Soul Mates

Soul Mates
By Doc Walton

The curtain is open as the audience files in. The set is dark except for center stage where a park bench is illuminated by a spotlight. When the audience is seated, the curtain closes for a moment and then reopens to a lighted stage where a woman sits on the bench. A man comes from stage right and sits beside her.

Woman: What took you so long?
Man: Huh? What took me so long? Took me so long to what?
Woman: To find me.
Man: Find you? I don’t even know you!
Woman: Sure you do. I’m the woman, you’ve been looking for.
Man: Really? What makes you think I’ve been looking for anybody?
Woman: Well, you’re mid twenties, attractive, nicely dressed and you’re… not wearing a wedding ring.
Man: Nice deductions there, Mentalist, but what makes you think it’s you I’m looking for? I mean like you in particular.
Woman: Because you walked over and sat next to me. You don’t appear to need a rest. You’re not waiting for someone else, and the view from this bench isn’t anything special. You sat down because I was here and you thought you might strike up a conversation. You thought a conversation might lead to something else… and besides that…
Man: (interrupting) Whoa, whoa, whoa there Gypsy Woman! You’re going too fast. My crystal ball is not as clear as yours. How can you be certain, I’m the one you’re looking for?
Woman: That’s easy. Do you like reading, movies and dogs?
Man: Well sure, but doesn’t everybody?
Woman: Do you like dancing, sports and long walks?
Man: Of course.
Woman: Do you want children, a boy and a girl if possible, vote Democratic, and consider yourself spiritual, but not religious?
Man: I do. All those things. But how do you know?
Woman: I’m not sure how. I just do. I’ve been sitting here thinking about you in general terms and…well, here you are. I knew you would come because, I suppose, this was meant to be and…
Man: (interrupting) Now wait just a minute. You’re getting a little spooky here. I don’t believe in predestination.
Woman: Of course you don’t. But you don’t believe in coincidence either. What you do believe in is intention, and so do I. We both intended to have this happen.
Man: (chuckling) Oh we did? Is that right? Okay let’s say we did. And now here we are just like you… intended. Tell me what happens next.
Woman: What happens next is you look at me. REALLY look at me. And I do the same with you.

They stare at each other for a little while. Man is sort of grinning at first, but then becomes very serious.

Man: Okay, you’re as beautiful up close as you are from a distance. Is that what I am supposed to see?
Woman: Not really. I was hoping you would look past that. Maybe see me as I really am.
Man: I give up. How are you really?
Woman: Light hearted generally…But serious about this in particular.
Man: I get that, I really do. But maybe you’ve picked the wrong guy. I mean serious would be the last word anyone would use to describe me.
Woman: I didn’t pick you. We picked each other. And, oh, you’re serious enough. Behind those twinkling baby blues and your ever ready smile, I see someone who is looking at me like…like I’ve caught his attention.
Man: Ha! Okay you got me. This is serious – I’m not quite sure why yet - but it’s also fun! I mean how often do I get to sit on a bench with a beautiful woman and have her stare at me like I was someone special? Wait, don’t answer that! I already know. This is a first. Now if you’ll just say something funny to break this…this tension, maybe we can run off and join the circus together.
Woman: No chance on the funny. I like this tension.
Man: You know what? I think I like it too. What do we do now?
Woman: I see no reason not to kiss.
Man: (leaning in) Me either.

They kiss. They separate. They kiss again. Man pulls back suddenly.

Man: Wait wait wait wait! This is going too fast. I don’t know anything about you.
Woman: Well, what do you want to know?
Man: (clearly flustered) Lemme think, lemme think… I don’t know… what’s your favorite color?
Woman: Blue.
Man: Mine’s red. Are you a saver or a thrower?
Woman: I only keep essentials.
Man: I save everything. Dogs?
Woman: Cats.
Man: Comfort food?
Woman: Italian.
Man: Mine’s Mexican. Hmmmmmmmmn.

They a pause a moment and stare straight ahead. He’s blank eyed, thinking. She’s smiling softly to herself. Finally man turns back to her.

Man: Movies! I like action and comedies.
Woman: Romance for me, and Drama.
Man: Music? Rock, right?
Woman: Sorry, show tunes.
Man: This is not looking good, not looking good at all.

They now speak rapidly.

Man: Coffee.
Woman: Tea.
Man: Dresses?
Woman: Jeans.
Man: Wine?
Woman: White.
Man: I like Red. Vanilla?
Woman: Chocolate.
Man: Ford?
Woman: Chevy.
Man: Beatles?
Woman: Stones.
Man: Hunt?
Woman: Be serious.
Man: Fish?
Woman: Only if you do the worm thing.


There’s another pause

Man: (excitedly) Leno!?
Woman: (with a shrug of shoulders) Letterman.

Another pause.

Man: TV in the bedroom?
Woman: Not a chance, no, never.
Man: Cook?
Woman: I will if you will.


Man: All right then. It’s all becoming clear.
Woman: Yes it is, isn’t it?
Man: We have nothing in common.
Woman: Doesn’t matter.
Man: Why’s that?
Woman: Because we’re made for each other.
Man: Well I sure don’t see that, but can we try that kissing thing again?

They kiss. As they part from the kiss they are both very quiet…staring at each other. Man finally speaks.

Man: I have one more question.
Woman: What’s that?
Man: Will you marry me?
Woman: Of course I will. That’s why I’m here.

He takes her hand and they rise together. As they leave you can still hear them talking.
Woman: Golf?
Man: Yes! Golf!
Woman: Slow dancing?
Man: I love slow dancing!
Woman: See, I told ya. We’re made for each other. Red Sox?
Man: Yes! Red Sox!

As they exit stage left, the woman pauses, turns and looks back at the bench with a perplexed expression on her face, as if she is considering something.

