by Laurie Graff
Fred leaned over the tape recorder using his two forefingers to press the buttons that would record.
“Okay,” he said, looking at me across the room, busting and bursting out of my very own seams. “Now, tell me, Karrie, in your own words,” said Fred as cool and collected as I’d ever seen him. “What the fuck went on in college between you and that guy in the hideous orange tights?”
* * *
FROGAPHOBIA
Just when you thought it was safe to date!
A TALE TOLD IN ONE ACT
Performed by Karrie Kline
Directed by Fred Grennon
Premiere:
My Theater Workshop
May 6, 2005
New York City
FROGAPHOBIA
The time is the Present.
We discover KARRIE, in bed, asleep in her bathrobe.
The stage is bare but for a bed, a table, and a chair.
The phone rings. There is a pause. The phone rings again.
KARRIE
(Sleepily looks at clock.) Eleven thirty-eight. Oh God. Eleven thirty-eight? Who’s calling me so late? I just went to bed.
(The phone rings for the third time.)
Wait... Is it eleven thirty-eight tonight or is it already tomorrow? (Thinks.) I remember I watched Sleepless in Seattle. That was...
(The phone rings for the fourth time.)
I’m not getting that.
KARRIE
(voice on answering machine)
Hi there! It’s Karrie Kline. Wait for the beep and do what you do!
KARRIE
(speaks over her outgoing message)
(Counting on her fingers.) Eleven. Twelve, one, two, three, fo— Oh my God! It’s tomorrow!
JERRY
(voice on answering machine)
Good morning, Karrie, it’s me, Jerry, over at Talent All-Too Limited.
KARRIE
I’ve been sleeping over twelve hours! I’ve got to get up.
JERRY
(voice on answering machine)
You’re released from hold as the mouse for that voice-over for Cheeze Bitz. The client didn’t think you sounded plump. 212-555-1234. Thanks.
(She throws the blanket covers over her head, then peeks out and talks to the audience.)
KARRIE
What a way to start the day. It’s almost noon. On a Tuesday. Primetime time in the workweek. Other people, most people, are out. They’re working. At the very least most people are dressed. Then there’s me. Fast asleep.
I really think I would have a whole different life if I just woke up early. I once said that to a date. He said I would. He said I’d be more tired. But when you look at really successful people, don’t you think that? Oprah has a talk show, a book club, a boyfriend, a movie company, a personal trainer, a cookbook and a book deal. And when I look at Oprah, all I can think is... Gosh, what time do you wake up?
(She throws the blanket covers off and points to herself.)
But I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to get out of my pajamas. I don’t even want to get out of bed. And tonight is Marcy’s bridal shower. I’ll watch her open a hundred gifts on her registry so I get a good look at what I’m missing. It’s all too much. I am staying in this bed and I’m not getting up until I get married.
(The phone rings. And the phone rings again.)
KARRIE
I just want to see who it is.
(She hears the voice on the machine and pulls the covers over her head.)
RODNEY
(voice on answering machine)
Hello, Karrie. This is Rodney. Rodney Schwartz. I took the liberty of looking you up in the phone book. I felt it was probably okay to take that leap after you’ve run into the woman who lost her virginity to you. Call me. 212-555-5678.
KARRIE
Well, this is turning out to be one red-banner day. If I knew that night in my dorm room that two decades later, a still-single me would run into Rodney Schwartz at temple, a Rodney dressed in bright orange tights for his part in the Purim play, I probably would’ve opted to “lose it” with some other guy. We met my freshman year at college. I was a theater major and Rodney was getting his Masters in film. Soon I was starring in his thesis, “The Geometry of Love.” He directed me to run through the other girl’s dorm with a knife screaming, “Where is she?” I had to douse him with a pitcher of beer when I caught them making out in the campus pub. And then there was the nude scene. Rodney directed me to be ecstatic, like I had an orgasm. And that’s where my acting ability failed me because I couldn’t act what I just did not know. In the end I refused to spend my spring break at school filming and left him to wait tables in the Catskills. “What are you interested in—art or money?” Rodney would scream, wild like his bushy hair. It was soon after I “lost it” but I lost it again and we broke up.
(The phone rings.)
KARRIE
It’s so busy! Look. I’m still not married, but I do have to pee. You listen while I’m gone. Take a message. I’ll be right back.
(She exits.)
MARCY
(voice on answering machine)
Hi, it’s Marcy. I know we talked about you coming to Bloomie’s with me to help pick out a couch for the new co-op, but Martin reminded me we have theater tickets tonight to see Phantom so I can’t. Call me.
(KARRIE reenters wearing a skirt, tank top and flip-flops.)
KARRIE
(As if she’s at a surprise party.)
SURPRISE! Won’t Marcy be surprised to find out that tonight, instead of seeing Phantom she’s going to see every important female she knows tell her, “I’m so happy for you. I told you it would happen. It happens for everybody. It just has to be your time.” Do you think it happens for everyone?
(KARRIE asks people in the audience.)
