, the jargon of the workplace supplemented by the hours she spends in chat rooms.

Wilma: I haven’t seen her for some time, but I bet she looks fabulous.

George: That’s what I hear! I married Sandra Dee. Then there was June Cleaver, which wasn’t so bad. But now – get this – she’s Audrey Hepburn! That’s right. Skinny as a rail, the Hepburn hair, the whole ball of wax. But so bored with her husband! Except for parties, we just never spend any time together. And believe me, this wasn’t my choice! I get my own breakfast and leave before she does. We do have dinner together. But I fix my own and she fixes hers - dietetic stuff I can’t stand. Then, if we are staying in, I read or watch television, and she closets herself with Internet.

Wilma: Except for the meals and Internet, sounds a lot like Frank and me. If he gets off work early enough, he heads for the golf course. I still fix dinner, though. But back to Miriam: independence and all, this doesn’t necessarily mean she is having an affair.

George: I’m not claiming any psychic powers here. But I suppose I saw it coming. She was getting that far-away, longing look, almost like she was in some kind of romantic dream. But, of course, none of this was directed toward her husband. Then a few weeks ago the look seemed to take on a new intensity. I knew something was up.

Wilma: You could have been imagining all this.

George: No way! I had some positive indications that hanky-panky was going on. But since I didn’t know who she was carrying on with, I just kept my mouth shut.

Wilma: So, you decided it was Frank? Well, I just don’t believe it!

George. Tonight should prove it, even to you!

Wilma: You heard Miriam make a phone call and then leave your house. But did you actually listen in on the conversation?

George: I wasn’t on an extension if that’s what you mean. But I heard enough. I know she asked someone on the other end of the line to page somebody. And after a pause, she literally purred through the phone.

Wilma: But still, what on earth makes you think it was Frank she was going to see?

George: As I said, I was sure she was carrying on with someone. I would have played detective, but I don’t think I would be very good at it. But then the facts just dropped in my lap!

Wilma: The facts? What facts?

George: A few weeks ago, I saw them together in Rosie’s having an intimate drink.

Wilma: What’s so wrong about that? They’ve known each other for years. Remember, they were in high school together.

George: Yes, it sounds innocent enough, doesn’t it? And I wasn’t busy at that moment. I could have followed them, but I really thought nothing of it. And I didn’t mention it at dinner. But she did! She told me she had taken the day off to visit Georgia over in Maysville. Georgia is the sister she seldom sees – it’s a fifty-mile drive.

Wilma: Then Miriam lied to you?

George: No other way to put it. Did Frank happen to mention this innocent drink to you?

Wilma: No, he didn’t. But having a drink with Frank and lying about it? That doesn’t prove that she and Frank are having an affair.

George: There’s more. And I didn’t relish the job of bringing you the bad tidings, but maybe this is better than finding it out through the gossip that is sure to follow.

Wilma: Gossip? Have you been hearing gossip about Frank and Miriam?

George: No, I haven’t, but I suspect there is already talk about them at work.

Wilma: At work? Where does Miriam work?

George: You mean you don’t know?

Wilma: Know what?

George: Well, brace yourself: Miriam is in public relations…at the plant where Frank is now general supervisor!

Wilma: Miriam works at the plant with Frank? My goodness!

George: That wouldn’t be the expression I would use.

(Wilma stands, takes George’s glass, approaches the sidebar, mixes two drinks and slowly returns to George. She hands George his drink and takes her seat.)

George: Another thing I especially like about you, Wilma: your legs! You have healthy, provocative legs.

Wilma: They’re too fat! And Miriam has such trim legs. I envy her ankles.

George: Rot! The older she gets, the more her legs will resemble pipe stems. But yours are something I could build a dream on.

Wilma: Well, thank you. But back to the subject: how long has she been working at the plant?

George: Oh, seven, eight months.

Wilma: Frank has been going to work and seeing that sexy little thing every day!

George: Unless she is visiting her sister!

Wilma: Frank has always been a flirt, but I just can’t imagine…something like this would usually tear me to pieces, but I guess it just hasn’t registered yet.

George: You said a while ago that the routine around my house reminds of you and Frank. How so?

Wilma: It’s a long story. For years we were struggling financially, four kids, you know, and Frank was just a line supervisor then, and I worked part-time. So, when Junior got to high school, I took a full-time job, especially since we wanted a bigger house. But even with the added income, we were going into hock – for a while we had three of them in college at the same time! But then they made Frank general supervisor – that was four years ago. The pay was great, and we’re in much better shape now. But, of course, he’s working longer hours, and there are those damned night calls. Still, I just never imagined…

George: I can assure you I am not imagining…

Wilma: Of course, I didn’t know he was seeing her at work every day, but even if I had known – oh, I don’t know. But it is strange he never mentioned to me that Miriam works at his plant.

George: There’s an obvious answer to that.

Wilma: And you are convinced that they are…uh…

George: Misbehaving.

Wilma: Thank you for that euphemism. Do you know where they are going tonight?

