Barefoot in the Park

P: Let's just... think.

C: (hides face)

P: Maybe you're right. Maybe we don't have anything in common. Two people should have more than just a blood test first. Maybe they should be checked first for a little common sense, understanding, and emotional maturity.

C: All right! Why don't you get us passed by the Supreme Court? Only those couples bearing a certificate from their psychiatrist proving that they're emotionally mature can be married.

P: You know in Harry's Bar last New Year's Eve, I punched an old woman. Don't tell me about drunk. When else? When else was I proper and dignified?

C: All the time. You're always dressed right. You always look right. You always say the right thing. You're very nearly perfect.

P: Listen! Now wait a minute Corie. There's one thing I've learned in court. Be careful when you're tired and angry. You may say something you will soon regret. I am now tired and angry.

C: And a coward!

P: I want to know why you want a divorce. Huh? Why?

C: Because you and I have absolutely nothing in common.

P: That's a rotten thing to say.

C: Before we were married, I thought you slept with a tie.

P: Mm-hmm.

C: But you're extremely proper and dignified.

P: I really...

C: Do you think i'll get one wink of sleep until that phone rings tomorrow? I'm scared to death for my mother. And i'm grateful there's finally something to be scared about. What I'm really concered about is you.

P: Oh, listen-

C: Don't touch me! Don't lay a finger on me! I can't stand to have you near me! I don't want to be in the same room with you!

P: Because I won't go walking barefoot in the park? You don't have a case, Corie. Adultery, yes, but cold feet, no.

C: Don't you oversimplify this. I am angry, Paul. Can't you see that?

P: Cry, please. Go ahead.

C: Don't you tell me when to cry! I'll cry when I feel like crying. And I'm not going to have my cry until you're out of this apartment.

P: Right. I was stoned.

C: Exactly. I didn't even know it until you told me in the morning. Uhh... I mean you're a funny kind of drunk, Paul. You sat around looking unhappy, watching your coat.

P: Simple answer. It was 17 degrees.

C: Exactly. It's very logical, very sensible, and it's no fun.

P: What's going on here? You're hysterical.

C: I am not hysterical! I know exactly what I'm saying, Paul. It's all over between us. And it's never going to be any good anymore.

P: What? Hmm? A stuffed shirt? Is that it?

C: I didn't say that.

P: You know, I think you mean it. You mean this?

C: I do. I really do.

P: what does that mean?

C: I don't know! I don't know what it means. All I know is that I want a divorce. (sit on chair near SL)

P: In the middle of a fight. This is in the middle of a divorce.

C: I'm sorry, Paul. I can't talk to you when you're hysterical.

P: Divorce!

C: I'm sorry. I can't discuss it anymore. (go to bed SR)

P: Oh God...

C: I'm sorry. I don't want to cry.

P: I was watching my coat because I saw someone else watching my coat. If you want I'll get drunk for you some time, make your hair stand on end.

C: It isn't necessary

P: maybe you're right. Maybe I am a little too proper and dignified for you. Maybe you would have been happier with somebody a little more colorful and flamboyant... like the geek.

C: It'd be a lot more laughs than a stuffed shirt.

P: It is? When did this happen?

C: Just now. It has suddenly become very clear to me that you and I have absolutely nothing in common.

P: Why? Because I like to wear my gloves in winter?

C: No. Because there isn't the least bit of adventure in you. Do you know what you are, Paul? You're a watcher. You're a watcher. There are watchers in this world and there are do-ers. And the watchers sit around watching the do-ers do. Well, tonight you watched and I did.

P: No, no. I'm just as upset as you are. But when I get hungry, I eat. When I get tired, I sleep. You eat and sleep too, don't deny it, I've seen you.

C: Not in the middle of a crisis.

P: To sleep

C: Now? How can you go to sleep now?

P: Are you serious?

C: Of course I'm serious Paul, I want a divorce! (sit on chair near SL)

P: Would you bring in a pail? The closet's dripping.

C: Oh, I hate you! I really, really hate you!

P: Nothing in common? What about the six days at the Plaza, Corie?

C: Six days does not a week make.

P: You have the fight. When you're through, would you turn off these lights. Please.

C: That gets me absolutely insane! You can even control your emotions! (hysteric)

P: That's what you were implying.

C: That's what you're anticipating. I didn't say stuffed shirt.

P: Proper and dignified? When was I proper and dignified?

C: The other night at Delfino's, you were drunk, right?

P: Where are you going?

C: To bed.

P: I just can't understand how you can be so unconcerned about all of this. I really can't.

C: Unconcered?

P: I thought you weren't going to cry.

C: Well, I am! I'm gonna cry, I'm going to have the biggest cry I've ever had in my whole life, and I'm going to enjoy it! And I'm gonna cry so hard, I'll keep you awake all night. Good night Paul. I mean goodbye.

P: I thought you said I wasn't.

C: Well, you are now.

P: What do you mean "out of this apartment?"

C: Well, you certainly don't think we're going to live here anymore, do you? After this?

P: Me? Me?

C: Yeah. I'm beginning to wonder if you're capable of having a good time!

P: It was a little bit harder to watch what you did than it was for you to do what I was watching.

C: You can't even relax for one evening. I don't know, Paul, sometimes you act like a-

P: I'm going to close my eyes and count knichis. Good night dear.

C: You cannot go to sleep now, Paul. We're having a fight.

P: You can't, not now.

C: You did before.

P: what crisis? We're just yelling.

C: You don't consider this a crisis? Our whole marriage is hanging in the balance.

P: No. just for formal sleeps

C: You have absolutely no sense of ridiculous. Like last Thursday night, you wouldn't walk barefoot with me in Washington Square Park. Why not?

P: It's 2:15. If it can get to sleep in a half an hour, I can get about 5 hours sleep. I'll call you from court tomorrow, and we'll fight over the phone.

C: You will not go to sleep, Paul! You will stay here and fight to save our marriage!

P: If our marriage hinges on those fishbowls and pelmechki, it is not worth saving. Now dear, I'm crawling into our tiny single bed, if you care to join me. We are sleeping from left to right tonight.

C: You won't discuss it! You're afraid to discuss it! I married a-a coward!

P: I'm not gonna listen to this. I'm not gonna listen to this. I have a case in court in the morning.

C: where are you going?

C: (stage right, get phone, then go back)

P: Here. It's for you. I don't live here anymore. Fine. Fine. You work for a lousy six cents. I don't even care. I don't know... why I even bother. It's just- it's just nothing.

C: (stage right)

P: Six days does not a week make.