15 August 2015

Banishing Gerald

NANCY is middle-aged, British. She's dressed in a velour track suit while wearing too much jewelry, too much makeup, and too much hair. We come in mid-conversation as she chats on the phone.
And he says to me—get this—as he's unpacking, he says, 'You've ruined my best shirt!' So I says, 'How's that when you've only just taken it out of the suitcase? I haven't even touched it.' He holds it up and there it is, a bit of lipstick, and it's not even my shade! You know I wear Twig, and this one is Frosted Rose plain as day . . . Damn right only tarts wear frosted lippy. I've never, and I said so. You should've seen his face then, Margo. He knew it was up, and vacation only just starting! I said, 'Isn't that a wonder? My makeup wasn't even in the same case as your clothes. Never mind I don't own anything that color.' Sure an' he spent the whole week making it up to me. If I looked at it twice, he bought it. [glancing down at her jewelry.] I'm wearing it all now, you know, like those Indian women what if they're made to leave they can only take what they're wearing . . . Well, yeah, and I will soon as the laundry is done . . . I had to do his, too, didn't I? It was all mixed in with my own. But soon as it's done, his will go back in the suitcase, and he'll be out all right . . . No, no idea, not that it matters . . . Why should I care where he goes? Good enough he'll have clean clothes, and that's more than he deserves! . . . Who? . . . I don't know her . . . Does she now? You can always tell one by the lippy, that and the hair . . . Yes, and the clothes, of course, but when they have to dress for work, you have to look at the— . . . Where would Gerald have met her, though? . . . Well, I don't care. Soon as the dryer goes off, he's out. I won't even bother to fold. Clean but wrinkled is good enough for him. I—
A KNOCK at the door. NANCY looks over at it.
Margo, I have to go . . . No, but there's someone knocking . . . She wouldn't dare! Do you think? [more KNOCKING] . . . No, really, I need to— . . . If I don't call back in ten, send Roger around to check, will you? [more KNOCKING] Yes, all right, I'm coming! No, not you, Margo, how would I come through the phone? . . . Right, in ten.
NANCY hangs up and goes to the door, peers through the spy hole then jerks it open. ADELAIDE stands there, younger than Nancy, in a floral dress and frosted rose lipstick.
You would dare, would you? What do you want, you tart?
Can I come in?
You've already come all over the place for all I know. Who are you? Or should I just call you Rose?

I don't know where it goes from here. Just an idea I'm playing with. ~M

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