First Fifty Club

The last meeting of the First Fifty Club

A play based on the problem of mid-life crisis

 The Last Meeting of

The First Fifty Club

By:

Gerardine Clark

Setting: The large kitchen/casual dining area of a large modern home, the patio in front of it and the walkways on either side of the house. The dining area is SL. The table, which runs from left to right, is beautifully but unostentatiously set for six. The kitchen area is located USR to C almost completely surrounded by appliances and counters except for an walk-through on the Dr corner. The stove should be located in the downstage counter area so the chef is facing downstage when he cooks. There is a drinks table  in the DR corner of the kitchen. It holds an oddly assorted set of offerings--a bottle of good red wine, already open, a quart of Dewar's, a quart of Maker's Mark, lemon peel, an ice bucket and tongs, two rocks glasses, a Pilsener glass, and a martini glass. An enormous tray of various appetizers, including mixed nuts, cheese straws, and crudités. Four stools are located on two sides of the kitchen area. Immediately to SL of the cooking area is a swinging door leading to the front of the house. DL is a door in the side wall leading out onto the patio.

Characters:

Larry Daniels  the first of his friends to turn fifty

Laura Daniels

Barbara (Bunny) Crane

Andy Crane

Norma Solomon

Jake Solomon

ACT ONE, Scene One

Larry and Laura are in the kitchen. James Taylor's Greatest Hits album is playing softly on the downstairs speakers. Larry is standing at the stove, where broth for the risotto he is about to prepare is warming. He is wearing an ironed, unstained pin-striped apron.  All the ingredients for Rissotto con Aparege are arranged on the counter to his left except for the asparagus which he has just blanched.  As the lights come up he takes the steaming pot to the sink to drain the asparagus in a colander. Steam swirls up around his face. He is smiling. During the course of the first scene he prepares the recipe which takes approximately 40 minutes. He drinks occasionally from a large bottle of Pellegrino--this is all he drinks until the toast at the dinner table. The recipe is included at the end of the play. Laura is at the table trying to complete swan-folds on the napkins. She refers occasionally to printed directions, culled from the internet. She has a large glass of red wine from which she occasionally sips. It is her first glass but not her last.  She is a handsome woman, especially for one rapidly closing in on fifty.  She is not smiling.

LARRY

(Tasting one of the asparagus stalks.) Mm. Mm. Mmmmmm. Perfect! 

LAURA

Naturally.

LARRY

What?

LAURA

I just mean that you always organize your dinners like a . . . you're doing brain surgery.  No tolerance for error. If the asparagus weren't perfect you'd have already started blanching the back-up bunch in the fridge. But you never need it, do you? Every time you make Risotto con Asparege we have braised asparagus the next day.

LARRY

Do I make the risotto too often?

LAURA

No, Larry! Probably not more than twice a year--I just mean you don't cook anything for the club that you don't cook perfectly.

LARRY

What are you doing?

LAURA

Setting the table. What? Didn't I finish all my sous chef duties?

LARRY

No, I mean why are you doing that to the napkins? 

LAURA

I thought I'd try to do something a little  . . . make a personal contribution to the occasion.

LARRY

Lor?

LAURA

Kidding! (Pause.) I'm just nervous. I want something to do with my hands till they come to keep from wanting to smoke. 

LARRY

You still want . . .

LAURA

Yes! Even after two years. I will always want . . . When the doctor tells me I have terminal lung cancer I will go the grocery, and get five cartons. Nothing left to lose.

LARRY

But why swans?

LAURA

I saw this on one of those food network things. I Googled napkin folding and do

you know that ten pages came up? I got this from the website of the Guild of Professional Butlers.  Do you believe that?  Not only are there still professional butlers, but they have a guild and a website.

LARRY

Lor?

LAURA

I'm sorry! I know I'm chattering. Or should that be nattering? Or wittering?

LARRY

Lor!

LAURA

All right! I wish we weren't doing this! I wish we had skipped this month. It's going to be weird. I mean, Rachel was the only one I ever felt particularly close to. I know we couldn't invite her without Rob. Or Rob without her. And we certainly couldn't invite her and Rob. 

LARRY

Didn't you go to lunch with her just the other day? 

