Dinner and a Show

Bill waits impatiently downstairs for Rita to finish getting dressed. "Honey, we gotta get a move on, they're gonna be here any minute." Upstairs Rita throws dress after dress onto the new linen duvet cover she just bought, to replace the old one which was robin's egg blue...why did she ever buy that blue one when she knew Bill would prefer the beige? Each dress is boxier than the last and Rita knows her legs aren't what they used to be. Plus springtime is such an awkward time for socializing, what with the weather changing at the drop of a hat. Perhaps a pants outfit. With a cardigan. Although Pat is sure to be wearing something bright and colorful...she always does when going to the theatre.
"Honey, the Smiths are here, gotta go gotta go!" Bill shouts up the carpeted staircase. Why does Rita always run late?
Rita descends the staircase in a pair of black slacks, a black blouse and a shortwaisted ivory jacket. She has curled her hair. She has put on new perfume. Her black and gold handbag matches the gold tassles on her black shoes to a tee. Bill sees her and says, "Go on ahead, I need to set the alarm."
Outside Roger and Pat Smith are waiting in their brand new Cadillac that Roger bought with his bonus. "Now that all the kids are gone, we can splurge on ourselves" he says whether people ask or not. Pat reapplies her bright red lipstick and they are silent. These silences have become nervously more comfortable lately. In between meeting and falling in love with Pat there has been thirty five years of kids, work, moving to a bigger house, moving to a smaller house, promotions, graduations, the affair, college funds, now grandchildren...for someone he's lived with so long he barely knows her at all, and maybe it's too late to catch up.
Pat knows she's wearing too much make up, "I only wear this much when we go to the theatre...you're allowed to be dramatic there!" she always says whether people ask or not. She knows Rita is too shy to ever draw that much attention to her own face, but she also knows that Rita is aware of that and wishes she could change it. This gives Pat a powerful edge. Tonight Pat has decided to wear her red suit. She saw Rita's face the last time she wore it out, and she needs that validation again tonight. Red suit, black hose, red pumps, brown leather purse and her hair neatly coiffed at the base of her neck. Upon seeing her earlier tonight Roger had managed to let forth an accidental, "Well...my." Which was higher praise than she'd received in ages, so she felt ready.
Bill and Rita lock the door behind them and make their way to the car. Along the way Rita notices some of Fitzy's chew toys have been left scattered in the front yard. She burns, did Pat see them? No, it's too dark. She ties an imaginary string around her finger to remind herself that she must snatch them up immediately upon returning tonight and not to let Fitzy play in the front anymore...only in the back.
"Hey there good man! Whaddaya know?" Roger says as he clumsily exits the car to shake Bills hand and kiss Rita's cheek. He opens the back door of the car and Rita takes her usual position. Bill goes around to the passenger side and begs Pat not to trouble herself. "Nonsense, you boys up front where we can keep an eye on you, plus then our conversations of golf scores and beauty salons won't get crossed!" And she pops effortlessly out of the front seat and into the back with Rita.
That Pat, what a wit. Rita can never think of things like that to say.
Pat grabs Rita's hand and beams mightily. "Don't you look adorable tonight!" she coos and crosses her legs. Rita shifts her eyes from Pat's legs to her own and feels a nostalgia deeper than she felt when her first son went off to college. Her legs had lost the sharp edges and defined contours of her youth and had become almost circular objects, a smooth slope across the knee from her thigh to her calf. Roger let's Bill and Rita know that their son Marty has just gotten a new job, and a new fiance. "More weddings, just what we need!" Pat mockingly laments. Rita sees how Bill is furiously searching for a subject change. Perhaps he would be less ashamed of his own son if he didn't bare the name Bill Jr.
"So, what's the show tonight?" Bill asks.
"What's it called again honey?" Roger asks.
"A Flea in Her Ear" Pat bellows from the back seat. She's always talking louder than she needs to, or perhaps Roger is losing his hearing. Either way, Rita finds the loudness of Pat's voice in combination with the title of the play a bit ironic and let's out a chuckle. Pat turns sharply to face Rita and beams again suddenly. "Yes, it's a comedy." She answers, although no one has asked.
