I need to pee but I’m going to hold it in until I finish writing today’s Morning Pages. Even if all I do is write about the sensation of needing to pee for the next three pages. What does needing to pee feel like? What are some good need-to-pee adjectives? Needing to pee is making me feel blocked. I can’t think of the right words to describe what it feels like to need to pee. It doesn’t matter that I’m only stream of consciousnessing. Stream of consciousnessing—is that a thing? If it’s not, it should be. Like procrastinating. If only someone would hire me to procrastinate. Maya assures me that procrastination is part of the creative process. And Maya, being Maya, will cite a study to prove it. I can then feel good about doing anything but what I’m supposed to be doing, until I start to freak out because the days keep falling off an eroding cliff and I still haven’t figured out how to end my play.
“I think I’m going to miss my deadline,” I told her last week. “I’m stuck.”
“Start doing Morning Pages,” she said.
I’m four days in.
“Start drinking blueberry and kale smoothies,” she said.
I’ve had two.
“Have sex. Lose your divorce virginity.”
It’s been so long. I don’t remember how.
How did I become a celibate middle-aged woman with writer’s block who is about to pee herself?
I’m going to hold it in. This is the new me. The hold-it-in-to-let-it-out me.
I called Mom yesterday to tell her about Deja New. Detail by detail, with this disclaimer: “Just so you know, I didn’t write this in hopes that this becomes a life-imitates-art situation. But the play is about a single woman whose divorced parents move in with her. For the record, I definitely don’t want that to happen.”
“It might be nice.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Of course I’m kidding, Elise,” she said. Like this is a thing she does, kids around. Never. Not once in my life.
I started telling her about the play. Act 1, Scene 1—
“Laurie and Granny are at a restaurant—”
She cut in before I got my next sentence out.
“You’re writing a play about a grandmother. How wonderful and how very dull.”
“I’m not writing a play about a grandmother. Granny is a guy. He’s 40. His actual name is Granville. Granny is his nickname.”
“A man named Granny. Elise, that’s brilliant!”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said. We were having a nice moment.
“That must have a terrible burden. Is he impotent?”
She ruined the moment. I didn’t answer her question. Just kept explaining what my play was about. Like I didn’t hear what she had said.
It’s Laurie’s 40th birthday and she and Granny haven’t seen each other in over ten years. They are talking and kind of laughing about a pact that they made in college. If they were both single when they turned 40, they’d get married. And here they are—both single at 40. They seem to be avoiding talking seriously about the one thing they’d both like to talk seriously about.
She cut in again. But this time her feedback was useful. More than useful. Brilliant. “There needs to be tension between them, tension that might be confused with sexual tension. And don’t forget the cultural tension of being a successful single woman. What they say to each other is as important as what they aren’t saying.”
Mom was right. I need more layers of unspoken tension between their words. Laurie and Granny haven’t seen each other for ten years. What does that body language look like? They’re both single. Do they lean in toward each other when they talk? A never-married professionally successful woman at 40 will have gone through her 30s dodging questions. Are you married? How come you’re not married? Aren’t you worried about your biological clock? Did you know children born to women over the age of 35 have a greater chance of having learning disabilities? She will be used to fielding these types of questions in the same way one is used to fielding questions about the weather. Is it cold out? Why haven’t you been married? She will be used to questions people ask and the suppositions they make. People view married women differently from how they view single women and women with children, whether they’re married or not, differently from women who don’t have children. I think I have too many one-liners but not enough substance. But maybe my characters are hiding their nervousness behind the one-liners. How can I play off of that?
Mom loved Grace. That was a relief. I was worried she’d be upset. She was delighted though. “She’s not really based on you,” I tried to tell her.
But she knew. Of course she knew. “Don’t bullshit me, Elise. Of course she’s me. I am honored to have inspired a character in your play. Just please don’t make her a prude. You tend to sanitize the characters you create who are based on me.”
I told her that I will make Grace sexually inappropriate if that’s what she wants.
