35: Tissues and Tears At the Seams

Wendy’s Bedroom. Wendy is in bed. She is under the covers. A TV with antennas plays something on it. Wendy holds a box of tissues to her breast and one hand near her nose. She sobs. The TV sings of sap. Her bedroom door opens and Paul sneaks in.

Wendy: Paul!

Paul: Wendy, I-

Wendy: Mother’ll kill you if she finds you up here.

Paul: I don’t care. Wendy, I don’t. Honestly, I’m going to marry you and the wedding is next month. We haven’t planned anything. Most of the problem is that you get so spastic everytime you think of the wedding.

Wendy: I can’t help it. At least keep your voice down.

Paul: Fine. But we need to speak. Why are you still in bed?

Wendy: I didn’t go to work today.

Paul: Wendy-

Wendy: What?

Paul: Don’t tell me.

Wendy: Tell you what?

Paul: That you quit your job.

Wendy: Fine, I won’t tell you that.

Paul: WENDY! I can’t believe you. You have got to be kidding me. Yesterday in our session with that Paula woman, you said that you would not quit. But this just proves it. It proves it full force. You are getting worse. . .your- your disorder.

Wendy: It is not a disorder!

Paul: It most certainly is. Look at you. Look at this dark room with it’s heavy curtains. You don’t even get light in here. How can you live?

Wendy: Paul, don’t talk that way to me!

Paul: How can I not? I know I said I wanted to live simply but not in some mole hole!

Wendy: Don’t call my house a mole hole!

Mildred appears at the door.

Mildred: Why, Wendy- Paul. I should have known. Stop it. Stop right now. You of all people should not be in here. Not at this moment. What is wrong with you?

Paul: What are you talking about?

Mildred: What do you mean what am I talking about? You dragging my daughter yesterday into marriage counseling with that quack woman.

Paul: She was not a quack. She said some very nice things.

Wendy: Paul, she said some very horrible things. She said I was reclusive by nature and that I had to go out more. That’s horrible!

Paul: Why is that horrible? That’s pinpointing the problem right in its fucking arse!

Wendy: I don’t have a problem, Paul. This is my life.

Mildred: Wendy’s a shy girl, Paul. She’s not a big sinner like some of those floosy girls.

Wendy: That’s right.

Paul: Mildred, I’m sorry Ms. Pierce I mean, this is not normal. Your daughter can’t even be seen by people. She should be a fucking middle eastern shiek-y woman for all I care. She doesn’t want anybody to gaze on her. Is that normal?

Wendy: I want you and Mother to gaze on me. I just don’t like others.

Paul: See! See! This is what I mean. How can the both of you consider this normal.

Mildred: I can and I will. Paul, this is my household and I am not ready to give it to you. No. Not at all. Not with you behaving like a lunatic from bedlam. Paul. Paul. You cannot come into this house without knocking on the front door and asking to be seen with my daughter, but only then with a chaperone, that is when she is here in her bed, in her night clothes.

Paul: Listen to how you talk. You talk like you are from the 18 fucking 90s.

Mildred: Don’t use words like fuck to me. Do you hear me, young man?

Paul: Wendy. I can’t listen to her anymore. When you feel ready to cut the cord-

Wendy: Cord? What cord?

Paul: I don’t know. The leash, the ambiliacal cord. . .whatever the fuck it is. . . please do and give me a call. I can’t take this any longer.

Mildred: Paul. You walk out of this house, you’re making a big mistake, young man.

Paul: Oh yeah?

Mildred: Don’t ever plan to set foot in it as long as I’m alive.

Wendy: Mother. Paul!

Paul: You heard me Wendy. So get it straight. You have more chances than this. Come with me. We can see that Paula woman again. She’ll make everything work for us.

Wendy: If that Paula woman were the last woman on earth, I wouldn’t even go to see her again. I hate her. I wouldn’t even go to the funeral even if she IS Janet’s friend.

Paul: Well, Good-bye, Wendy.

Wendy: Paul, wait.

Mildred: Don’t ask him to wait. He’s garbage, Wendy. Garbage.

Paul: I can’t wait forever for you to come out of your shell. Good-bye, darling.

Mildred: Don’t kiss her. Aww. Filthy Lips.

Paul kisses her forehead, tears stream down Wendy’s face.

Paul: The door isn’t closed, Wendy. You can still make the right decision. I’ll wait.

Wendy: Paul, please don’t do this. Please. PLEASE!

Paul: Good night.

He exits.

Mildred: I told you he was worthless. Worthless.

Wendy: I know. But I love him. I LOVE HIM.

Mildred: I don’t see why.

Wendy: Leave me with my soaps. Get outta here, Mother. Just get out. Now.

Mildred: Very well. (Mildred exits with one last look back at her daughter with the tissues.)