Tea and Sympathy

Nine years later; I was the district's athletic director and Penny was the principal at her school. I had gone a lot further in life than I ever imagined; which was mainly due to the strength that I drew from my marriage. No matter what storms I might encounter on the open sea. I knew that I always had a safe harbor to return to. That was an article of faith.

More important, I never doubted Penny's devotion. Penny worked hard to prove that. Truth be told, she probably worked harder than I did. I always saw a cheerful face when I got home. I normally arrived a little later than she did because of the after-school component of high school sports. But, Penny always had dinner ready; faithfully without complaint.

Like most married couples, Penny and I were interested in different things. We were aware that our individual interests would separate us. So, we tried to arrange our pastimes to get the maximum out of our time together.

I was involved in athletics, both as a coach and on their Board. I also played senior-amateur soccer with my fellow Huns. There are a lot of guys from Germany in that part of Wisconsin. In fact, it seemed like half the team spoke German, or Swedish. I was a nobody when I played in college. But we had all lost a step; and at six foot-four I ruled the air. So, I was a bit of a standout among the old-farts.

Most of the summer we had games on Sunday afternoons, and practice one night a week. We played at Keller Park, which is right next to the little creek that gave the town its name. It was a short drive from the house. Penny would faithfully sit and watch. It wasn't Camp Randall and I wasn't destined for the NFL. But, her presence told me how dedicated she was to me.

On the other hand, Penny was born to be in front of audiences. She could be standing on the sidelines with twenty other cheerleaders and she would be the one who would draw your attention. She is THAT charismatic. She had many years of dance prior to spending four years performing in front of 80,000 screaming fans. So, it just seemed natural that she would get into amateur theater.

The theater company that Penny joined was twenty minutes away in Eau Claire. She wasn't in every play. But when she was, she was gone from 6:00 PM to 9:00 PM three days a week. Sometimes, she would even stay later for additional rehearsal. She always had small parts, mostly whenever they needed a dancer. But, one day she came home glowing.

She said, "I have wonderful news. They're doing a revival of Tea and Sympathy and guess who they want for the lead?" I said with fake enthusiasm, "Sophia Vergara, Jennifer Lawrence?" She smacked me and said, "No silly!! ME!!" I was happy for her. Eau Claire isn't the Great White Way. But it was the biggest town in the area and it gave my lovely wife the chance to strut her stuff in front of a large audience.

Frankly, I had never heard of the play. I must have studied it in college. But I couldn't recall anything about it. So, I did what any good nerd would do. I Googled it. The story was the usual 1950s alienation bull-crap. It was the age of Eisenhower; when men were men, and women were June Cleaver. It was the decade when gay people were either buried deep in the closet, or living in France. The leading men of the day were super-macho guys like John Wayne, Randolph Scott and Rock Hudson. Fortunately for the movie industry, one of them had no reason to emigrate, and the other two didn't speak French.

I began to feel a little uneasy as I read the synopsis. Tea and Sympathy is about a boy who is cultured and gentle and sensitive. Those qualities would get him regularly laid, in our post-feminist era. But, in the 1950s, that sort of "effeminate" behavior led to scorn, ridicule and frequent ass-kickings. His primary antagonist was the macho closet queen who ran the school dormitory. In modern terms the guy would be called a sociopath. But in the 1950s, he was the leader of the pack.

The guy's long-suffering wife spends the entire play trying to get him to act a little less like an asshole. But manly-men don't change their spots. So, employing classic female logic, the wife finishes the play by fucking her husband's victim; just to get the poor fellow back on his feet so-to-speak. I probably don't need to tell you who the Director had in mind to play THAT part?

I am not one to stand in the way of artistic expression. But I also wanted to know exactly how far Penny was expected to go to sell a happy ending. THAT question was going to have to be posed with subtlety. Because it would just be SO wrong to make it look like I was questioning her fidelity.

The easiest way to do that was casually. So, at dinner I said, "How are the rehearsals going? You don't talk about them?" She smiled and said breezily, "We read it through a couple of times and we are working on basic blocking. They are starting from the beginning so they haven't really gotten to me yet."

