Five @ Fifty

by Brad Fraser

  OLIVIA: They were antique? I have the best friends.

  LORENE: Now aren’t we glad there’s a second gift? Here. Try not to drop it.

  TRICIA: Handy.

  LORENE: Yeah.

  OLIVIA: Chanel I love it wow great thanx a lot.

  LORENE: Really?

  OLIVIA: Totally mean it where’s my drink?

  NORMA: Right here.

  OLIVIA: That’s it for fucking presents? Some broken duck glasses and a Chanel gift set?

  NORMA: I got you something.

  OLIVIA: Goody.

  FERN: What is it?

  NORMA produces a ring box and hands it to OLIVIA.

  NORMA: For your fiftieth.

  OLIVIA: It’s a ring.

  TRICIA: Y’think?

  OLIVIA opens the box.

  FERN: Are we witnessing a proposal?

  Pause.

  NORMA: It’s just a friendship ring.

  TRICIA: Oh please.

  OLIVIA: Thank you.

  OLIVIA and NORMA kiss.

  FERN: Aw.

  NORMA: You’re welcome.

  OLIVIA: I love you.

  LORENE: Get a room.

  OLIVIA: I love you all where’s the champagne?

  TRICIA: You just refilled your glass.

  OLIVIA: Who’s all of a sudden the drink police?

  TRICIA: I’m just.

  OLIVIA: Mind your business.

  FERN: I’m gonna contact Walter.

  TRICIA: Right.

  OLIVIA: More drinks.

  FERN: Oh I think I’ve had enough.

  OLIVIA: But it’s my birthday.

  FERN: I have to be up early.

  OLIVIA pours champagne into FERN’s glass.

  OLIVIA: Drink.

  FERN: I don’t.

  OLIVIA: Drink.

  TRICIA: Stop bullying her.

  OLIVIA: It’s my fucking birthday. We’re all supposed to get drunk.

  FERN: I’m drunk enough.

  LORENE: Me too.

  NORMA: Why don’t I make some coffee?

  OLIVIA: Jesus Christ you’re all so fucking boring.

  LORENE: Olivia.

  OLIVIA suddenly pukes all over TRICIA. Long pause.

  TRICIA: Back to charm school.

  LORENE: Olivia.

  FERN: Eeew.

  NORMA: I’ll get a washcloth.

  NORMA exits.

  FERN: Are you alright?

  OLIVIA: Fine.

  FERN: I meant Tricia.

  TRICIA: Fine except for the puke.

  FERN: Good.

  LORENE: Oy.

  OLIVIA: Sorry sorry happy boiday.

  FERN: Olivia.

  OLIVIA: Tired now. Sorry.

  OLIVIA exits.

  LORENE: Happy birthday.

  NORMA enters with a washcloth. She wipes the puke off of TRICIA.

  NORMA: I don’t know if she ate any dinner.

  TRICIA: It smells like lunch.

  A car horn is heard off.

  FERN: That’ll be Walter.

  NORMA: Perfect timing.

  FERN: Lorene we go right past your place.

  LORENE: You don’t mind? It would save calling Clifford.

  FERN: Of course not.

  LORENE: Thank you.

  FERN: Tricia?

  TRICIA: I’ll help Norma clean up.

  LORENE: You sure?

  TRICIA: I’ll be fine.

  FERN: Good night. Merci.

  NORMA: Night.

  LORENE: Lovely party.

  LORENE and FERN exit. NORMA and TRICIA tidy up without saying anything for a moment.

  TRICIA: That was a proposal.

  NORMA: Tricia I’ve been living with Olivia for over twenty years. I don’t need a wedding to make it official.

  TRICIA: That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t like one.

  NORMA: Let it go.

  TRICIA: Will you be able to sleep?

  NORMA: As much as I ever do.

  TRICIA: Joint?

  NORMA: It’s too late.

  TRICIA: About this puking thing—

  NORMA: It’s her birthday. She got a little emotional and out of control. Don’t make a drama out of it please Trish. Tomorrow she’ll feel so bad.

  Short pause.

  TRICIA: Okay. I’m off.

  NORMA: Thanx.

  They embrace and kiss. A light rises on LORENE alone.

  LORENE: Shalimar. A dab on the underside of each wrist—behind each ear. It hung around after she left—sometimes for days—almost like she was still there but invisible. When she first got sick and I sat with her in that place—she was unconscious—I put my hand around her wrist and held it just for a few minutes and I could smell Shalimar on my fingertips for months afterward. It clung to me like—guilt for not being a better daughter—not being a better mother. Shalimar. The smell of someone who’s never really been there.

  A light on FERN; she’s in her living room on her yoga mat.

  FERN: Stretch and breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  TRICIA enters.

  TRICIA: Hey stranger. So glad you called.

  FERN: You’re early.

  TRICIA: I am?

  FERN: Twenty minutes.

  TRICIA: We can chat while you stretch.

  FERN: Don’t be silly. I can—

  TRICIA: Seriously. Shut up and yoga.

  FERN performs yoga as they speak.

  FERN: It’s a beautiful day.

  TRICIA: Where are the boys?

