This month, Wayfare is delighted to present the three winners of our third annual ten-minute play competition. Congratulations to our third-place winner, Amy Banta.
Scene: A middle-aged couple are driving in their ever-so-practical, midsize SUV to a weekend getaway from their kids. WHITNEY is driving. She’s on edge. HUGH is not sure how he ended up sitting in the passenger seat while his wife white-knuckles her way through what is otherwise a serene country road. The mood in the car is . . . uncomfortable. (WHITNEY’s driving may have something to do with that.)
HUGH
. . . So . . . Notice how the engine runs smoother now . . .? I got the oil changed before we left . . . so it would run smooth for you. . . . Remind me why you’re so eager to drive, again?
WHITNEY
(tightly wound) If you drive you’ll pick the music and I’ll fall asleep. Which I’m usually grateful for. But not today.
HUGH
. . . We’re not listening to any music now . . .
WHITNEY
I don’t want music.
HUGH
. . .
WHITNEY
. . .
HUGH
. . . It’s going to be a long drive, isn’t—
WHITNEY
We need to talk.
HUGH
—it. . . Should have known this weekend was a set-up.
WHITNEY
Excuse me?
HUGH
In our fourteen years of marriage every romantic getaway has been my idea. The first time you recommend one . . . should have known: set-up.
WHITNEY
And what, exactly, is this supposed to be a set-up for?
HUGH
Not romance . . .
WHITNEY
You don’t know that.
HUGH
Your hackles are raised.
WHITNEY
I don’t have hackles. (HUGH reaches for her hackles—which are definitely raised) Hugh!
HUGH
See? Hackles. (WHITNEY swats his hand away) Forgive me for trying to touch my wife . . .
WHITNEY
Hugh, this is important.
HUGH
Yeah. I’m listening. (but not really)
WHITNEY
I think we should have another baby.
HUGH
Not this again!
WHITNEY
Yes, this again.
HUGH
. . . Set up! —Did you just lock the doors?
WHITNEY
We’re having this conversation whether you want it or not.
HUGH
(a tense beat) Three kids, Whitney. That’s the plan. That’s what we agreed to. Three. Three kids, three years apart, after graduate school. We’ve done that. We’ve multiplied, we’ve replenished. Mission Accomplished. Bring on the aircraft carrier, roll out the banner, fly the fighter jets. We’re done. You’re done. You said so yourself. “I’m so glad I don’t have to do that again.” Your exact words after Bradley was born.
WHITNEY
I lied.
HUGH
You were in earnest. I have the video on my phone if you’d like to see it.
WHITNEY
I didn’t know I was lying at the time.
HUGH
That’s just your hormones making you forget.
WHITNEY
This isn’t hormones.
HUGH
Everything’s hormones for you lately. You have a most egalitarian endocrine system: equal-opportunity misery for all.
WHITNEY
Hugh!
HUGH
The beautiful thing is, it’s the twenty-first century outside; we have ways of controlling these things.
WHITNEY
I had the doctor take my IUD out this morning.
HUGH
(a pregnant pause) Set up!
WHITNEY
If you’d just engage in a reasonable conversation with me, I wouldn’t have to—
HUGH
I am the only one being reasonable here.
WHITNEY
I think God’s trying to tell us something.
HUGH
Did he tell you to sabotage your birth control?
WHITNEY
It’s not sabotage if I tell you about it.
HUGH
After the fact.
WHITNEY
But before the act. Eh? Eh . . . ? (the joke doesn’t land, also HUGH’s hackles might be raised) . . . I brought back-up methods, just in case.
HUGH
Oh goody . . .
WHITNEY
I tried talking to you before we left, but you haven’t exactly been in the listening mood.
WHITNEY
Everything’s stress for you lately.
HUGH
Including our stress-free, get-away weekend, apparently. (a pause) So, what is God trying to tell you? Because he’s made our family plenty clear to me.
WHITNEY
Ah yes. Your vision.
HUGH
I saw our children before they were born. All three of them, playing in the creek at the cabin. They looked just like the picture you took last summer.
WHITNEY
I know. It was a beautiful vision . . . It still is. Three gap-toothed kids, alternating boys and girls, alternating hair color . . . I didn’t come into our marriage with a pre-planned family courtesy of some Young Women’s lesson, so when you woke me up that night on our honeymoon, I was happy to share your vision. Happy to be assured there would be a family in our future. That we didn’t have to worry about it at that moment because God would take care of it . . . And then you started planning . . . We didn’t have to figure everything out by the end of our honeymoon you know.
HUGH
We were laying the foundation for our marriage; setting our house in order so we could enjoy our future together.
WHITNEY
We could have enjoyed that moment together. (a pause) And four years later—as per the plan—out the children came, just as you’d foreseen. Boy, girl, boy. Dark, light, dark . . . You want to know something? With each pregnancy, I secretly hoped our children would come out different.
HUGH
. . . Wh . . . why?