Do you? What about you, sir? (Points to someone else.) And, over there...you? I think— Well, I’m going to need a very strong cup of coffee to tell you that. I know...if I’m making I should make enough for everybody, but I just don’t have a big enough pot. Sorry!
(She goes to an area and makes coffee as she talks.)
I used to think if you kissed a lot of frogs one of them would turn into a prince. But look at this. (Picks up magazine article from table and reads.) “Some women turn frogs into princes, do you turn princes into frogs? Find out, take this test.” Well! Let’s dip our toes into the last fifteen years of my dating pond and we’ll find out.
(Pours a cup of coffee and sits.)
There was Donald the writer, who spent thirty-two hours working on a paragraph about snow. The Famous Television Star whose idea of foreplay was to bark like he had four paws. Born-again Christian comedian Jack Whitney was some match for a Jewish actress. Instead of having the relationship we just sold the movie rights. Publicist Jay Kohn left me flat in the dunes of East Hampton. Elliot Lieberman, the photographer, changed his mind as fast as he changed his phobias. Arthur was probably my worst date...almost. A total no-show, he must have burst from anticipation. But it wasn’t all bad. Some frogs had great families. I pretended to be a shiksa to snare Dr. Alan Greenberg for a place at his seder table. And I really loved David’s dad. Jordy the Hollywood agent, put the La into LaLa Land, and eating with Bradley was a flavorful potpourri—his cheesecake a real delight! Then there was Roman. (Wistful.) Now he was a holiday. The cute Yaley stockbroker was transferred to Boston just as we were getting hot. So let’s look at these stories and count them like sheep. Then you tell me if it’s such a big deal. Maybe it’s not. Maybe you just have to kiss a lot of frogs.
Fifteen
“Jeremiah was a bullfrog—”
The song blasted through the theater after the show, the opening night party calling me to come on down. I was alone backstage but could hear the buzz down the hall like an electric current zipping its way towards the dressing room and coming to get me. I couldn’t wait to go, but first I needed to take this moment to congratulate my cast.
Staring h
ard, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked past the round lightbulbs and the makeup, to the woman underneath who was me. Me. Who stood on the stage alone for thirty-six minutes and performed her own one-person show to not just an appreciative audience, but an amazing one. An audience that hung on for the whole ride—laughing, crying and cheering me on.
“It’s Mommy, can I come in?”
I was excited that Millie had flown up from Florida to be here, but now that she was standing outside my dressing room door I suddenly wished she wasn’t. I got ready to face her with only just a little trepidation. When my mother usually came backstage I hoped she liked the show, and bought me as the character. But what was she going to buy me as now? After all these years, was I going to get called out on the carpet for going out with all those men?
I made a quick mental list of everything I talked about in the show that could be incriminating. The stuff about my father...should be okay. The stuff about my stepfather... would be okay. The stuff about her...could be okay. The stuff about sex...uh-oh. The stuff about sex was definitely not okay.
It suddenly occurred to me I had not thought this through!
I didn’t think my mother had ever known when I lost my virginity but she sure knew now, and I sure was in really big trouble. I was going to get grounded. I would be sent to my apartment and I would have to stay there for the next fifteen years and I wouldn’t be allowed to sleep with anybody. I wondered if the part where I paid tribute to my Judaism had been enough to redeem me.
“Karrie, I can’t believe it.” Millie opened the door and came towards me. I could hear her voice, but I wouldn’t look up.
“I’m sorry I never told you about doing a nude scene in a movie in college,” I blurted out to my mom. “But I mean, why would I tell you that? I didn’t think it was something I should tell you. You didn’t want me to tell you that. Did you? Did you want me to tell you?”
“Why would you tell me something that never happened?” asked Millie. She took a second to throw her arms around me. Then she broke away. “Listen to me, Karrie. You were great. Your show was great. And these days you have to have sex for something to sell. Danielle Steele does it. They all do it. I know it’s not true.”
I faced my mother.
“Ma,” I began, looking straight into her brown eyes. “You’re right. They all do it, but—” I paused for a long thoughtful moment. “It’s just a show! I mean, come on—it’s not like it’s my autobiography or anything,” I said, suddenly gaining confidence as I spit out each word. “And Fred said you have to do this sort of spin to make it more interesting. That’s what you have to do when you do these things. Embellish,” I said, as I did. However, my next thought was a little more than unnerving. “What if people do think it’s all true?”
“Who gives a shit what people think? If anyone wants to know what’s true you tell them everything and really give them something to talk about. Now, come on. Your friends are waiting for you down the hall.”
They sure were. Everyone cheered when I walked into the little theater that held the party. The tables were covered in green tablecloths, and a variety of different colored plastic frogs were scattered among the finger food. Starving, I smiled at everyone as I made a beeline to the buffet where I picked up a few squares of cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches.
Ryan called out for everyone’s attention.