“I’ve never been inappropriate,” she said. “Just because I’m not repressed like you, Elise, doesn’t mean I’m inappropriate.”
“I know that. But you are inappropriate.”
“You never have anything nice to say about me, do you?”
We were getting into it. It always happens this way. Thankfully she wanted to talk more about Grace.
“Don’t let the father get away with being charming. After he moves in with them, you mustn’t allow the character based on me to become a satire of herself. You don’t want to let your anger toward me and your fond feelings for your father ruin your play.”
She’s right. I have to make sure I figure out who Grace really is. I can’t let my anger at Mom create, then destroy this character.
It was strange talking to her about it. It was almost as if Mom could see the play I should be writing instead of the play I am writing. Her emotional intelligence for fictional characters is incredibly high. And yet, she seems to have little emotional intelligence for interacting with actual people.
Early on I used to talk my plays out with her, but then I stopped. Why did I stop? When we talk about books and movies and theater, we don’t fight. That’s not true. We had a fight a few weeks back about The Big Sleep. She was telling me that the character played by Martha Vickers was based on her.
“The underage manipulating seductress murderer younger sister to Lauren Bacall’s character? You think she was based on you? I don’t think so.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Elise. You never wanted to know about me.”
“Well maybe that’s the reason why,” I told her. Then of course I said, “I’ve got to go. I have a deadline.” I’m a lousy daughter.
(LAURIE, dressed in a cautiously sexy outfit, is out for her 40th birthday dinner with her best friend from college, GRANVILLE (GRANNY). They are at a trendy restaurant. The walls are covered with what looks like street art. The restaurant’s decor with the paintings should be projected on a large screen behind them. Along with the place settings at the table, there is a candle that resembles a phallus. The scene starts with Laurie and Granville looking at their menus. Granville is wearing a pair of readers. Laurie is squinting and holding her menu out in front of her with both arms. She moves it to the left and to the right and stretches her arms out so far that they are in danger of popping out of their sockets.)
GRANVILLE
Do you want me to hold it for you?
(Laurie lifts the menu up over her head and tries to read it like that, then brings it down in front of her. She picks up the candle and holds it close to the menu.)
LAURIE
Oh my! Does this candle look like a…?
GRANVILLE
Wow. It kind of does.
LAURIE
Do you think they did that on purpose?
GRANVILLE
They must have.
(Laurie examines the candle.)
LAURIE
Granny, I’m going to make a confession. This is the closest my face has been to a penis in three years. I can’t believe I just said that.
GRANVILLE
Three years isn’t that long. Ten years is though. What I can’t believe is that we haven’t seen each other in ten years.
LAURIE
I know it. That’s crazy. And now we’re old.
GRANVILLE
You look the same as always. You look fabulous.
LAURIE
Maybe on the outside. My insides are looking pretty ragged. They’ve been ravaged by the pressure to get married, to have kids, to make money, to have friends, to keep up with politics and movies and books and celebrity scandals, to have arcane interests but not too arcane, and to sleep through the night.
GRANVILLE
I’m feeling it too. I thought it would feel different. But it just looks different.
LAURIE
(Still holding the phallus candle) I don’t think they really want us to order. The print on this menu is tiny. Have you noticed that everything is getting bigger and bigger these days except for fonts? People are driving around in cars that are the size of houses. I bet there’s a car out there somewhere that has a bowling alley or a pool in it. And the houses. What’s up with all the McMansions? But then you go to a restaurant and the print is so small you can’t read the menu.
GRANVILLE
This is the decade where menus become impossible to read.
LAURIE
That sucks. I love reading menus.
GRANVILLE
Really? I didn’t know that about you.
LAURIE
I feel unwanted here. Let’s find another place to eat. One that respects font sizes.
GRANVILLE
I think we should hold our ground and stay. The food is supposed to be phenomenal.
(A hip looking waitress walks over to their table.)
WAITRESS
Are you ready to order?
