Nice restaurant

[MAN and WOMAN are seated across from each other in a nice restaurant. They are in "nice" clothes; MAN wears a suit that he would probably wear to work; WOMAN wears a dress that is a few years old. There is a bottle of wine, mostly untouched, in the center of the table next to a candle in a jar. They are eating their meals, WOMAN delicately, MAN voraciously. MAN looks up and sees he will finish long before WOMAN and self-consciously slows down for a moment. WOMAN picks at a fancy pasta dish; MAN eats a steak with French fries.]

WOMAN: Eat your French fries with a fork.
MAN: I am.
WOMAN: You're not listening to me.
MAN: I'm eating my French fries.
WOMAN: With a fork. Eat them with a fork.
MAN: What?
WOMAN: Eat your French fries with a fork.
MAN: I have never done such a thing in my entire life and I'm not about to start now.
WOMAN: It's polite. We're in a nice restaurant.
MAN: I don't care if it's a nice restaurant. It's a finger food and I'm a human being.
WOMAN: Do you see anyone else here eating French fries with their hands?

[MAN looks around the restaurant.]

MAN: I don't see anyone eating French fries at all.
WOMAN: That's because we're in a nice restaurant. People don't order French fries at a nice restaurant. They get mashed potatoes. Or whipped. Whipped potates.
MAN: A potato's a potato's a potato.
WOMAN: Look. Over there. Behind you. That man's got French fries.
MAN: He's not eating them, though.
WOMAN: He was eating them with a fork, just a second ago. You watch.
MAN: I don't believe you.
WOMAN: You watch him!

[MAN and WOMAN both watch the man in question. They keep looking.]

MAN: He's eating his steak.
WOMAN: Ssh.

[They keep looking. MAN glances at his watch, then up again.]

MAN: He's really going after that steak.
WOMAN: Come on, eat a fry.
MAN: Eat a fry! Eat it!
WOMAN: Wait, he saw us.

[MAN and WOMAN both look down sheepishly. They grab their wine glasses and take a quick swig. Then, they are silent for a moment.]

MAN: Is--is he still looking?
WOMAN: Yes. Yes. OK, no.

[MAN resumes his watch. WOMAN hits him with her napkin.]

MAN: Hey!
WOMAN: Don't look!
MAN: He's not looking anymore!
WOMAN: Our cover's already blown, if he catches us again, we'll really be caught.
MAN: All right, fine, just tell me when he starts eating his fries.

[WOMAN watches over MAN's shoulder. MAN is impatient. He makes a few "come on" gestures; WOMAN waves them off in annoyance.]

WOMAN: He's really going after that steak.
MAN: [suddenly triumphant] He's eating French fries right now.
WOMAN: What are you talking about?
MAN: He's eating them right now with his hands and you don't want to admit it, so you're just going to keep me going like this all night so you don't have to admit that you were wrong and I was right.
WOMAN: Don't be ridiculous.
MAN: I see what's going on here. I see exactly what's going on here.
WOMAN: You're crazy.
MAN: Am I?

[MAN turns around and looks in the direction of the man offstage. He is quickly disappointed.]

MAN: He's really going after that steak.
WOMAN: I told you.

[MAN quickly turns around.]

MAN: I think he saw me again.

[MAN and WOMAN both grab their wine glasses and take quick self-conscious swigs at once. They are silent for a moment.]

WOMAN: It shouldn't even matter what he was doing. It's a matter of manners.
MAN: A matter of manners, eh?
WOMAN: Yes, that's right.
MAN: What manners?
WOMAN: It's a sign of disrespect to eat food with your hands.
MAN: You know, in India, they eat everything with their hands.
WOMAN: Do they?
MAN: Oh yeah. Meat, rice, soup. Everything.
WOMAN: I didn't know that.
MAN: Oh, it's disgusting.

[There is a short silence. Without thinking, MAN picks up another fry. WOMAN slaps it out of his hand. The fry is sent flying across the stage.]

MAN: Hey!
WOMAN: What did we just finish talking about?
MAN: Oh, right.
WOMAN: It's rude.
MAN: Well I'm sure it's rude to throw food, as well.
WOMAN: You're the one who threw it.
MAN: No jury would convict me.

[They eat in silence for another few moments. MAN reaches for a fry but stops himself. WOMAN is watching. MAN picks up a spoon.]

MAN: We'll compromise. I'll eat them with a spoon.
WOMAN: Done.

[For a few seconds, MAN tries to eat his fries with a spoon. He scoops one up, but it falls. He cuts it with the side and scoops up the one piece and sips it like soup. It's not bad. He gets another one on his spoon and offers it to WOMAN.]

MAN: Fry?
WOMAN: No, stop it.
MAN: No, come on, just have one.
WOMAN: Stop it! You're being ridiculous.
MAN: Just try it. It's good, they're crispy like you like them.
WOMAN: Knock it off.