I said nonchalantly, "I hear there is a hot scene in the end; even some simulated sex. How are you going to handle that?" She grimaced and said, "I don't know. Ron's just talked about it in vague terms. He said that John and I are going to have to persuade the audience that something is really happening, or they won't get the point of the play." My heart sank a bit.

Then she brightened and said, "It's a little embarrassing knowing that I have to act like I am having sex with a kid who is ten years younger than me. But at least I get the final line." Her entire demeanor changed. She said, in a low sensual voice, "Years from now - when you speak of this - and you will - be kind." She gave me an eager look. It was like a Labrador Retriever had just brought back a bird and was awaiting approval. I clapped my hands and said "Bravo!!"

Her ability to transform herself into a different person blew me away. My beautiful wife, the woman I had known and loved for almost a decade had just revealed some serious acting chops. I said with a big fake smile plastered on my face, "Is that where the sex starts?" She said, "As far as I understand, we are supposed to leave the audience with the idea that he is finally having his first sexual experience. The whole plot turns on the fact that he failed the first time. That's why he is planning to kill himself"

I continued to look calm. My phony equanimity even amazed me. I said, "Wow, that sounds intense. Are you going to actually kiss him?" She laughed and said, "Oh, I'm going to have to do a whole lot more than THAT!!" I just sat there staring calmly and attentively; with my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. My ability to hide my current feelings was a tribute to MY acting chops.

She looked slightly disconcerted and said, "I don't know what Ron has in mind. He's unconventional and he says that the original ending is dated." I said with growing trepidation, "What does THAT mean." She sighed and said wearily; it was like she had grown tired of thinking about it, "He says that the ending is constrained by 1950s morality and that it has to be updated to make it believable." I didn't like the tone of THAT. I said, still trying to keep my voice neutral, "So you will do more than just kiss him?" She said, "I'll find that out then they get around to blocking out the final scene."

I must have looked troubled because she added, "In the movie, she saves him from suicide by giving him one night of passion. I think Ron wants us lying down rather than standing against a tree. That's how they did the stage version; they are on a golf course when it happens." I tried to sound nonchalant as I said, "Well, tell me how it turns out. That's your big scene, right?" She nodded. I said, "I know that you'll bring down the house no matter how Ron decides to play it." Then we moved on to other things. There was no point in raising my blood pressure any higher than it already was.

The whole dreadful thing just sat there; staring at me like a vulture in a tree. I frequently wondered how the Hollywood types managed to endure their significant others making the two-backed-beast for the sake of art. I was dead-certain that Penny wouldn't understand why her playacting would cause me any heartburn. She loved me. We both knew THAT and she had no designs on her co-star John. I had never met John. I knew that he was a student at UW-Eau Claire and just a boy. But that was all I knew about him. The Director was another matter entirely.

I had met him at other Playhouse events. Thirty years ago, the dude was in a forgettable movie. Now, he was in the drama department at UW-EC. Because of that, he considered himself to be the top of the food chain among the Illuminati of Eau Claire County. I had met him before and in the dictionary under, "pompous asshole", it said, "See him." I had a feeling that he loved subservience; and sacrificing a beautiful and sensual woman on the altar of his raging ego would give him a huge woody.

Frankly, the thought of Penny in a passionate embrace with another man just killed me; whether it was "just pretend" or not. The thought of another man kissing her lips and holding her gorgeous body threw me into fits of pea-green jealousy; especially because she would be simulating fucking him.

I knew that it wasn't real. I knew that she was totally committed to me. I knew that they would find some way to keep everybody fully clothed. This was rural Wisconsin for God's sake!! But at the same time, I also knew that they would probably swap tongues and that she would have to sound like she was reaching the thrilling "climax" of the play; so-to-speak.

She was rock steady during the month before show-time. There were no variations in her treatment of me or her attitude in general. In fact, if you characterized her behavior during that period; she was more elementary school principal, than she was theatrical femme-fatale. It never crossed my mind that she wasn't doing exactly what she told me she was doing at the theater. That was because she would call me just to chat, when she wasn't needed on stage.