WHITNEY
I don’t know. Maybe subconsciously I knew I’d want more children . . . eventually. Maybe I just . . . didn’t want to be limited by your vision.
HUGH
You should have said something. A long time ago.
WHITNEY
I didn’t know that’s what those feelings meant at the time.
HUGH
Then how do you know what your feelings mean now?! Have you prayed about this?
WHITNEY
Of course!
HUGH
And . . . ? What’s the answer?
WHITNEY
. . . No answer . . . Just the same ever-present emptiness in my heart, followed by the same boiler-plate message: “God loves you, and you need to work this out for yourself.”
HUGH
So, God’s not telling us to have another baby.
WHITNEY
Well wouldn’t it be easier if he did!
HUGH
I’m very content with our family the way it is.
WHITNEY
I’m not.
HUGH
Whatever your discontent, a baby isn’t going to fix it. Babies don’t solve . . . marital problems . . . You want to know why your heart is empty? Because our marriage is empty. When’s the last time you reached for me? Or at least, didn’t flinch when I touched you?
WHITNEY
. . . Hugh, I—
HUGH
I know I haven’t been in the listening mood lately, but I’m listening now. And I want to ask you, humbly . . . what it is—really—that you want from me . . . that you’re not getting . . .
WHITNEY
. . . A baby . . . !
HUGH
You’re not thinking clearly!
WHITNEY
Why is it so hard for you to believe me?! Because God hasn’t shown you in advance what another child will look like for our family? Well, he hasn’t shown me either. It’s called faith, Hugh.
HUGH
Faith in what, Whitney? God, or yourself?
WHITNEY
I’m sorry, God doesn’t come right out and talk to me—or show me visions—so the only thing I have to work with is myself. Maybe that’s the real test. What you do when the only judgement you have to rely on is your own.
HUGH
I trust my contentment.
WHITNEY
Maybe it’s not good for Man to be content.
HUGH
Is that the secret Relief Society motto? “Comfort the weary, strengthen the weak, and never let the men be content.”
WHITNEY
You act like I have a personal vendetta against your happiness.
HUGH
Don’t you? (a frustrated pause) You’re not being rational.
WHITNEY
Well maybe a baby shouldn’t be a rational decision!
HUGH
Is that what God is trying to tell us?
WHITNEY
I think, maybe, yes.
HUGH
This isn’t something you can maybe.
WHITNEY
Maybe it is! Maybe that’s the point. Maybe we need more maybe in our lives. (a pause) I sometimes wonder if there isn’t a beauty to living together normally and letting the children come.
HUGH
We dismissed that notion fourteen years ago.
WHITNEY
After fourteen years of emptiness, maybe we should reconsider it. Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like to make love, I mean actually—make—love, and not know the outcome in advance? To just be in the passion of that moment and give it over to God?
A pause. —Maybe—HUGH is reconsidering. . .
HUGH
. . . How many children you planning to let come?
WHITNEY
At our age? (shrugs)
HUGH
No. No. No, no, no. This is a stupid plan. This is . . . stupid.
WHITNEY
This isn’t a plan at all. Were you even listening?!
HUGH
—Yes!— That’s how I know it’s a stupid plan. Because I was listening!
WHITNEY screeches the car to a halt.
WHITNEY
Get out!
HUGH
—No.—
WHITNEY
I said, get out!
HUGH
Make me.
WHITNEY
Get. Out.
HUGH
No.
WHITNEY
Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out!
HUGH
(amused, but trying not to show it) I can’t, the doors are locked.
WHITNEY
(unamused, unlocks the doors) There. Now go.
HUGH
Hmmm, no.
Infuriated, WHITNEY exits the car, opens the passenger door, and tries to pull HUGH out. It’s a losing proposition for WHITNEY, which only further amuses and infuriates the respective parties. At the height of this amusing and infuriating display, a semi-truck blares its horn, rattling the car as it narrowly passes by. HUGH pulls WHITNEY to safety just in time.
HUGH
(holding WHITNEY tight, rattled) That was close.
WHITNEY
(letting HUGH hold her) It just came from nowhere.
Their embrace sparks a romantic moment. Maybe even a reconciliation. The romance . . . escalates.
HUGH
Wanna move this to the back seat?
WHITNEY
Eww. On top of the Goldfish crumbs?
HUGH
Alright. We’ll do it here.
WHITNEY
(giggling) Hugh! We can finish this up at the cabin. It’s not that far.
HUGH
No, no. The Deus ex Mack Truck has intervened on your behalf. This is your moment. Seize it before I start thinking clearly.
WHITNEY realizes she’s about to get what she wants. And that may be the most terrifying thing.
She reaches for HUGH.
(END OF PLAY)
Amy Banta is an emerging playwright from Holladay, UT. She studied economics at BYU, worked twelve years in the military-industrial complex, and is now attempting to raise three children—all of which temper her playwriting with a healthy dose of cynicism and heart.
Art by Emil Doepler.