“Hey, everybody! Thanks for coming out tonight. Let’s take this moment to congratulate everyone in MTW’s One-Act Fest. The whole evening was a big success, but tonight was also the debut of My Theater Workshop’s first ever solo show. Let’s hear it for Karrie Kline, who finally did something worthwhile with all those bad dates of hers. Way to go! And for Fred Grennon, who not only directed the piece, but also played a big part in its conception. Let’s not forget our staff and the crew who kept the whole thing running. So tell your friends, bring everyone down, and now...let’s party!”
I was completely elated as I looked around the room and saw the supportive, happy faces of Brooke and Mitch and Jane and William and Anne and Millie and...where was Fred? I couldn’t find Fred. Fred, the one I owed it all to. I had to find him, I thought, and was on my way to do just that when—pop!
A white flash of light popped in front of my eyes as if someone had just taken my picture. It really blurred my vision, because it seemed that standing in front of me was Elliot, the photographer, who I’d not been in touch with since the time we broke up.
“Hi,” he said, the halting and tentative quality of his voice reminding me that, indeed, it was him. “It’s funny running into you like this, Karrie. It’s been a while. But this is really, really weird for me. I mean, you were great up there, but I have to say I really didn’t appreciate all that stuff you said about me in your show. I was a nice guy—I was supportive of your career, why didn’t you say that? At least you said we had good sex. If you didn’t say that I don’t know what I would have done.
“But you made me sound so indecisive. Changed my mind as fast as I changed my phobias? And why did you say I eat pizza every day for lunch? I don’t eat pizza every day, I eat tuna. Tuna for lunch and bagel for breakfast. Though now I go to a diner every morning and sometimes I eat a muffin, but only blueberry, so if they’re out of that I have to get a bagel. Otherwise I have to get toast.”
I was so glad Elliot had filled me in. But Elliot was not finished.
“And I thought you liked it when I sang Broadway show tunes in the car?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I just said you sang off-key. That your conversation in the car was only to be alternated with your off-key singing of Broadway show tunes. Off-key is funny. I think it even got a laugh. It’s just a show, Elliot. You only served as an inspiration for the character. God it wasn’t Elliot Lieberman: The E! True Hollywood Story. So, hi back at ya. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“The publicist for your theater called me to come down and take pictures. I thought I’d surprise you, but the surprise was mine when the curtain went up. Jeez. Say cheese!”
He snapped away as I silently posed for a bunch of shots wondering who the heck the publicist was for the theater.
“Listen, can I call you? I’d like to see you again, Karrie, but I don’t want you to think anything will be different. I don’t want you to think anything won’t be, either. I mean, I think about you and I’d like to call, but I don’t want to... Well, I do, sort of. I just don’t know if I...can you help me out here?”
I was only trying to help myself out of this same conversation I had walked away from four years ago. And I was about to tell him when I was intercepted by Bradley? Ohmygod! There he was, in the flesh. It had been a decade since I’d had the delight of seeing him. But Bradley was suddenly before me; tall, real and handsome as ever.
“Hello after all these years,” he said, jotting notes into a small spiral pad while we spoke. “The publicist of your workshop called and invited me to come down, and when I heard it was you I did. My magazine has branched out to tell tourists not just where to eat, but what shows to see when they visit New York. I had no idea when I came down tonight that I would be in it. That was very sweet, I’ve never been immortalized in a show before,” he said to me while I looked at handsome him and wondered. Wondering if this was all business, and whether it could be more?
“You look well,” he continued. “Can I ask you just a few questions now, Karrie? I want to get this into the next issue. I’ll be brief because my fiancée is waiting for me at home,” said Bradley, answering my question while I continued to answer his. However, there was no time to sort out those feelings because another familiar froggy face suddenly appeared after Bradley’s departure.
“I can’t believe you remembered that I never gave you a ride back from the Hamptons!” said Jay Kohn, the publicist that left me behind in what was an almost-forgotten summer. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here?”
For someone to actually answer that question would be asking
a lot. I never expected my opening night party to turn into a segment of This Is Your Life.
“Ryan hired me to be the publicist for MTW,” Jay proudly announced. “And I’ve gotten a lot of people down tonight for my first shot,” he said. (I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I had dated half his media list.) “Hey, since I’m responsible for getting you so much coverage, could you do a little something for me?” asked Jay. “I was dating this woman for over a year and she kind of ended it, and I’m really, really upset and...I wonder if maybe I could pick your brain to see if I could get your take on it. See if you had any dating tips for me. I mean, since you’re a dating expert and all.”
“Dating expert? I’m an actress. When did I become a dating expert?”
And to prove my lack of expertise, my stomach tightened and the cavity in my chest hollowed out when I looked up to find myself facing Edward!
“My goodness! Edward Smith. How did you get here?”
“Well, BlueEyes, you never called me after I sent that last e-mail, and you disappeared from the J-Spot so I Googled you. There was a link that took me to the MTW site that led me here,” he said, his dark eyes piercing.
Next time a guy tells me he didn’t call because he lost my number I’ll have to remember this.