[They laugh for a second.]

WOMAN: That guy is looking at us again.
MAN: He was probably looking at me eating my fries with a spoon.
WOMAN: Maybe his wife was telling him to be polite and eat his fries with a spoon.
MAN: "Use a spoon! We're at a nice restaurant! That's how you're supposed to eat in nice restaurants!"
WOMAN: Eat more. Quick, while he's still looking.

[MAN picks up another fry in his spoon and takes a big bite over his shoulder, so the man offstage can see. WOMAN laughs, MAN turns around before he starts laughing as well.]

MAN: Stop. What are they doing? What are they doing?
WOMAN: I don't know. They're talking to each other...
MAN: I hope he starts eating fries with a spoon.
WOMAN: We'd have started a whole new trend.
MAN: We'd be famous, maybe.

[Short pause. MAN and WOMAN both calm down.]

WOMAN: I don't think he's going to take the bait.
MAN: Yeah, I don't think so.
WOMAN: Oh well.
MAN: We almost had him, though.
WOMAN: Maybe.

[Another long pause. They begin eating and drinking again, slowly.]

WOMAN: Do you ever wonder what other people are saying about you?
MAN: Sometimes. We all do. I try not to.
WOMAN: It can drive you crazy.

[Short pause.]

MAN: It's worse, though. The other way.
WOMAN: What's that?
MAN: You ever think about it the other way around?
WOMAN: I don't know what you mean.
MAN: You try to make yourself feel better. You tell yourself, "of course no one's talking about me right now. Why would they? They have better things to talk about, their own things to talk about."
WOMAN: Yeah?
MAN: Well it's depressing.
WOMAN: I guess.
MAN: No one is talking about us. The two of us--we're the only ones who are having this conversation. We're the only ones who are hearing it. And that fry thing--maybe that guy will remember tonight, remember to tell his buddies at work the next morning. But why would he? And he'll probably forget. And we'll forget, eventually.
WOMAN: Try not to think about it.
MAN: I try.

[Long, depressing pause. WOMAN tries to catch MAN's eyes and laugh away the weight, but he isn't having it.]

WOMAN: We have each other. Who cares what else? How can you possibly care what else? None of it matters, anyway.
MAN: I guess.
WOMAN: Try to tell yourself that.
MAN: I do. It's the only thing that keeps me from punching a hole in the goddamn wall sometimes. That and I'm afraid of hitting a stud.

[Long pause. WOMAN laughs quietly.]

WOMAN: What are we talking about?
MAN: What?
WOMAN: No, don't get defensive.
MAN: [trying different tones, trying to find one that doesn't sound defensive] I'm not. I'm--I'm not.
WOMAN: It's all a lot of nonsense, though. All this nonsense about other people.
MAN: Why is it nonsense?
WOMAN: We're just the same as everyone else. We're just people.
MAN: Well now wait a minute, what does that mean?
WOMAN: It means that we're--everyone is in the same position and--I don't know.

[Pause. MAN picks up another fry with his spoon. WOMAN laughs quietly. MAN laughs back. He gets a little wine in his spoon and drinks it. He looks for something else to do and uses the spoon to scratch his scalp. They are both laughing now.]

MAN: This food stinks, by the way.
WOMAN: Let's leave without paying.
MAN: Really?
WOMAN: No, of course not.

[Short pause.]

MAN: No, let's consider this.
WOMAN: I wasn't serious.
MAN: We paid for food. And for satisfaction. But we didn't get satisfaction. We weren't satisfied.
WOMAN: We paid for the food itself. The ingredients, and the wages of the people who prepared it for us.

[MAN considers this. He is deflated.]

MAN: All right, yes.
WOMAN: OK. Pay and let's get out of here.

[MAN checks his pockets. He can't find his wallet. He pats down everything.]

MAN: I can't--I can't find my wallet.
WOMAN: What?
MAN: I can't find my wallet. Do you have any money?
WOMAN: No! No, I don't, you told me not to bring any.
MAN: I didn't bring my wallet either.
WOMAN: What? How could you do that?
MAN: OK, just calm down. We're going to have to make for the door. You take the check.
WOMAN: Me? Oh no, I don't--
MAN: Yes! Take the check, put your napkin in it, or something. Make it look like you're putting money in there.
WOMAN: Oh, I don't like this. I don't like this at all.
MAN: Calm down! Just focus we have to--OK here, while you're putting the napkin in the check, I'll make for the door. You take my wallet and meet me outside.
WOMAN: All right. I--
MAN: Ha!
WOMAN: Oh, that's awful! I was worried.
MAN: Worried about what?
WOMAN: That you didn't have your money.
MAN: You know how easy it would be to walk out of here without paying if we didn't want to?
WOMAN: Well I don't want to try.
MAN: You never want to try anything.
WOMAN: Neither do you.
MAN: Neither does anyone.
WOMAN: What does that mean?
MAN: Who knows.