LAURA

No, I know. I saw her Wednesday. At Regalbuto's.

LARRY

How was it?

LAURA

The house merlot was slightly corked and the pasta was not al dente.

LARRY

That's not what I  . . .

LAURA

I know, I know. I couldn't tell. She's talking a good game. She got her hair cut. REAL short. She's thinking of getting a tattoo. Or going back to college.  She says Dr. Phil advises making this a growth opportunity”. But she drank a double Scotch at lunch and her eyes were red when she came back from the john.

LARRY

Did she say anything about . . .

LAURA

The son-of-a- biscuit eater?

LARRY

What?

LAURA

That's what she calls Rob now.You know she doesn't swear--that's the closest I've ever heard her come.  Have you talked to him?

LARRY

No.

LAURA

Really?

LARRY

Men do not confide embarrassing secrets or depend on each other for consolation.

LAURA

Oh, I see. Then you didn't know that he . . .

LARRY

Had a new . . . interest?

LAURA

Yes.

LARRY

No!  Do you really think I wouldn't have told you?

LAURA

Like you tell me all your secrets. (Pause.) Larry gives her a brief glance and turns away.)  To be fair, if it were Rachel doing it I wouldn't have told you.

LARRY

What's this? Some esoteric female loyalty code I've never heard of? You like to say you always tell me everything.

LAURA

Everything that concerns you. That's part of the marriage contract. However, if she . . . had a new interest . .  . I'd hope that it would pass--she'd come to her senses and everything could go back to being the way it was.  If I told you there wouldn't have been any going back.

LARRY

Why? Do you think I'd tell him? 

LAURA

No, but if you had known, every time you saw her she would see it on your face. Even if they stayed together they'd have had to leave the club. She couldn't have faced your face month after month.

LARRY

Why do you keep calling us a club?

LAURA

You'd prefer alliance or  . . . guild?

LARRY

You're still learning a word a day, aren't you.

LAURA

I like the illusion of progress. OK, OK. Of course we're a club. We have monthly meetings. We belong to the same demographics.  We were approximately the same ages when the Vietnam War ended and Elvis and John Lennon died.  We made love when we were young to the same music Their Golden Oldies are our Golden Oldies. We are, in many ways, closer than siblings. We enjoy each other's jokes. We give each other the illusion of belonging to a community.  I

LARRY

Illusion?

LAURA

Well, it's not a real community. We come from different parts of the country, have no births or deaths in common except celebrities'. We're a club of aging urban expatriates.  We like each other, but we don't love each other. If one of us dies, or gets divorced or is transferred to another city we will be briefly sad and regretful but soon we'll find replacements to round out our numbers. Of course it goes without saying that we're a couples club.  If one goes, both go, whether they want to or not.

LARRY

And we're back to Rachel. Maybe if they do . . . stay apart, we could invite her to come with a friend. 

LAURA

And what about him and his friend?

LARRY

I don't think that would be possible. Too uncomfortable.

LAURA

Because he was part of a different “them” and it was his “fault”? Well, even if she didn't leave him, it would be just as uncomfortable. Because it might be catching. No one wants to be reminded of how fragile relationships are.

LARRY

Come on! You don't really believe that!

LAURA

Yes, Larry, I do! And growing more brittle with age. Two months ago they were just like us. If someone had asked if it could happen to them we would have laughed. Now we can't. That's why I'm folding napkins. I wanted to do something to deemphasize the fact that there's one less leaf in the table this month. Oh, screw this! I'm never going to fold six napkins that look remotely like swans. This one's more like a ruptured duck.  Where does that expression come from?  What does it mean?

LARRY

I haven't a clue. Listen, Lor, I think there's something I think I should tell you before they get here. (Doorbell sounds).

LAURA

Saved by the bell. (Pause.) And so it begins! (She starts to leave.) 

LARRY

You told them no presents, didn't you?

LAURA

Of course, but given the event I wouldn't count on Andy to pay attention. You know he can't pass up the opportunity for a good gag gift. (She leaves through the swinging doors.)

----

(Offstage sounds of door opening, greetings, laughter. During the pause before Jake enters, Larry’s face settles into unaccustomed lines of worry. In a few minutes when Jake comes in his face smoothes out into the slight smile with which they are all so familiar.)  