  FERN: They’re never home in the summer. All of our meaningful contact comes through electronic communication devices. Do you want to join me?

  TRICIA: What?

  FERN: Stretch with me. It’s wonderful. You won’t be able to stop.

  TRICIA: Thanx but I’ve got some naggy back thing going on. Who’s that guy?

  FERN: Where?

  TRICIA: Across the street. Beige house.

  FERN: Oh Barry. His wife’s Linda the rusty haired IT developer.

  TRICIA: They come to all your seasonal blah blahs.

  FERN: For nearly twenty years.

  TRICIA: He’s a—?

  FERN: Graphic artist. Works out of his home. A boy and a girl. Both in university.

  TRICIA: Designer.

  FERN: Pardon?

  TRICIA: They call them graphic designers now because they work on computers.

  FERN: Right.

  TRICIA: Nice legs.

  FERN: He’s a nice guy.

  TRICIA: Aw now he’s going into the house. Bye Barry.

  FERN: I have iced tea filtered water or pomegranate juice.

  TRICIA: How about a diet whatever? I’m hooked on the aspartame.

  FERN’s finished. She towels off, rolls up her mat, etc. as they speak.

  FERN: No.

  TRICIA: Coffee?

  FERN: Can’t live without it. Fresh in the maker.

  FERN gets coffee.

  TRICIA: Do you have a cleaning lady?

  FERN: Shiera from Trinidad. I’d be lost without her.

  TRICIA: I need a Shiera from Trinidad. It takes forever to clean my place.

  FERN gets herself a cup of coffee.

  FERN: Do you think that was a proposal the other night?

  TRICIA: I think it’s as close as Norma will ever get.

  FERN: I felt a bit bad for her.

  TRICIA: They’ve been together long enough for her to know how it works.

  FERN: You’d hope. How long has Olivia been getting drunk like that?

  TRICIA: I’m not sure.

  FERN: She used to be so much fun.

  TRICIA: If high maintenance.

  FERN: She told such wonderful stories.

  TRICIA: Yeah.

  FERN: But now it’s just all those lists. What she ate. Those people she works with. What they watched on TV. She doesn’t look well either.

  TRICIA: How could she? They live on meat lard gravy and cake.

  FERN: How much is she drinking?

  TRICIA: Almost constantly. />
  FERN: Why haven’t you said something?

  TRICIA: I have. A couple times. In that sort of are you sure you should be doing that kind of way. She just laughs and tells me there’s nothing to worry about.

  FERN: I was sure she was drunk at Donnie’s junior grad.

  TRICIA: Shit.

  FERN: What?

  TRICIA: She’s an alcoholic isn’t she?

  FERN: I think so.

  TRICIA: Goddamn it.

  FERN: Do you think someone should talk to her?

  TRICIA: Yes. But who?

  FERN: Whoever’s closest to her.

  TRICIA: Lorene.

  FERN: Absolutely.

  A light rises on LORENE in her kitchen with a cup of coffee.

  LORENE: Me? Why me?

  FERN and TRICIA join her with coffee cups.

  TRICIA: You’ve known her the longest.

  FERN: She listens to you more than she listens to anyone else.

  LORENE: Tricia usually does the hard stuff.

  TRICIA: But she relates to you best.

  LORENE: Yeah but.

  FERN: We have to say something.

  LORENE: Really?

  TRICIA: Lorene.

  Pause.

  LORENE: I’ll talk to Olivia if you’ll talk to Norma.

  FERN: She’s her enabler.

  TRICIA: Maybe we should consult a professional first.

  LORENE: Professional what?

  TRICIA: Addictions counsellor psychotherapist witch doctor you know.

  FERN: Don’t you think if any of us were dealing with this we’d appreciate having it kept in the family for as long as possible?

  TRICIA: We’re just gonna talk to her.

  LORENE: Do you think it’s because she doesn’t want to be a lesbian anymore?

  FERN: Was she ever a lesbian to begin with?

  LORENE: Is this any of our business—really?

  TRICIA: You don’t think there’s a problem?

  LORENE: Lotsa people drink a lot. Including us.

  FERN: But not every day.

  TRICIA: All day long. With wild mood swings. It’s all classic shit.

  LORENE: You know how mad she gets.

  FERN: I think the trick is to speak to both of them gently. Out of a caring place.

  TRICIA: Identify the problem and deal with it.

  LORENE: I guess that’s what real friends do.

  TRICIA: Exactly.

  A light on NORMA alone in her office filling out medical forms.

  NORMA: We were watching the Big Monkey Movie—it was actually the Big Money Movie but that’s what we called it—on that new cablevision station in her basement rec room. It was some black and white British monstrosity called Island of Terror about these bone sucking turtle monsters that was actually scarier than it sounds and we just kept moving closer and closer together under the quilt until my hand was on her thigh and she didn’t move away. She didn’t respond but she didn’t move away. We kept watching the movie but our breathing had changed. I thought she could hear my heart beating. I started to say something but she just shook her head without looking away from the TV. Then she let me keep my hand there for the rest of the movie. It was so painful. So perfect. So much more than I ever hoped for.

