(Soft piano music and gentle clinks of metal on porcelain fill the air. A small Italian restaurant. White tablecloths with napkins the same shade as their house red. There is a single candle on each table, so that the room’s already dim lighting flickers slightly; an almost imperceptible strobe. A bit crowded for a Saturday night. A balding man in a tweed jacket sits alone at a table for two. His hands rest on his thighs to provide covering fire for his tap dancing feet. He inhales and exhales. His name is Kyle (K).)

Kyle [to himself.]: [This jacket is all wrong…she’s going to think you’re old and boring. Is she late?  Were you early? This was such a bad idea. You’re never trusting Chris ever again. He’s a hack. He’s a jerk, and he’s probably got hidden cameras in this place just to watch you sweat while you get stoo-]

(A women, maybe 28 years old, with dark brown hair to her shoulders and a tasteful slip dress on with a geometric pattern, warily approaches the table. Her name is Mary (M).)

Mary: Kyle? Are you Kyle French?

K: Uh, yeah! I mean, yes! Yes. Mary, is it?

(K gets up to shake her hand, M’s smile illuminates.)

M: That’s what they call me!

K: It’s so good to meet you.

M: Same! So, uh…you know Jim then?

K: Certainly do! Jimmy’s a great guy; been friends forever. To be honest, as soon as he said I’d like you, well I just had to trust him.

M: …and did I meet your expectations?

K: Gotta say…so far, he was quite right.

(They collectively blush, and are politely interrupted by their server. He’s a tall, skinny grad student named Gerald (SG), and his hair is like a 60’s lawyer – slicked and combed. He bends down slightly between the two of them and speaks, not unlike a dipping bird desk toy)

SG: Good evening, you two. My name is Gerald, and I’ll be your server tonight. May I start you off with something to drink?

M: Thank you, umm, Kyle did you have anything in mind?

K: Oh not really, water’s though. And perhaps we can split a half-bottle of something? Your call, I’m happy with anything.

M: Alright… Two waters, please. And how about… (searching the menu, biting her left hand index finger gently while thinking, which K finds adorable)…the Ten-oo-tah Floor-ee-ano, is it?

SG: The 2010 Rosso, Miss?

M: Yes! That’s it.

SG: Certainly. And would you prefer sparkling or still water?

M + K: [simultaneously] Sparkling / Still.

(They giggle together)

M: Whatever you like is fine!

K: Are you sure?

M: Yes, still is great.

K: Ok then. Still, Gerald?

SG: Very good. I’ll be right back with that.

(The server leaves.)

K: [Great. Now she thinks you’re overbearing!]

M: Is everything alright?

K: What? OH, yes, sorry. It’s just that…sorry I cut you off before.

M: Oh, not at all. Great minds think alike, I suppose, right?

K: Truer words never spoken; quite right. [Careful with those one-liners though, Gable.]

M: So…Jim tells me you work in television? Or was it film?

K: A bit of everything, you could say. My latest gig has been with Paramount, working on a historical drama. [Keep it vague. Vague is believable. Don’t oversell…]

M: Oh, that’s so exciting! Can you tell me what the movie is?

K: [Nailed it! Here comes the punchline…] I could…but then I’d have to kill you, you see?

M: Haha, all the same, that’s marvelous.

K: And yourself? If I had to guess…model?

M: Stop that! I’m a teacher at PS 17.

K: That’s wonderful. We do need more great teachers. I might not be able to focus if I had you in class though.

[Seriously? THAT was your instinctive reply?]

M: Haha, hey now, I run a tight ship. Seventh grade English, as a matter of fact.

K: That’s a great matter of fact, very cool. Do you enjoy teaching?

M: Oh certainly, it’s my passion.

K: […that didn’t really feel passionate…is she making this up? I’ve got to test it.] That’s great. So…where did you study teaching?

M: Oh, you’ve probably never heard of it. It was at a small liberal arts school in Maine.

K: [Nah, can’t make that up. Though she’s not making me feel it in my heart; is it this lighting?] Really? I’m actually from Bangor, myself. [WHAT!? No you’re not. You’re from Boston. Where did that come from? THIS IS NOT IMPROV.]

M: No way! I went to Bates.

K: Bates! I’ve got a cousin who went there…oh, what’s his name… [Congratulations, you’re off the deep end. Save it. Turn this ship around! Also, what is going on with your posture? Do people from Maine sit like gorillas?]

M: It’s okay; even though it’s small, I mostly kept to myself in school. I wasn’t any kind of social butterfly.

K: [Saved by the non-butterfly.] With a smile like that? Well, I’m just glad you’re social enough to share it with me at dinner tonight.

M: Gosh, you’re so sweet. Thank you.

(SG returns with the wine, and they do the splash, sniff, and sip routine.)

SG: Do you two have any questions about the menu?

M: Oh gosh, I don’t think we’ve even opened them!

SG: Not a problem, Miss, take your time. I’ll give you both a few minutes.(SG leaves.)

K: So, what kind of things do you like? They’ve got great veal…

M: Ugh, hate veal.