George: First, he’s going to the plant and park in the lot. She’s probably picking him up right now. I could guess where they’ll go from there.

Wilma: Do you know how long this has been going on?

George: I’m sure of three weeks, but I suspect it has been a little longer than that.

Wilma: I just can’t take all this in. I just never thought Frank…

George: And until a few months ago I never thought of Miriam going down this road. But I saw it unfold before my eyes.

Wilma: So, what are you going to do now?

George: Do? Miriam is toast. I dread breaking all this to the children, but I’ll not be spending another night with her.

Wilma: Divorce?

George: Certainly. How about you?

Wilma: I just don’t know, George. You’ve obviously known about this for a while. Me? It has just now hit me in the face.

George: You mean you could go on with Frank, knowing what he has done?

Wilma: I’ve got a lot of thinking to do. You see, when I took on a job it was simply because we needed the money. And, frankly, by now, with Frank so tied up, I’ve come to depend on the job as an outlet – just to see some people I like. Moreover, even with Frank’s new pay scale, the money is important. Junior has at least another year in college – he’s in Navy ROTC and he’ll be an ensign when he graduates, but we still have another year’s tuition to worry about. And Elizabeth is getting married next summer – weddings aren’t cheap. So, the idea of throwing Frank out right now would have to be carefully considered.

George: That’s your business, of course. But I’ve had all I can stand.

Wilma: Maybe I’ll look at it that way after it all sinks in. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe if I had paid more attention to him. He’s been on me for some time about being more stylish, and about losing weight.

George: Losing weight? Wilma, how any man could look at you and want to change anything!

Wilma: George, you’re just being kind…to a scorned housewife. I know I am overweight!

George: Rubbish! Miriam eats all that rabbit food and she works out, so she can stay so tiny. That Audrey Hepburn look turns a lot of people on, but to tell the truth, she looked better to me when there was more meat on her bones. No, Sweetheart; you stay as you are!

Wilma: But I’m still stuck with a husband who obviously has eyes for a size 4. I suppose we could consider marriage counseling. Had you thought of that?

George: Emphatically no! Can I have another drink?

Wilma: Yes. I might not have one. I had at least one at the Baxter’s. But, what the hell: this is an unusual evening, and I can sleep as late as I like in the morning. (She stands and takes his glass) George, would you take your glasses off?

George: What?

Wilma: Your glasses. I’ve never really seen your eyes.

George: Okay. (He removes his spectacles).

Wilma: (She bends over until her face is only a few inches from his) Hazel! I thought as much. You know, you should wear contacts.

George: For crying out loud: why?

Wilma: You are hiding your best feature, that’s why. You’re kinda cute with your specks off.

(She goes to the sideboard.)

Wilma (at the sideboard): I think you should leave when you finish this one.

George: I don’t want to go, Wilma. I want to be here when Frank gets home.

Wilma: When Frank gets home? He might be late. Once or twice, he’s stayed at the plant all night.

George: He won’t tonight. Miriam will be sneaking back home in an hour or two.

Wilma (Hands him his drink): Here you are. (She takes her seat) Now, what’s the point of you being here when Frank comes home?

George: I told you: tit for tat.

Wilma: You told me that, but it doesn’t make sense.

George: What’s not to make sense? He’s been shacking up with my wife; when he gets here, he can assume I’m shacking up with his!

Wilma: But you aren’t!

George: Wouldn’t he assume that…coming in and finding me here? And you looking so fetching?

Wilma: He won’t necessarily think that. Your presence here even at such an hour wouldn’t automatically mean I had gone to bed with you!

George: What about when he gets a call from Miriam?

Wilma: Why on earth would Miriam be calling here?

George: To warn Frank.

Wilma: Warn Frank?

George: To warn him that I am in bed with his wife.

Wilma: That’s ridiculous. Where would she get such an idea?

George: From the note she’ll find on the table in the entrance hall.

Wilma: A note saying what?

George: Saying that Frank has been romping with my wife, so I thought I would romp with his.

Wilma: But George, you aren’t! You said you were not planning to rape me!

George: Minute by minute that idea becomes more appealing, but no, that’s not in the plan.

Wilma: Then what is the plan?

George: I just want to see the expression on Frank’s face when he finds me here. And it gets sweeter when he answers the phone and talks to Miriam.

Wilma: Then you expect Miriam to call here as soon as she reads that note?

George: I’d bet the farm on it. Frank will come waltzing in, all flushed from his antics, and he’ll find me here. He’ll babble and stammer and ask some foolish questions, maybe even get angry. And then the phone will ring. Miriam will read him the note. That’s what I most want to see.

Wilma: George, that’s diabolical!

George: Maybe sadistic is a better word. That’s the way I picture it.

Wilma: I have to admit it sounds like a cute little drama.

George: And all the while, I’m with such an attractive companion.

Wilma: I’m duly flattered. Nobody’s said such things to me in some time. But before these drinks take effect, we need to think clearly. While I admit I’d like to see this farce played out, I just don’t think it is too smart.