  Lights rise on OLIVIA at a table in a restaurant. She’s drinking a glass of white wine. There is a fresh beer on the table. LORENE enters.

  LORENE: Sorry traffic’s a bitch.

  OLIVIA: Don’t worry. I just got here two wines ago myself. You look great in that.

  LORENE: Thanx. You too.

  OLIVIA: I like this place. It’s got a vibe. I ordered you a beer.

  LORENE: Thanx.

  OLIVIA: Check out our waiter.

  LORENE: Where?

  OLIVIA: The brunette with the big shoulders and bad haircut.

  LORENE: Nothing wrong with that.

  OLIVIA: Very nice butt.

  LORENE: Indeed. You ever miss it?

  OLIVIA: Miss what?

  LORENE: The dick.

  OLIVIA: They have the best barbecued pork ribs here. The best. The best.

  LORENE: How’s work?

  OLIVIA: Marlene’s sister’s daughter finally gave her the baby so she could move in with her boyfriend.

  LORENE: Really?

  OLIVIA: She’s the document master remember?

  LORENE: Right.

  OLIVIA: Her niece is the abusive mother with the Swiss boyfriend.

  LORENE: Sure.

  OLIVIA: And Mandy’s husband Milt had a cancerous testicle removed. You know they do it through a small incision in the abdomen. I thought they’d have to cut the sack open completely but disappointingly no. Robert’s mother went into the hospital with a tumour on her tongue and they cut one whole side of it off. And a big chunk of her jaw and a bit of her neck. Martin had some bathroom event that got him into trouble. I asked around but no one knows the details.

  LORENE: You’re okay though?

  OLIVIA: Oh please I’ve got so much seniority I’d have to kill someone more important than my supervisor in a very nasty manner to be dismissed. Another five years and I retire with a full pension.

  LORENE: Enjoy it. Not many get to retire like that anymore.

  OLIVIA: I know. Full health and dental plus eighty percent of my final salary for life—amazing death benefits. Mahogany casket. Headstone with a statue of Jesus or Mohamed or Satan or whoever you’re into.

  LORENE: Lucky.

  OLIVIA: Selling any houses?

  LORENE: Omigod it’s like stealing from people. The market’s so hot right now. And the interest rates.

  OLIVIA: We haven’t had lunch in like forever.

  LORENE: We get so busy.

  OLIVIA: Tell me about it. But it has to stop. We go back the farthest of all of us.

  LORENE: We do. That is a beautiful ring.

  OLIVIA: Isn’t it?

  LORENE: Stunning.

  Pause.

  OLIVIA: What?

  LORENE: I just nothing actually but Tricia thought I should talk to you.

  OLIVIA: Tricia?

  LORENE: Yeah.

  OLIVIA: Are you okay?

  LORENE: What? Yeah.

  OLIVIA: It’s just—

  LORENE: Yeah?

  OLIVIA: You’ve been—

  LORENE: What?

  OLIVIA: How’s Clifford?

  LORENE: Great.

  OLIVIA: You guys are fine?

  LORENE: Stronger than ever.

  OLIVIA: I’ve been—concerned.

  LORENE: Why?

  OLIVIA: I guess I just—I want to know that you’re alright—that you’re getting what you need.

  LORENE: Why wouldn’t I be?

  OLIVIA: I don’t know. Aren’t you?

  LORENE: Sure yeah what?

  OLIVIA: I just want to make sure you’re okay.

  LORENE: Don’t I seem okay?

  OLIVIA: I can tell when something’s bothering you.

  LORENE: Nothing’s bothering me.

  OLIVIA: Not even the children?

  LORENE: Why are you bringing them up?

  OLIVIA: You started this conversation.

  LORENE: No.

  OLIVIA: You did.

  LORENE: I just meant to—

  OLIVIA: What?

  LORENE: Where’s the fucking waiter?

  OLIVIA: Something’s bothering you.

  LORENE: I felt their fathers were more suitable parents than me—you know that.

  OLIVIA: You’re upset.

  LORENE: No where’s that waiter I need another beer.

  OLIVIA: I could use a fresh one too. Was there something specific you wanted to talk to me about?

  LORENE: No—nothing no.

  Lights rise on TRICIA and NORMA sharing a joint and playing cribbage.

  TRICIA: Fifteen two fifteen four fifteen six fifteen eight and a pair is ten and a double run is sixteen.

  NORMA: Ignorant whore.

  TRICIA: You dealt.

  NORMA: You want a
diet whatever?

  TRICIA: Of course. I’m so glad your work hours end nice and early.

  NORMA: Finish this. Maybe not much longer.

  TRICIA: Why not?

  NORMA hands the joint to TRICIA and exits to the kitchen but speaks off.

  NORMA: They’re pushing me to take more patients. Did you know for every kid that moves on to a GP there are two more waiting to take its place?

  TRICIA: Has it gotten so bad?

  NORMA: They really only want us to drug them anyway. What are you working on?

  NORMA enters with drinks and snacks.

  TRICIA: Something refuting the whole sexuality has no choice paradigm—that all people are born gay or straight shit.