K: Oh?

M: Sorry…just not a fan of the whole…eating baby animals thing…

K: [Steer clear of this one sailor…just say that it’s fine] No worries! Was just being polite, you know? Me neither. [Smooth.] Well, I think I’ll do the ‘linguine vongole’.

M: A man after my Maine heart! I’ll do the same.

(SG returns and they order. K and M fold up the over-sized menus, SG takes them with a bow and turns on heel)

SG: Thank you so much.

(M smooths her napkin on her lap; K follows suit.)

M: So…I’ve got to make a confession to you.

K: You do?

M: I’m actually doing some acting for a friend’s independent film…

K: Ahh…the truth appears!

M: You must get this sooo often, but would you mind giving me some pointers?

K: [Kyle…don’t fall for this. It’s a trap. You know this trap. You’ve been here before! Don’t. fall. for. it.] Well…I wasn’t planning on this being a ‘work’ dinner, but I’d be happy to give you some food for thought. [Aaand here we go.]

M: Oh thank you! You really are just too sweet. Okay, so, the character is this British women who’s a widow, and she’s just found out that her former husband was an alien.

K: That’s a pretty outlandish script already! Go on… [Be gentle.]

M: Yeah, it’s kind of nuts. Anywho! So the scene that I think I’ve really got down is when she’s at his grave, and gives a soliloquy about how she should have known. I think I really capture her emotion! Here goes… (begins to recite lines in a British accent) 

K: (fighting a facial cringe) [Oh God…Oh dear God, and all that is holy in heaven and on Earth, this is bad. This is REAL bad. The accent is Cockney, not London. Who taught her to hold her hands like that? She’s got no expression coming from her eyes; THE MOST IMPORTANT PART. I wouldn’t believe for a second that she was even a widow, let alone that her husband’s from Exor 3467.] Hmm…go on…

M: So, that’s the first half. Any thoughts?

K: Oh…it’s really, um, well it’s certainly your own way of doing it.

M: You don’t like it.

K: NO. Nooooo, it’s really unique! I especially appreciate the accent you’ve chosen. Do you like British accents? [Play it cool. Just say it’s great and move on. You’re getting in too deep, dammit! Do you have NO desire to being with this beautiful woman tonight??]

M: Well…I’ve actually never had a British role before…

K: Never had one, have you? Well, doesn’t matter. Nope. That’s a good accent. That’s definitely a British accent. [Stop it. Now you’re patronizing her without her even knowing it.]

M: Really? It’s believable?

K: It’s so good, it’s unbelievable! [You’re going to hell. Straight there. You’re practically sprinting!]

M: Well, I think I’ll save the rest, don’t want to give away any spoilers!

K: [Like a wave of relief…thank goodness.] Thanks for sharing that with me. I hope you’re having a lot of fun with it.

M: I am! It’s not easy to do it on the side, but it’s a real joy of mine.

K: That’s wonderful.

M: Mmhmm.

K: (playing with silverware a bit) [Don’t…] Although… [DON’T…]if I could lend just…a bit of advice. [Please, PLEASE, LEAVE IT ALONE!!!!!]

M: Yeah?

K: The accent’s actually kind of off…ok, it’s really off. It’s full of off. It’s awful. I’m full of awe that it’s so off. Do you even hear yourself? Have you ever seen a movie? If she’s from London, and a rich widower of a man of Parliament, do you honestly think she’d have a back-alley Cockney tone like some cousin of Michael Caine? Do you??

M: Well, I…

K: No, obviously you don’t hear yourself or you’d know. But I hear it, and they will hear it too, and it’s absurd. Not unlike your hands! What are you even doing with them? And your eyes! I just don’t believe them at all.

M: Well, excuse me! (a tear rolls) You’re a monster.

K: No. Monsters destroy good things; I destroy bad things, namely bad habits and lack of focus.

M: I’m pretty sure this was supposed to be A DATE!

(Nearby customers begin to stop their conversations and turn to watch and listen)

K: Well, I’m pretty sure you were the one who asked for ‘some pointers’. It’s not my fault you haven’t the foggiest idea of where you’re headed at all!

M: Ohhh, I’ve got an idea alright… RIGHT OUT THE DAMN DOOR. (M splashes wine in K’s face, storms out)

(The patrons eventually turn back to their meals, and the air is again filled with soft piano music and gentle clinks of metal on porcelain. Red wine drips off K’s goatee onto the napkin in his lap. The stains are invisible.)

K: [Welp. Third time this year and it’s not even March. You have to stop dating actresses…]

SG: Sir?

K: Yes?

SG: Your meals are almost ready. Would you like boxes?

K: Please.

SG: Very good sir. And, sir?

K: What?

SG: The manager has asked that if you plan to have other… conversations… like these, you’ll need to start taking them elsewhere.

K: Valid.

SG: Very good sir. I’ll be back with your boxes and the check.

K: Grazie.

(SG leave, K lets his head drop to the table with a soft thud and a rattle of silverware.)