George: I thought it was brilliant.

Wilma: As a stage farce, maybe. But as a practical matter you might be cutting your throat.

George: Oh?

Wilma: All right, let’s be practical. You want a divorce. On what grounds?

George: Why adultery, of course.

Wilma: You think it will hold up in court? All you’ve got is the drink at Rosie’s, and the fact that she sneaked out tonight. That’s hardly proof.

George: Oh, I don’t even need tonight; I’ve already got the goods on her.

Wilma: The goods?

George: I told you I knew something was going on – something besides my imagination. Well, you see, the glamorous Miriam was just too careless about detail. Would you believe that on two occasions she paid for motel rooms on the family credit card?

Wilma: And you found the receipts?

George: Of course. They came with the monthly statement. I went by the motel to tell the manager he’d made a mistake, but he convinced me there was no mistake – he even described Audrey Hepburn! That’s enough to take to court. I’ll take her to the cleaners. We’ll sell the house and then split the equity. But she won’t get a penny of alimony!

Wilma: Okay, so you’ve got a case. But what about Miriam? She’s got a note that says you’re shacking up with me!

George: True.

Wilma: And when Frank finds you here, and with me, well, not exactly dishabille, but perhaps dressed for accommodation? That amounts to countersuit!

George: I guess I hadn’t thought of that.

Wilma: And what about me? Suppose I decide to get a divorce, say, after we get Junior out of school and we pay off Elizabeth’s wedding? Frank can always claim that I had an affair with you!

George: I see your point. It takes the wind out of my sails.

Wilma: Let’s think a minute. Maybe we can salvage a little something out of tonight…

George: You’re feeding my fancies…

Wilma: None of that. Not tonight, anyway. Look, when you came here, where did you park?

George: I didn’t. I walked.

Wilma: Did anyone see you?

George: I don’t suppose so. I thought you would be home from the Baxter’s by the time I got here. Your back door was unlocked, so I came in and made myself at home. If anyone had seen me, I suspect the police would have come calling.

Wilma: Perfect. Now finish your drink and get the hell out of here.

George: I don’t want to go home.

Wilma: No, don’t go home. Go somewhere, a motel, anywhere but home.

George: And?

Wilma: Things won’t play themselves out like you had planned, but close enough. Try this: Frank comes in thinking he’s gotten away with another tryst. He brushes his teeth and is about to enter the bedroom. The phone rings. Audrey Hepburn Miriam reads the note to him. He gulps and steps into the bedroom and finds that I am not there. He may go to bed by himself, but I doubt if he’ll get any sleep.

George: Where will you be?

Wilma: In Elizabeth’s room. He won’t look for me there. Aw, he won’t look for me anywhere – he’ll be too stunned. I sleep late on Saturday mornings. When I get up, I might ask who was on the phone last night. You see, I’ve gotten sadistic too. He’ll mumble something, anything but the truth. I’ll accept whatever he says and shrug it off – just let him wonder how much I know…

George: Then you aren’t going to confront him about all this?

Wilma: Not frontally. I told you about the situation with the kids; I’ve got to stay the course for a while. But he’ll know! He’ll know that I know! That’s enough for now.

George: When will you confront him?

Wilma: Oh, I don’t know. I’ll just let him stew. And when he finds out that you have left Miriam, he’ll stew even more, especially since it will dawn on him that I’m sleeping in Elizabeth’s room every night. He may come to me then with a big confession, which he’ll see is a waste of time.

George: You’re really cool! And here I was hoping you’d be all broken up, and with my shoulder to cry on.

Wilma: With your glasses off? I’m a pushover for hazel eyes. But, no, it’s time for you to go.

George: Can I call you tomorrow?

Wilma: No, George. I’ll be puttering around the house while Frank has the shakes. If you should call, it would give him some ammunition. And I can’t call you – I don’t know where you’ll be. How about this: I’ll call you from work Monday.

George: That’s a long time…

Wilma: I’ll give you a blow-by-blow. Should be worth the wait. Now go!

George: All right. Maybe this scenario is better than the one I had in mind. But I do hate to go. You’re such a…

Wilma: All that’s music to my ears, Hazel Eyes. But let’s follow the script. Out, now!

George: No goodnight kiss?

Wilma: Not with so much at stake, and with my self-control eroded after, what, three, four drinks?

George: Well, I’ll only say you’re the loveliest lady I ever didn’t seduce!

(George rises and approaches the door)

George: Wilma, do you suppose we…I mean, later…

Wilma: We’ll keep in touch during this siege. And afterward? After a graduation and a wedding? Who knows?

(Wilma stands. George comes to her. They embrace and share a modest kiss. She watches as George leaves.)

Curtain

Roy Haymond, Jr. a career classroom teacher, the writer and briefly of a smalltown weekly. Pubs in obscure journals in 16 states and Canada. Retired to a rural enclave, writes and plays tenor sax.