Opening night finally arrived. It was one of those breathtakingly beautiful Wisconsin summer days. Penny and I had a light dinner at the Hot Spot before she drove in to the theater. Penny had a lot of things to do to get ready for the night's performance. So, I was going to dress and come later. She was excited and incredibly nervous, which was something new for her.

I said, trying to relax her, "Don't worry; you're going to steal the show." She gave me an anxious smile and said, "I just want to get the first night out of the way. The jitters will die down once I've been through it. But pretending that I am somebody else for two straight hours is an unreal and very intense experience. It's like you're walking around in a dream."

I said, "I've never done anything like that. So, I really can't relate. But, if it gives you any consolation your biggest fan is going to be sitting front row center. I know that you will sell Laura Reynolds better than Deborah Kerr."

She did that melting thing that women do when their emotions are riled up. She took my hand and said, "Our love is the most precious thing in the world to me. It makes anything possible. It will always be just you and me." She looked at her watch and said, "I've got to go. But I will see you outside the stage door as soon as the show is over."

It was opening night. I dressed up and made my way over to Eau Claire. The theater's parking lot was packed. So, I parked at the bank across the Chippewa and walked over the footbridge. It was a lot less hassle than fighting for a space on the other side of West Grand. Eau Claire is the big city so none of the theater patrons knew me and vice-versa. I was wearing my "opening night" suit, which coincidentally, was also my ONLY suit.

Theater is not a major pastime in my part of the State; hunting and fishing, yes; culture, not so much. Still, I was feeling like a real sophisticate, as I was escorted to my "dress circle" seat. Penny had gotten me the ticket and it was undoubtedly the place where the great and good of Eau Claire County sat.

The woman next to me was obviously one of the local doyens. Besides wearing enough gold to restock Montezuma's Temple, she was chatting about theater with the old guy sitting next to her. I presumed the dude was her husband. That's because he was ignoring her completely. It didn't matter whether the husband was listening, or not. My seat mate's aim was to demonstrate to everybody around her that she was cultured and they weren't.

Almost as soon as I sat down she turned to me and said excitedly, "Have you seen this play before?" I don't like prattling with strangers. But I had time to kill and I was nervous about the grand finale. So, I said, "No, in fact I have never been in this theater." That was an invitation to regale me with stories about all the shows she had seen, past and present. She said, "Ron Woods is a dramatic genius and the three stars of this show are brilliant.

I assumed that included Penny so I said, "Thank you, one of them is my wife." My seat-mate said somewhat skeptically, "YOU'RE married to that beautiful woman?" I said meekly, "I get that a lot." The woman said, "She's a dazzling talent, so deep and profound. You'll be stirred by the final scene."

The poor, clueless woman had no idea how stirred I ALREADY WAS, by the final scene. I tried to sound urbane as I said, "Were you at the dress-rehearsal last night?" She tittered and said, "Of course, I come to every presentation here." I thought to myself this woman seriously needs a life. Then she said something that totally bewildered me. She said, "You'll be very proud and impressed. Your wife brings real honesty to her portrayal."

What the fuck did THAT mean!! I almost said that out loud. Instead I mumbled in a slightly strangled voice, "It's a difficult scene for her." My seat-mate patted my hand in motherly agreement and said, "Yes, it is. But she is SO convincing." I was hoping that she didn't mean what I thought she meant. But, at that moment the house lights went down and I turned to the stage to contemplate my fate.

The play was pretentious shite; a collection of musty platitudes about manhood that might have been considered insight in the 1950s. I had heard some of the dialogue helping Penny with her lines. But listening to the actors spout all that clichéd crap was painful.

The kid must have been chosen because he was small and effeminate; exactly like the screenplay described him. He had skin so pale that it was almost translucent. He had a wispy little moustache and a thick mop of light brown hair. But, he was a very good actor. I didn't like the angst-ridden weakling he was portraying. But then again, brooding and self-pity were big in the '50s. He captured those emotions so believably that it made me wonder if he was as sappy in real life.

