by Stan Rogal
Maddie, that is just so not true. It is true, Jonathan. Is not. Is. Maddie, honey, I never said that. Johnny, sweetie, you did. I’m sure I didn’t. I’m sure you did. Why would I say that? Exactly. Why. Because I didn’t, that’s why. But you did. You did. I don’t believe it. I’m telling you. I didn’t. You did. Honey … Sweetie … sweetie … you did, you did, you really did … OK, OK, I give up. Have it your way.
He pulls at his face and smells his breath in a cupped hand.
Maddie, Maddie, Maddie. Darling. What the hell are we doing? I mean, really? We both thought it would be a good idea. Remember? I seem to recall it was more your idea. You said it was worth a try. Yeah, well, I think I’ve changed my mind. Haha. A bit late for that. You’re not having second thoughts? You wouldn’t agree to see a marriage counsellor. C’mon love. What do I keep saying? We don’t need a marriage counsellor. We can work things out on our own. Other people do. A little give and take, that’s all. Uh-huh.
Maddie adjusts the position of her breasts by tugging at her dress straps.
Besides, marriage counsellors are as screwed up as the next guy, maybe more so.
Oh, and you know this because …? It just makes sense. Anyone who’d want a job listening to couples bitch and complain all day long has to be a bit … you know …
Jonathan twirls a finger around his ear.
It’s not normal. Johnny, honey, we need to involve a third party; someone outside the situation; someone without a vested interest; someone neutral. The situation? Baby, what situation? We’re going through a rough patch, that’s all. It happens to everyone. We’re no different. It’ll pass.
Maddie bends into the mirror and pops her painted lips.
If we ignore it. I didn’t say that. You didn’t have to. It’s your way. My “way”? Jonathan uses his fingers as quotes.
What the hell does that mean? My “way”? The knocking sound in the car, says Maddie. Oh, c’mon. The leak in the bathroom. Totally different issues altogether. Your brother, when he told you … OK, OK … and you let it go … OK, yes, you’re right. … until it was too late … All right, all right. You win. I dropped the ball on that one. I admit it. Jeez. Gimme a break. You’d think someone died or something. Besides, what was I supposed to do? Exactly. You see? Excuses. We need to talk. Oh, you mean you need to talk. All right, I need to talk. But that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? You refuse to talk about anything. Oh, c’mon, that’s not fair. I talk about things. Not the important things.
Maddie straightens. The two speak to each other eye to eye in the mirror.
Honey, I do. Sweetie, you don’t. Baby, I do. You don’t. I do. Johnny, you don’t. You never do. Maddie, you’re wrong, I absolutely do. I’m telling you, sweetie, you don’t. You never talk. OK, can we drop this? Can we? Please?
Jonathan straightens his tie, strikes a pose and flashes his pearly whites.
How do I look?
Maddie twists her mouth, makes with the hard glare.
You see, sweetie pie? You refuse to talk.
She spins, gives his hair a swipe, spins back to pull at her own hair.
You look fine; terrific. I feel like a monkey in a freaking circus about to perform. How did you find out about this pod-cast thing in the first place? Vicki. Vicki? Figures. You don’t like Vicki. Not that I don’t like her. A bit too New Age, airy-fairy, Dr. Phil, for me. That’s all. Oho, and when did you ever watch Dr. Phil? Don’t need to, darling. Baby, you wouldn’t know Dr. Phil if he shit in your shoe. Haha. Right. Pretty weird though, a reality show that feeds from a camera in the comfort of your own home. How does that work? Magic.
Maddie’s eyes widen and she throws her hands in the air. She goes back to her compact and lipstick.
I’m serious. So am I. I really don’t know. I called a number. Someone came over, set up the equipment, gave me instructions, left. They make a lot of money with this? Jonathan, I don’t know; I don’t care. It’s a fair question. All I know is there’s a waiting list of people who want to be on the show and — according to Vicki — we were damn lucky to be chosen. Yeah, I bet there’s a waiting list. Crazy people everywhere dying to be on camera. Jonathan; sweetie.
She drops her arms to her sides and visibly sags. Jonathan places his hands on her waist and kisses the top of her head.