At dinner Roger and Pat go on about their new big screen television and Roger explains to Bill the wonders of his new digital camera...this is the fifth digital camera, "Damn things keep breaking" while Pat leans in to explain to Rita that Roger has no clue how to work the things and breaks them himself. "Big hands" Pat says with a wink. "Gadgets" thinks Rita as she ties another make believe string around another chubby finger, "We need more gadgets around our house...it would be fun, and give us something to talk about at dinner." Why didn't Bill buy things like that? He's such a fuddy duddy, always so far behind on the times. Roger and Pat tell stories about their new lawn service, they pass around more pictures of their new grandson Hunter Skye, "If you were better with the email we could just send these to you!" Pat chirps. Roger laughs...he is enjoying seeing his wife alive and chatty instead of the glacier she is at home.
Bill is nervous about the time, plus he's allotting for the five minutes of war he is about to face with Roger over who pays the bill. It will of course be Roger, Bill could never afford a dinner like this...but the friendly battle is obligatory and the ladies will need to powder their noses and so they all polish off the rest of their wine and begin the meals traditional closing ceremonies.
In the restroom Rita concentrates only on not allowing herself to pass any audible gas as she "tinkles" and Pat reapplies her cherry red lipstick and informs Rita that life is never the same after Viagra. "I can't get him off me sometimes!" She laughs and bulges her eyes for effect. It's a down and out lie, although he needs it, neither she nor Roger would ever have enough courage to broach a subject as personal as Viagra with each other, plus after so many years without sex it seems pointless to try and reintroduce the subject into their marriage bed. But she takes comfort enough in knowing that Rita will not be able to enjoy the play as much since her mind will be racing with images of Rogers virile man-part and that she'll be steaming with jealousy over Pat's renewed love life. As the icing Pat adds, "Why, this is so embarrassing, but we even made love in the kitchen the other night. We're like a couple of kids! Ok, I'll be outside...take your time!" And she tosses her lipstick kissed paper towel into the trash and slips out the door as Rita gasps and accidentally releases her exhausted fart.
At the theatre they take their customary seats in the front row. Roger and Pat have season tickets. Relieved that they have all arrived on time and are in place and settled...Bill commences to studying who is advertising in the playbill and who the largest listed donors are. Unbelievable that people give that much money to a theatre he thinks, and almost says, until he spots Mr. and Mrs. Roger Smith on the list.
In the seats next to them sit a young girl wearing corduroy pants and a ponytail and her friend, a young man in jeans and a polo with the collar popped. Roger thinks the young man is probably gay and almost says so to Bill until he remembers Bill Jr.
Pat turns to Roger, "I don't understand, where do kids get this much money? We are always sitting next to these kids in their twenties in the front row." Delighted that his wife has chosen him to speak to privately about something other than his choice in sock color Roger grasps for straws. "I think they probably must have wealthy parents who buy them the tickets."
Rita's interests sway for a moment from her thoughts of the Smiths making hot love all over their goddamn house to the pair of twenty somethings sitting beside her. The twenty somethings giggle furiously, like children, but they also seem to know everyone. "I worked with this guy when I did that show here a few years ago" the guy says to the girl. "He's cute" says the girl. Rita smiles as the girl points to the patron donor list in the program and snickers, "Who are all these rich people donating to the theatre?" The twenty somethings recognize friends across the aisle, also in the front row...they all trade stories about what projects they are working on. Rita thinks it's a somewhat miniaturized version of the conversation from dinner. But far more interesting than gadgets and time shares. "I'm doing a show downtown/I'm the sub drummer but then I'm taking over full time as basest/ I just wrote a play, it's in production now/ etc etc etc" They jump all over each word, and for every name that gets mentioned they all cheer, "I love him! He's the greatest!" or "Ooh, I hear he's rough to work with" the conversation is interrupted by the dimming of the lights and the play begins.
Once Bill realizes that the actors are not going to stop speaking in riddles and affected language he dozes off. Roger watches stonily, he's learned from experience how to be an audience member and get work done in his head at the same time. With the exception of a few signatures he's pretty much got all tomorrows morning tasks finished. Pat laughs heartily with a one second delay. She waits to hear when the rest of the audience goes, and then she goes with them. Often she'll add a whispered, "What a stitch!" to prove that she understood the joke at hand. She finds that making predictions gives her the illusion of intelligence...attentiveness...so she turns often to Rita and mutters under her breath, "Oh...he's going to see him hiding in a minute." Who knows, perhaps Rita will even think that Pat has read the play...although Pat's not entirely sure how one would READ a PLAY.