Man: What is it?
Woman: (shaking her head gently) Nothing.

They turn and leave. As they do so another couple, about ten years older, enters stage right and sits on the bench.

Man: You know, Saturday is our anniversary.
Woman: Of course I know. How could I forget. I’m sorry, what was your name again?
Man: (Laughing) Can you believe it’s been ten years?
Woman: Clearly proof of divine intervention.
Man: I’m trying to be serious here.
Woman: TRYING to be serious is my job. Lightening up a little is yours.
Man: Hey, come on, I can be funny.
Woman: Yeah, you and the Pope. Couple a laugh riots.
Man: You used to think I was funny. Back when we first met.
Woman: Back when we first met I thought Dick Cheney was a stand-up comic. I mean who knew?
Man: Is there something bothering you? You seem a little, what’s the word?…edgier than usual.
Woman: (She’s shuffling her feet, looking at the ground.) I’ve just come from that new clinic over on Broad. I’ve been feeling kind of punk lately and I’ve missed a coupla periods…again.
Man: Did you do the, you know, pee on the strip thing?
Woman: I never bother with that anymore. I’ve been disappointed too many times. I just want to know why this keeps happening.
Man: Come on. We’ve had all the tests. There’s nothing wrong. We’ve just not been lucky that way and maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. ( A short pause, then:) I mean, think about it. I work all the time. I’d be the guy with a coffee mug on his desk that reads, “World’s Worst Dad.”
Woman: Oh you’re not so bad. I’d be the one. Can you imagine me changing a diaper? I can’t even stand to touch a chocolate bar that’s starting to melt. Yuk.
Man: I know! I know! Really. I mean if I had any parenting skills I wouldn’t still be trying to teach our dog to sit!
Woman: Don’t be so hard on yourself Dear. He’s only six. You’re right though. We are sadly lacking. What would we do if we got a kid who cried a lot, or wouldn’t go to bed or wouldn’t eat his spinach?
Man: We’d have to consider drugs.
Woman: For us or the kid?
Man: And what if he turned out like that Tazmanian tyke next door?
Woman: You mean Demolition Danny? The world’s first nine year old Hell’s Angel. That’s probably not fair, though, Danny’s possessed or something. But I do like his tattoos.
Man: Can you imagine us at a parent/teachers conference? I was terrified of old Miss Jankowicz and she’s still teaching at Ebberly Elementary. What if we had to meet with her?
Woman: Forget her. I went to Catholic school. Our Lady of Immaculate Ear Twisting. I’m not kidding. I still have Nun nightmares. No no no no. No teacher conferences for me.
Man: Me neither. The whole parenting thing is way over-rated if you ask me. Do you ever notice how people with kids are always just gushing about how Johnny did this and Suzie did that? They always have that messianic gleam in their eyes like they’re trying to sell you something.
Woman: That’s true. Even when they tell you bad things their kids do, they say it like it’s all just so darling. It’s weird I tell ya, weird.
Man: So maybe in the long run it’s better that we don’t…

A phone ring interrupts him. ( A catchy ring of some sort would be useful) Woman takes a cell from her pocket.

Woman. Yeah, this is she. Yes. Yes. You gotta be… Yeah. Sure. I’ll stop by tomorrow.
Puts phone back in her pocket. Turns to man.

Woman: That was the clinic.
Man: Yeah?
Woman: I’m pregnant!
Man. You’re kidding!
Woman: (Smiling like crazy) I never kid, I have no sense of humor.
Man: (Laughing) We’re going to have a baby! We’re going to have a baby! Awesome! Let’s… let’s go celebrate. Get a bottle of champagne or something.
Woman: (Rising) No booze for me… Daddy. I’M PREGNANT!

As they exit stage left, woman stops to look back at the bench and smiles. It is as if she is memorizing something. The moment perhaps. Another couple enters stage right. They are older, young retirees, dressed in sweats. They enter doing that funny walk fast, heal toe, arms pumping thing.

Woman: Let’s stop here for a minute.
Man: Good idea. I’m beat.

They sit on the bench, catching their breath.

Woman: Whose idea was this anyway?
Man: What?
Woman: Walking.
Man: I thought it was yours.
Woman: Yeah, but I was just kidding.
Man: Now you tell me.

Woman: I’ve got a pain in my side.
Man: I’ve got a pain in my everything.
Woman: Maybe, since we’re both older than dirt, we should consider something less vigorous. How does strolling sound to you?
Man: Sounds too fast. I’m thinking aerobic napping is more like it.
Woman: (Laughing) Full contact dessert consumption for me.
Man: (Also laughing) Now you’re talking. We’d be World Class.
Woman: (Looking around) Well, here we are at our special place. You realize this is the exact spot where we met?
Man: Of course I do! And it’s also where we found out you were pregnant for the first time.
Woman: Well then, this has to be our lucky spot.
Man: Okay. I definitely buy that!
Woman: I’ll bet this bench is magic.
Man: Now you’re going loopy on me. Magic? I don’t think so.
Woman: Well I do. And I think we should put it to a test. We should wish for something.
Man: Okay. What do you want? I mean besides dessert.
Woman: I don’t know. You think of something.
Man: Well, let’s see. We’ve got pretty much everything we need. We’re happy, all our kids are happy and doing okay. What could we wish for?
Woman: We could always use a little more money. I mean you’d like to play golf in Scotland and I’ve always wanted to see Paris. How about that?
Man: Well there you go. Our wish is made. But now we’ve got to get going. It’s starting to cool down.

They leave stage left. The set darkens. Once again, only the bench is lit by a spotlight.
Off stage a phone rings.

Man: Hello. Publisher’s Clearing Hou... no no I don’t want any magazines. What’s that you say? I’ve won how much!

Curtain closes.