The husband looked like a truck driver. That was understandable. There are few guys in Eau Clair County with elite, prep-school backgrounds. Nevertheless, his performance was very convincing. I hated the character. He was a bully and a homophobic creep. The actor perfectly captured the essence of the guy's underlying homoeroticism. You just sensed that his character would be charismatic in the locker-room, and genuinely scary in the showers.

Then there was the love of my life. The other actors were good but she was luminescent. The character she was portraying was a woman of sensitivity and intellect, marginalized by the society that she lived in. She was clearly not in love with her spouse, maybe never had been; a total cultural misfit. She was condescended-to by her husband, a sex object for his adoring acolytes, and frequently reminded that her only purpose in life was to dispense "tea and sympathy."

Penny's interpretation was heart-rending. From the moment that she walked on stage you could sense her desperation, the claustrophobia that an intelligent and complex person would feel if they were trapped in an untenable situation. Understandably, her character gets emotionally invested in the other outcast; the boy.

You could see that she wasn't so much falling in love with him, as she was trying to rescue him from his victimizers; the worst of which was her husband. You could also see her coming to grips with her own victimhood; and gaining the personal strength to stand up to life. I just sat there in awe as the play wore on. I had no idea Penny was so deep. I suppose everybody underestimates their spouse. But Penny's acting was so powerful that she was intimidating.

She had gotten to the penultimate scene, the one where she discovers the boy's suicide note. She was smart enough to underplay her reaction. Instead of resorting to melodrama, she marched off stage with determination in her eyes. Her resolve aptly foreshadowed the events to come and changed the sense of her role. She wasn't dragged into sex by wantonness. She was a woman on a mission.

I had dreaded the final scene for six solid weeks. There had been a short kiss a couple of scenes earlier. It had been a peck. But still, it had caused shooting pains of jealousy. Now she was going to turn the boy into a man. Knowing how she planned to DO that almost made me get up and leave. But I was there for Penny's sake and I had to be strong.

The set was built around platforms on multiple levels. There was a low platform center-stage toward the front, almost jutting into the first row of seats. The Director obviously wanted to shove the denouement in everybody's face. So, the whole thing would play out not twenty feet from where I was sitting.

The stage was blacked out. There was some scurrying in the darkness while the scene was set. Then a single spotlight flicked on. It illuminated eight feet around the kid in intense white light. The set featured an indistinct bench and a ball-washer. That was dimly lit in the over-spill from the spotlight; just enough to suggest that it was a tee on a golf course.

The platform was covered in green artificial turf and the boy was lying on a blanket in the middle of the platform. He was propped up on his side, facing us, doing a convincing job of sobbing with shame. Then Penny stepped into the limelight from stage-left. She stood and looked down at him. Her beautiful face radiated love and compassion.

She had on a grey, 1950s Betty and Veronica style cashmere sweater, with the requisite string of pearls. However, her breathtaking tits were hoisted by a twenty-first century bra. That magnificent sight provoked a faint stirring in the audience.

She had on a pleated rayon skirt, which must have been all the rage with the gang at the soda fountain. Her marvelously muscled legs were set off by seamed nylons and those boxy heels that were so popular after World War II. I realized that the only way she could be holding the hose up was with a garter belt and that raised my anxiety level a notch.

She lay gracefully, downstage of the boy. She was in that classic female resting position, with the upstage leg lying flat and the downstage leg bent at the knee. Her face was dead-center in our spotlit vision. She began to talk lying on her back. I couldn't take my eyes off her gorgeous lips as she began her final speech. The audience was perfectly silent. All you could hear was Penny as she said, "Years from now - when you speak of this - and you will - be kind."

Then she gently reached over and guided his right hand to her left breast. He had to position his upper body over hers to do that. He was tentative at first. Then, he began to eagerly fondle her. You could hear her breath catch and then accelerate. He leaned down and her mouth opened wide. They swapped tongues with growing passion as the spotlight began to dim. Then he moved between her spread legs. Her hips rocked up, her legs elevated and she began to moan loudly, just as the stage went to pitch black and the curtain slammed shut.