Sorry, honey. You checked out the program? Due diligence and all that? Once. And? It was fine. No great shakes. I mean, it’s like TV, only, on computer. What do you expect? Anyway, it’s a start. Fine. Fine. Anyway, I don’t refuse to talk, baby, I refuse to argue. There’s a big difference. Christ, I’m getting a headache already and we haven’t even started. You’re overreacting. I’m not overreacting. A headache. Here. Between the eyes. Do you want an aspirin?
She fishes in her purse. Jonathan squints a baby face.
Aspirin upsets my stomach.
Maddie snaps the purse shut and stamps a foot.
It’s always the same. Anytime I want to talk, you get a headache. That’s not true. It is. It isn’t. Honey, it is. Sweetie, it isn’t. It is. Every single time. Honey, that’s just not true. It is so true. Every time I want to talk. Baby … You get a goddamn headache. Ohhhhh! Fine, fine. Here we go. Fine. Let’s go hang out our dirty laundry in front of a bunch of total strangers. Fine. Why not?
Maddie takes a breath and releases a long sigh.
Johnny, I wish you wouldn’t be this way. Can’t you look at this more as a forum for discussion? Something positive?
She relaxes, pokes at the air with her lipstick; speaks as if reciting from an article she’s read.
Studies have shown that it’s good to get things out in the open and that, in fact, it’s easier to talk in front of strangers about personal problems than to people you know or love since you feel less judged by them. There’s hard data. And, in this case, the strangers aren’t even here — they’re out in la-la land somewhere. All we have to do is talk. There’ll be some kind of survey at the end, that’s it. Besides, it might be fun. We might learn something about each other that we didn’t know before.
Jonathan brushes invisible dandruff from his dress jacket. He almost whispers.
Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. What does that mean? Nothing, darling. No, sweetie, I’m curious. What? Nothing. Uh-huh? Oh, it just means there’s probably enough to deal with already — stuff we already know — without bringing up something new. That’s all. Hmm. I see. What’s the time?
Jonathan checks his watch.
Almost. I could use a drink right now. Uh-huh. I could use a cigarette. You should think about quitting. Seriously. Look who’s talking.
She pokes his belly with a finger.
You’re getting a beer belly. Too many liquid lunches and not enough exercise. Hey, don’t you recognize love handles when you see them? Oh, that’s what you call them, huh?
She tickles him, reaches around behind, grabs his ass and feigns a bit of sex, doggie-style.
And you don’t use a tack hammer to drive a spike, is that how it works? Uh-uh-uh … Haha. Nice try, buster. OK, OK, cut it out already.
Jonathan pushes away, turns his back to Maddie, hikes his dress jacket and tries to check himself out in the mirror.
You think my ass is getting big? I’m joking. Your ass is fine. It’s perfect. Perfect? Perfect. You look very handsome. Thank you for doing this. It means a lot to me. It does. Umm. You don’t find the whole thing slightly embarrassing; a bit pathetic, even? I mean … I think it’s important. For both of us. Really. OK. I suppose.
She nuzzles his neck with her nose and slips her feet into a pair of black pumps. C’mon. Cheer up.
She crosses the floor to the couch and sits. She motions Jonathan to join her. He straightens his jacket.
I’m glad one of us is enjoying this. Oh … what the hell. Let’s knock ‘em dead. Thank Christ this program’s only local.
He picks up the remote on the way and checks out the equipment. Maddie plays with the hem of her dress.
It is only on loc
al, right? That’s what you told me? Low budget.
Maddie smiles, shrugs, bounces on her toes. Jonathan moans; sits.
Great. Just great. Is it time? Yeah, it’s time. We’re on.
Jonathan hits the remote. The theme song kicks in: Love Is Strange. The song fades. The two stare at the monitor for a moment, unsure as to how to begin. They look around awkwardly. Maddie glares at Jonathan.
Well?
Jonathan waves the remote at the screen.
I thought there might be a host of some sort. On the screen. I already told you there wouldn’t be. Not a ‘host’ exactly; a voice-over or something; an introduction. No. I wrote everything out for you. Didn’t you read it? I looked at it. You looked at it? Do you still have it? Yeah, yeah, I still have it. Right here.
He snaps open a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket, grins and speaks toward the camera.
