Leah Mann
VIJAY, 20s to 30s
VIJAY, a handsome young East Indian man with a light British accent, loosens his tie as he approaches his new bride. The interior of the honeymoon suite where they are staying is swanky. VIJAY seems comfortable in the expensive surroundings.
VIJAY So . . . hi. This is even weirder than I thought it’d be. No offense! You’re not weird. I mean, maybe you are—if you are, that’s okay. Eeesh, awkward. I don’t know. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? We don’t know each other. I guess it’s time to start?
[Beat.]
Do you want to go first?
[Beat.]
No? Okay. Fine, totally get it. No pressure. You can even leave the veil on. I’m curious, of course.
[Beat.]
Eventually you’ll take it off, right? To shower or eat. Not that it matters what you look like! I’m not superficial like that. Your face does not define who you are or how happy our marriage will be. Maybe you don’t like my face—it doesn’t mean you don’t like me. Do you like my face? Is it okay? I’ve been told it’s nice, but it’s so hard to tell if people are just being polite.
[Beat.]
Alrighty, let’s start with an easy one. Just dip a toe in, so to speak. Favorite color? Any food allergies? You a reader? I love reading. Probably too much.
[Beat.]
Right, sorry, that was lots of questions. Pick any of them.
[Beat.]
Orange? Nice choice. Bold, bright, I like it. Mine’s green, that sort of dusty gray green of pine needles—that’s my favorite. Smells good, too. Not that colors smell, but you know how you can imagine what a color would smell like, my green would be misty and a little mysterious. Orange would be fresh and zesty. Do you ever think about stuff like that? What pictures would sound like or what a song would feel like? Some people can actually do that—synesthesia. I can’t, but I try to imagine it. What’s your favorite song?
[Beat.]
You don’t have one? Not a music person. Huh. Okay. Not everyone is. Nothing wrong with that. I’ll do one—“Hey Jude” by the Beatles, you know that one? Who doesn’t? That song would feel like thick, velvety moss on a gray day.
[Beat.]
Do you enjoy the outdoors? I adore them. Being outside mellows me out. Sometimes my brain gets a bit manic, like a merry-go-round spinning about too fast, but if I’m outside I slow down and can get off the ride for a bit. Something about the wind and the sun and all those smells seep in and rinse out my head.
[Beat.]
A romantic? I suppose you could call me that . . . this isn’t very romantic, though. More a business deal, really, to make mum and dad happy, isn’t it? It’s all so archaic, but you hit a certain age and after years of denial you succumb to the family pressure. I didn’t find anyone on my own, did I? So fine, we’ll grow to love each other like our parents did.
[Beat.]
Your parents hate each other? Sorry to hear that. Tragic. And you still agreed to this? They paid for your university? Yes, and they want grandkids of course . . . that’s a ticking uterine clock. A deal is a deal, I guess. I admire you for sticking to your end of the bargain. My parents don’t hate each other. They’re quite fond of each other, actually—it’s rather impressive. I’m optimistic.
[Beat.]
You’re more of a pessimist? I always say, it’s not being pessimistic, it’s being realistic. Ha-ha-ha. And realistically, you’re right—we might dislike each other more after we get familiar. It’s a distinct possibility.
[Beat.]
Getting distincter by the minute.
[Beat.]
Sorry? Oh, my mistake—“distincter” is not a word. “More distinct.” Thank you for correcting me. I’m always happy to better myself. You’re improving me already! I’ve never been much of a grammarian. More of a math and sciences guy myself.
[Beat.]
Not to be blunt, but it’s getting late and tomorrow there will be all sorts of questions . . . so where do you stand on this whole wedding night business?
[Beat.]
I don’t want to pressure you, but we are man and wife now and you did mention getting a move on with children.
[Beat.]
I’m quite good. Not that I have loads of practice, but enough. I’ll certainly do my best to please you. I’m not a selfish man as far as that goes. I take pleasure in a woman’s pleasure, so that should be a point or two in the plus column. Make up a bit for the poor grammar?
[Beat.]
Have you ever had any practice? Just out of curiosity . . . not asking in a judgy way. Good, good, we’re on even ground then. So perhaps we can start with your veil. Call me a traditionalist, but I like to see a woman’s face before I see her . . . everything else.
[Beat.]
No? Goodness, of course you can keep the veil on. I wouldn’t want you to see me cry, either.
[Beat.]
I’ll just stop asking you questions and disrobe so we can get you started on those kids.
[Beat.]
You’re welcome. Happy to oblige my new wife.