JAKE

And there’s the Iron Chef in his accustomed place. What’s on the bill of fare tonight?

LARRY

Well, you can smell the risotto but I think I’ll keep the rest a secret. You know I prefer the revelation of a course by course presentation. 

JAKE

Have we had any of the dishes before?

LARRY

Only the risotto. 

JAKE

(Helping himself  to a drink—short glass, three cubes of ice, Maker’s Mark.) You know this is the best meal I get every month. I look forward to it for days. Sometimes, I’m working in the lab and I realize I’m day-dreaming about menus.

LARRY

I don’t cook every month.

JAKE

Lately, more often than not. I bet we haven’t gone to other houses more than three or four times in the last year.  No matter whose turn it is we somehow wind up here.  It’s your birthday and yet here you are cooking.

LARRY

Why is that, do you think?

JAKE

(Helping himself to mixed nuts. He may put some on a small plate in order to come over and sit at the counter.)  We’re all doing you a favor. 

                                                                   LARRY

What?

                                                                   JAKE

We know how much you like to cook. Andy and I can’t cook and after twenty-five years the women we married no longer enjoy it . . .  if they ever did, and none of them likes having their talents compared to yours.

LARRY

Oh, come on.

JAKE

No, Norma said so, the last time it was our turn. I asked why she had told you we were having the living room redecorated that week when they weren’t due to start till after Saturday. She said Bunny and Rachel had told her that they had made excuses and that you were only too happy to do it.

LARRY

I guess I was. So, they were doing me a favor.

JAKE

I doubt their reasons were quite so altruistic. None of us married women who enjoy entertaining. 

LARRY

Then why . . . ?

JAKE

 . . . belong to the dinner a month club? Because we like each other’s company. It’s worth the tsuris every four months for the pleasure. And if you’d just as soon entertain . . . well . . .  You know you should at least stick us with the bills for food and drink.

LARRY

Oh, all your wives offered. I turned them down. I don’t golf. I’d rather do this. So, how’s the research going?

JAKE

Oh, just great! I have a well-equipped lab and two eager grad students at my beck and call. What more could I want?

LARRY

What’s the matter, Jake.

JAKE

I’ve been working on the same problem for years—since before the first Gulf War. I was making steady progress and then, suddenly I was making big progress. Now it just turns out that I’ve spent all those years riding the wrong horse.

LARRY

But I thought your work was getting all kinds of attention . . . Your  . . .  I’ve forgotten the word.

JAKE

Adjuvants. Ad . . . a chemical that multiplies the effect of vaccines.  I specialize in adjuvants.  I’ve created a couple that are used in pharmaceutical manufacture.  I was getting a lot of attention after nine-eleven. I was working on an anthrax adjuvant.  Even before we went to Afghanistan the lab was running twenty-four-seven. I slept there more nights than I was home. We were gearing up for war. Weapons of mass destruction, and anthrax was right at the top of the biologicals list. And we had an effective adjuvant. 

LARRY

So, what happened? 

JAKE

Well.  The first waves of soldiers were taking the vaccine before shipping out and then suddenly there were suspected side effects. Who knows if it was the vaccine, the adjuvant, interaction with other vaccines. Whatever. Fighter pilots suddenly refused to take the vaccine. A couple even risked court martial. So the vaccinating stopped. We weren’t deterred. We stepped up testing. Then—no weapons of mass destruction. No anthrax. 

LARRY

So, anthrax poisoning is still a threat isn’t it? Iran. North Korea.

JAKE

Stop trying to cheer me up. Of course it’s still a threat. But it’s not a serious enough threat to continue applications for research. I’ve been working on a couple with possible effects in cancer pharma but . . . But it’s not sexy. A cancer cure or even a treatment.  But, just an adjuvant? And I’m just another aging professor who doesn’t like to teach, with a research subject that only attracts marginal grad students.

LARRY

I’ve never heard you talk like this. I thought you loved your work. I didn’t know it was celebrity you were looking for.