All four of them burp a garlic chorus throughout the act which makes the twenty somethings snicker and shift in their seats.
At intermission the men stretch their legs and walk around the lobby questioning the construction of the set and whether or not the books in the bookcase on stage are real or not. "Pretty neat stuff" they say.
Pat excuses herself to go shmooze with the board president of the ladies auxiliary. Rita pages through the program. All those young faces. And some older ones too. How do they do it? They must not have marriages or mortgages or kids or front yards. How do they memorize all those lines?
A young man makes his way down to the front row. "Brooke!" he shouts, and the twenty something girl in corduroy pants swivels around, trained like a dog to respond to her name being shouted at an intermission. Rita catches her putting her face on before she turns around. "Hi Sweetie!" the twenty something girl grabs this guys hand and then the hand of her popped collar friend, who is likely a homosexual,and introduces them, using herself as some sort of energy conductor. "Ryan, this is Brannen, I think you've met. Ryan's my friend who gets us all the Lookingglass comps."
Rita swallows hard. She wishes Pat were here to listen to this conversation. Pat is in the habit of acting like it is some big treat to purchase theatre tickets when all these kids are out trading comps like Indian waumpaum to the biggest and best theatres in Chicago. They don't even dress up anymore, but...they do seem to be getting all the jokes.
After the play ends the twenty somethings all merge into one group and say with surprise, "It's only 10!! So early! Let's go out!" They seem to encounter more twenty somethings in the lobby and more hugs and kisses explode along with laughter and loud voices.
The drive back home is quieter. It's past Bill's bedtime and Roger concentrates on the road. Pat tries to explain some of the humor of the play to everyone though none of it needs explaining. As they pull up to the house Rita yawns and thanks them for a wonderful time. Pat bounces her hand on Rita's knee for a moment and promises the recipe that she was talking about at dinner...she also looks Rita squarely in the eyes and loudly says, "Don't forget our little chat!" and Rita smiles and points a shame shame finger at Pat, though she has absolutely no idea what she's talking about.
Pat returns to the front seat and thanks Bill for giving her a break from her old husband at the wheel for a night. What a wit.
As they pull away, Roger thinks maybe he'll give this talking thing another go. Pat seems to have really enjoyed the play, maybe that's the in...
"So what did you think of that scene where..."
"Do we have any Rolaids in this glove box?"
"We should"
"Here they are."
Pat eats a Rolaid.
"Got one for me?" asks Roger.
"Sorry, that was the last one." Says Pat.
They continue to drive in silence, the smell of dinner wafting through the car from their take home boxes and from their mouths.
Bill and Rita enter their house and Bill deals with the alarm. Rita imagines the twenty somethings all sitting together at a bar, laughing and talking about the play. When you are that young, your memories are closer to you...and more clear, easier to pull up and share with others. That's why twenty somethings are always talking, always laughing all the time and telling each other stories. Because it's all right there. Rita looks at her hand, her wedding ring swollen on as though it were a part of her body, and nothing more. She mentally unties the reminder string on her finger that says, "Buy Beige Duvet" and carefully hangs up her tornado of unchosen outfits from earlier. She changes into a floral flannel nightgown and turns on the Tonight Show. Bill plows into the bed moments later mumbling a sincere, "Well, that was a fun night we had, see you in the morning." And though he slept through most of the show he has no problem falling right to sleep.
A few hours later Rita awakes with an unsettled feeling in her stomach, maybe it was all the rich appetizers from dinner. She searches for the remote to turn off the infomercial that can barely be heard over Bill's rhythmic snoring. She goes downstairs and makes herself a cup of hot tea. While stirring in some honey she looks at her fingers, ah yes...that's what is troubling her. Rita goes outside in her flannel nightgown with a flashlight and gathers up all of Fitzy's chew toys from the yard. Thank goodness she remembered before daylight. She reenters the house, resets the alarm and makes her way back to bed.

Or, at least that's probably the deal with the lady sitting next to me last night at "A Flea in her Ear" who kept burping garlic.