Sorry about that. It wasn’t made clear to me I thought it was pretty clear. I found it clear. I found it a bit confusing, myself. I found it very clear. What part was confusing to you, sweetie? Doesn’t matter, honey. I’ve got it now. If you were confused, darling, why didn’t you ask? I’ve got it. Look — here it is. There’s an opening blurb, yes? Written? Yes, there’s an opening blurb. I just wasn’t sure … that’s all. Under control now. We’re on … y’know? I know we’re on. I know. Um, hi and welcome to the new reality program, Love Is Strange, the show where couples going through crisis come together to share their thoughts, ideas and ‘feelings’ to an internet audience.
He re-folds the paper and taps it against his knee. He glances at Maddie.
Y’know, darling, I wouldn’t say we’re going through a “crisis”, exactly. No, sweetie? Not exactly. Not yet. Not yet? OK, right, so … OK, we might as well begin. Umm …
He rubs his forehead with the palm of his hand, the hand holding the paper.
Oh, crap. What is it now? I’m trying to remember the order. I wrote it down for you. It’s all there. No need to shout at me. Honey. I’m not shouting. Sweetie. I’m simply saying. You don’t have to remember it. You can read it. It’s introductions first, yes? Where we each introduce ourselves. I know it’s introductions first. That makes sense. I’m not a complete idiot. I never said you were. No? No. I wasn’t sure, that’s all. I see. Do you? Not really. Uh-huh. Did you want to do the honours?
He makes a sweeping gesture with the paper and dangles it in front of Maddie. The pair catch each other peripherally, keeping their main focus on the camera.
You go ahead. You’re sure? Yes. OK. Sure. Sure, I can start. No problem. It’s only the introduction. No, that’s fine, love. I’ll start. Hi everyone.
Jonathan stops and laughs. He half-turns to Maddie.
I feel like I’m supposed to say: Hi. My name is Jonathan and I’m an alcoholic. If the shoe fits … Haha, very funny. You’re the one who said it. Let’s forget it, OK? OK? OK. Hi, my name is Jonathan Edwards …
Maddie lets out a snort.
Right. What? Your name is Jonathan Edwards. Yeah, so? All I’m saying. All you’re saying is what? That … your name … My name? Wasn’t … always … Wasn’t always what? Jonathan Edwards. Are you kidding me? All I’m saying. That was my dad’s doing, not mine. He made the change. I had nothing to do with it. You went along with it. I was a kid. A goddamn kid. I had no say in the matter. None. You could’ve changed it back. You had no problem changing your name when we got married. That was then. Things are different now. Oh, that’s right. Maddie’s re-discovering her roots; her Greek heritage. She thinks she’s descended from royalty or something; or, no, a long line of goddesses. Isn’t that right, darling? No need to get nasty, cupcake. Who’s getting nasty here? The first words out of my mouth and you’re already at me. Lots of people change their names and for different reasons. My dad was trying to start a new business in a new country and he figured Dmitrios Anagnostopoulos was just too much of a mouthful. It’s that simple. I don’t know why you want to make such a big deal out of it. It’s just a name. A rose is a rose is a rose … Is that it? Shall I go on, or what?
Maddie shrugs. Jonathan clicks his tongue and gives his neck a crack.
OK. I’m thirty-two years old, my family’s in the seafood industry … They’re fishermen. Fine, they’re fishermen. Nothing wrong with that. Never said there was. Just wanting to be clear. Uh-huh. My dad also has a seafood shop in Kensington Market. Small, but it brings in a buck or two. As for me, I own and operate a company called Minotaur Investments … Which belonged to my father and which I brought Jonathan into … and which eventually I took over and turned into a success after your father almost drove it into the ground. He was old, he couldn’t keep up. Be that as it may … Fine. I’ll give the devil his due … Thank you. Thank you very much. I don’t see you suffering. What else? What else? That’s it. Us? Oh yeah. Of course. Goes without saying. Maddie and I have been together for … what? … nine years and married for three of those nine. Correct? OK, love, your turn.
Jonathan leans back in the couch and stretches his arms along the back. Maddie composes herself by drumming her fingers on her closed knees.