LAURIE
(Cheery) Hi, how are you today? Do you by any chance have a large print menu? I’m having a hard time seeing this one.
WAITRESS
We don’t. But we do have the menu on audio if you prefer that. It comes with information about the art on our walls, which was done by a twenty-two-year-old Cuban street artist. You can rent a headset for two dollars.
LAURIE
Excuse me?
WAITRESS
Here.
(She pulls a headset out of her apron and holds it up.)
LAURIE
You’re really nice to offer that. You’re like a waitress and a docent all in one. But I’m okay. Thanks.
WAITRESS
My job description, if you can believe it, is customer advocate and culinary consultant.
GRANVILLE
That’s impressive.
WAITRESS
Can I get you a drink to start?
GRANVILLE
Two glasses of champagne. It’s her birthday.
WAITRESS
Please take this. It’s my birthday gift to you.
(The waitress hands Laurie the headset and Laurie puts it on. The waitress walks away humming “Happy Birthday.”)
LAURIE
What do you think an invigorated eggplant involtini is? I think it sounds like it could be good. Mmmm. Listen to this. Skuna Bay salmon crudo with blood orange gastrique. I wish I spoke foodie. I don’t understand what anything on this menu is.
LAURIE
Not for a while. When I was dating, it was like I kept going out with a carbon copy of the same guy. Unavailable. Smart. Self-involved. Kind. Conflicted. Detached and tormented. But they came in different body types. I thought that changing out body types might help. It appears men can have the same demons whether they’re tall and lanky or stocky and barrel-chested. Granny, the truth is I’ve never had a relationship that’s lasted longer than a year and a half. The times between my relationships always last longer than my relationships. Is there a word for that? The time in-between relationships?
GRANVILLE
Celibacy...at least for some folks.
LAURIE
I went into my last two relationships waiting for them to end and when they did, I felt an incredible wave of relief that the waiting was over. I’ve been checked out of the dating scene for a while now. I think the expectations are too high and I’ve buckled under the pressure…. What about you? I can’t believe we’re so out of touch with each other. We don’t even live that far away from each other. How did we let this happen? I should know about your dating life.
GRANVILLE
I’ve had girlfriends. Some serious. But I don’t know, nothing really felt like it clicked. You know that sound people make when they click?
LAURIE
Like when they finish each other’s sentences but they’re not talking over each other.
GRANVILLE
Exactly. Do you remember Marta?
LAURIE
Of course. Marta was great.
GRANVILLE
I really loved Marta. I could have married her but when she decided to go to medical school in California we broke up and that was that.
LAURIE
I guess it wasn’t meant to be.
GRANVILLE
I don’t buy that. Is anything meant to be? It works out and we assume it was meant to be. When someone you love gets into medical school in California and you’ve got a job in Boston, you convince yourself that maintaining a long-distance relationship is impractical. Does that mean it wasn’t meant to be? Marta and I figured we’d both find someone else closer by. And she did. Were they meant to be?
LAURIE
I believe that some things are meant to be. I think I was meant to be alone. I’ve come to terms with it, really. Well, as much as I can.
(Granville puts both his hands on the table and leans toward Laurie.)
GRANVILLE
Do you remember our pact?
LAURIE
Oh my God—we were going to get married at forty if we were still single! And here we are. Why did we choose forty anyway?
(Granville leans back and puts his hands in his lap.)
GRANVILLE
It seems kind of random. Fifty would have been better. Or thirty, so it would be easier to have kids.
LAURIE
Do you think we thought we’d have it all figured out by now or that we knew we wouldn’t?
GRANVILLE
It’s strange how far away forty seems when you’re twenty. Do you think sixty seems that far away now that we’re forty?
(The waitress returns holding two flutes of champagne.)
WAITRESS
These are on the house. Have you decided what you’d like for your birthday dinner?
LAURIE
What about this or this?
(Laurie starts tentatively stabbing at the menu.)
Granny, can you read these?
GRANVILLE
Brussel sprouts kulambu. Beef carpaccio. Skuna bay salmon.