JAKE

No, you don’t get it. I don’t want the Nobel. I just wanted my life’s work to finally amount to something important. Something meaningful, even life-saving. (Pause.)  Besides, something happened this week.

LARRY

What?

JAKE

The university named my wife Scholar-Teacher of the year.

LARRY

That’s great! Just great! I mean, it is great, isn’t it?

JAKE

Of course it’s great! She’s a great teacher. But now suddenly she’s the scholar of the family too. When I married her she was in a soft science--Psychology, which begat behavioral psych, which begat Cognitive Science. I thought it was kind of cute. She was like the continual undergraduate, flitting from discipline to discipline. Then she does a few fMRI experiments on gender differences in brain structure, writes a handful of papers for a flock of new scholarly publications—I mean the field is hardly twenty years old.  And suddenly she’s got the future by the tail and I’m a has-been.

LARRY

Oh, come on  . . .

JAKE

I know! Petty, petty, petty! But the kicker is, she thinks it’s funny! She doesn’t think of herself as a traditional scholar or a scientist. She’s a teacher! She only does research to stay relevant to her students. And most of them are undergraduates!

LARRY

Well, it is kind of . . .

JAKE

Oh, I know! It’s pathetic! I’m pathetic! Until they made the announcement at the Senate meeting I didn’t even know I felt this way! It’s appalling. I’m professionally jealous of my wife.

LARRY

Have you told her?

JAKE

Are you nuts?!? Of course not. I told her I couldn’t be happier.  I took her out for dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town  . . .the one in the new Hilton? I had booked a room for the night, had a chilled bottle of Cristal sent up, undressed her and made celebratory love to her.

LARRY

OK, wayyyyy too much information.

JAKE

No, you don’t get it. While she’s thinking it’s the most romantic thing I’d ever done, I’m thinking, “I got hosed, now you get hosed.” I make me sick!

LARRY

Jeeze, Jake, shut up! She’ll be in here any moment!

JAKE

Nah, Laura’s ostensibly showing her the newest acquisitions.

LARRY

Ostensibly?

JAKE

I figure they’re really chewing over the Rob situation.

LARRY

Why are you telling me all this?

JAKE

You’re a good listener. No, I mean it! You listen almost as good as you cook. Besides, who else am I going to tell?  I walked in and suddenly I felt like if I didn’t get this off my chest I’d die. I can’t sleep. I can hardly work. I feel like a phony every time I look at my wife. I smile. I tell all our friends about the good news. I accept my colleagues’ congratulations, presumably for the reflected glory. I don’t know who I am anymore.  I never knew I could have these thoughts.

LARRY

I don’t know what to say to you.

JAKE

I don’t need you to say anything. I’ve said it all to myself. Twice. Now that I’ve said it to you, maybe I can stop thinking about it. I mean you are my best friend. (He catches a look of surprise quickly crossing Larry’s face.) Of course I’m not sure what that means anymore. I guess I mean I can tell you what I can’t tell anyone else.

LARRY

You mean things you can’t tell Norma.

JAKE

I see what you mean. I guess until now Norma’s been my best friend. But how can I tell her what I just told you when what I told you is all about her.

LARRY

Is it?

JAKE

Sure. You’re right. It’s not about her at all. It’s about me. But it’s a me I don’t want her to know exists inside my head. 

(During the last moments the swinging door has been opened by Norma who follows it in.  She is a pleasant looking woman, not particularly large or particularly attractive, but she has a maternal quality that makes her instantly appealing.)

NORMA

What about your head?

JAKE

I was saying that . . . I don’t have much of a head for alcohol any longer. I’d better go easy on this stuff.

NORMA

While my head is just fine. I’ll drink your share.

JAKE

Did you lose Laura?

NORMA

She saw Bunny and Andrew coming up the walk. I thought I’d come in here for a little fortification before I faced them.

LARRY

Faced them?

NORMA

Don’t get me wrong—I like them both very much but they are just so indefatigably upbeat and cheerful. They make me feel like an old poop. I’m hoping a couple of inches of excellent hooch will suitably liberate my mood.

JAKE

Well, I’ve had my fortification so I’ll go join them.

NORMA

I warn you, she was just starting to explain the new painting.

JAKE

I’d better hurry. I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t understand it.