Thank you. My name is Maddie … umm, Madeleine Edwards, née Kronos. I’m thirty-four years old and I formerly helped manage my father’s company until he retired and Jonathan took over the reins. At that point, Jonathan decided it didn’t befit his position as the new president to have me working, and so, I was relegated to the position of “wife” of the president of Minotaur Investments … Wait a minute, wait a minute! Whoa! We talked about this.
Jonathan insinuates himself forward and fidgets his clasped hands across his thighs. He taps his thumbs together.
We did. You said you were bored; you wanted to try something different; something that better suited you and your interests; your … talents … Umm. That’s true. He’s right. I was bored. The business had changed; had grown larger; become less personal and more dependent on technology. Computers and so on. Lawyers. Bankers. And accountants. My God, accountants.
They both laugh in agreement at this. Jonathan rolls back and stretches out.
I was not even vaguely interested on any level. Jonathan, however, leapt in with both feet until there was less and less for me to do. Hey — why work if you don’t have to? Am I right? Or am I wrong? Sweetheart? Darling … you think playing “hostess” to a bunch of shallow, idiotic, two-faced stuffed shirts and their Stepford Wives isn’t work? Honey, they’re not that bad. They’re not. Be nice, smile, serve some drinks, a few canapés — they’re happy. How hard can it be? Totally boring, self-centred and without any redeeming qualities. Bottom feeders. There are worse things. True. As I was to find out … Maddie, sweetheart … don’t. Fine. I won’t. What’s next on the list, honey?
Jonathan snaps the paper open, shrugs towards the camera and reads.
Well, darling, it’s hobbies. Seems safe enough. I don’t have a lot of time for hobbies, really, though I like to watch some sports on TV. Football, baseball, mainly. I played ball when I was younger In fact, I almost made Triple A as a shortstop, except, I had a trick knee. Oh, don’t be so modest Jonathan … you’re still a bit of a ball player, aren’t you? Trick knee or not. I mean, you like to toss the old pigskin around now and again. Yeah, I guess. When I have the time. With a few of the guys. What about you, Maddie? Any hobbies?
Maddie smiles and grows animated with the topic.
I enjoy gardening. I’m very into growing my own vegetables and herbs. I’m also going through an intense period of self-discovery and re-evaluation at the present moment; taking classes, keeping a personal journal, jotting down ideas, dreams; writing small poems, songs, that sort of thing. Uh-huh. And she’s also learning to read auras. People’s auras.
He gives his hands a fingers a vague shake.
With Vicki, right honey?
He glances at Maddie to see if she’s going to say something. She doesn’t. He purses his lips, like: whatever, and nods.
Cool. OK, next item is: What is the mos
t positive aspect of our relationship? Umm. OK, I would say, the life we’ve built together. You mean: lifestyle, sweetie. Whatever. You? The sex.
Jonathan is caught by surprise.
In the beginning. Lately, so-so. Work has been crazy these days. You wouldn’t believe … No excuses. Next item. Least positive aspect.
Jonathan makes a weak attempt at a joke.
Notice how nobody wants to say the word “negative” anymore? “Least positive”. Gimme a break. Ha! Yeah, that’s hilarious. OK, OK. Least positive? The fact that Maddie doesn’t understand the pressures I’m under and doesn’t appreciate the amount of time and work that’s necessary to run a successful business these days. That’s two aspects. They tie together. Your turn. Least positive, I guess — and there are several — is that, while you have plenty of time for your business, you have no time for me; for us.
Jonathan leans and turns his full attention to the camera. In fact, they try to outdo each other for the spotlight.
I have time for you. You don’t. I do. You don’t. Sweetie, I do. No, honey, you don’t. Yes, I do. No, you don’t. That’s not fair. I do. You do not. You have no time. I have time. I do. You never have time. Never. You’re always busy. Baby … No, sweetie, you never do. OK, OK. Always need the last word. And what time you do have, you prefer to share with other women.
Jonathan drops his jaw and wraps his hands behind his head. Maddie’s hands flutter the air.
Christ. C’mon … we’ve been through this. Do you deny it? Once. One time. I admitted it then, I admit it now. In front of witnesses. It was a weak moment. It was a mistake. Too much to drink. I apologized. I’m only human. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. What more do you want from me? Once? One time? One woman?
She stares at Jonathan who stares back and offers a resolute nod. He crosses his heart with his thumb. She shrugs.