LAURIE
Oh, and let’s get that eggplant thing. Do you think that’s enough food?
WAITRESS
You can always get more if you’re still hungry.
(The waitress walks away humming “Happy Birthday” again. There’s an almost, but not quite, uncomfortably long silence before Laurie talks.)
LAURIE
Granny, I can’t believe you went into tech. You were the consummate English major. You always had a novel in your hand and never understood why I was a math major. By the way, I love my MatchIT App, Granny. It was genius to think that people would want to have appliances that match their personality profile. You’re kind of a visionary.
GRANVILLE
I’m not a visionary. I had a good idea, and I caught the moment. We’re expanding into other household items and beyond. It’s extraordinary how eager people are to have their possessions match their personality.
(Laurie leans back and crosses her arms.)
LAURIE
Did I tell you that my mom has moved in with me?
GRANVILLE
Oh no. Is she okay?
LAURIE
It’s temporary. She totaled her car. She was banged up but is fine. But I don’t want her driving anymore. She’s a terrible driver. Way too nervous. The bigger problem is her place is almost impossible to get to without a car, so, she’s staying with me for a while.
GRANVILLE
And how’s it going?
LAURIE
Honestly, it’s hell.
GRANVILLE
I’m not surprised. I remember your mom well.
LAURIE
Did she try to seduce you when we were in college?
GRANVILLE
Not really. I think she just wanted me to be appreciative of her sex appeal.
LAURIE
No wonder I’m so fucked up.
GRANVILLE
You’re not that fucked up. I’ve been thinking a lot about our pact. Not as a joke. Like thinking about what if we did.
LAURIE
How Sleepless in Seattle of you.
GRANVILLE
It’s more When Harry Met Sally. But not really.
LAURIE
It doesn’t matter, as long as I get to be Meg Ryan.
GRANVILLE
I see you more as Tilda Swinton.
LAURIE
That’s even better! She’s kind of hot-nerdy. Have you heard of Euler’s Identity?
GRANVILLE
I can’t say I have.
LAURIE
Euler’s Identity is the perfect equation. E to the i Pi, plus one, equals zero. I know this sounds geeky, but in this one equation there are all of the most important mathematical elements, and the beauty of Pi and an imaginary number. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that people have compared this equation to a Shakespearean sonnet. I used to use Euler’s Identity as a metaphor for life. E stood for Enrichment—a fulfilling career and friendships. I was Good Health.
GRANVILLE
Shouldn’t I be for Illness?
LAURIE
Or Immortality.
GRANVILLE
Is that what you want?
LAURIE
Not with my mom living with me. Pi is for Plentiful and Delicious Food, naturally. And then there’s the Plus One, and that plus one is true love…. Like the perfect equation, together those elements equal a happy and fulfilled life. For a long time, I’d wake up every morning and it would be the first thing I said—E to the i Pi, plus one, equals zero. It was my mantra. But it didn’t matter.
GRANVILLE
You had a Plus One problem.
LAURIE
Yeah. I had more than just a Plus One problem. But the Plus One was an issue. Then it dawned on me that there’s too much pressure to love. We’re supposed to love our parents. Love our friends. Love our jobs. Love sunny days. Love what we’re wearing. And then find a soulmate to love on top of that.
GRANVILLE
What if it’s all bullshit? What if the pressure and the pursuit are real but that’s all that’s real?
LAURIE
We were so drunk that night. Do you remember? You peed on a tree, and I yelled at you.
GRANVILLE
And then we made the pact.
LAURIE
And now we’re forty and I’m living with my mom.
(The waitress arrives with their food and puts it on the table. While she is placing it down, Laurie is squinting and trying to decipher what’s on the plates.)
GRANVILLE
I think we should honor it.
LAURIE
Look at this food. It looks like an art project and the portions, the portions here are as tiny as the fonts. (Singing softly almost as if to herself) Happy fortieth birthday tooooooo me.
BLACKOUT