Yellow (Completed ✔️)

Scene V

(DIANNE is sitting at a bar, drinking and reading a book. It is mid-afternoon. It is nearly dead save for a group of three other women sitting at a table away from DIANNE. NIKKI, one of the girls at the table, goes up to the bar to get another drink, but stops when she sees DIANNE.)

NIKKI: Hey, are you alright?

DIANNE: Hmmm...? Oh, yes, I'm fine, thank you. Why do you ask?

NIKKI: You just look lonely. And cold. Like you could use a nice cuddle-bug. (DIANNE laughs.) You wanna come join us? We're going over to Kylee's house for some fun later on, if you know what I mean.

DIANNE: Oh, I'm... No, thank you.

NIKKI: You sure? You look like you could use some loosening up.

DIANNE: I'm not... into that.

NIKKI: Not into what? Sex?

DIANNE: No. I mean I'm not gay.

NIKKI: Ah, yes, I see. That would explain why you're here. At a gay bar. At- (She checks the watch on her wrist.) 2 o'clock in the afternoon. (DIANNE stares at NIKKI, and then chuckles awkwardly. Then NIKKI points to DIANNE's wedding band.) You're married?

(DIANNE looks down at her ring finger. She stares at it for a moment too long, as if deciding whether or not to admit to it.)

DIANNE: I, uh... No, I'm not. (She laughs again, then reaches to pull the band off and tucks it in her pocket.) Sorry, that's so embarrassing. But I like to... fool myself, you know? Play pretend.

NIKKI: Right, sure. Don't we all.

DIANNE: Yes. Anyhow, thank you for your offer, but I think I'll pass.

NIKKI: That's alright. (She shrugs, and then starts to head back to the group, then hesitates, and turns back to DIANNE.) So, why are you here, then? If you're not gay.

DIANNE: I don't... I don't know.

NIKKI: So you're confused? I get that. I think most of us go through that phase every now and again. (Her friends have gotten up and are headed towards to exit. She shoos them on and turns her full attention to DIANNE.) Age thirteen to twenty two for me.

DIANNE: Oh. (She fully closes her book, now completely interested.) Was it... hard?

NIKKI: Well, sure. Especially coming from a stick-up-their-ass religious kind of family. My mom was a teacher at a Catholic school. (She holds out her hand suddenly.) My name is Nikki, but the way.

DIANNE: (Taking her hand.) Nikki? Is that short for Nichole?

NIKKI: Nicola, actually. Its-a Italiana.

DIANNE: Oh! Do you speak Italian?

NIKKI: Hell no. English? Duh. Spanish? Sure thing. German, why not? French? Hell yeah. Even got some Mandarin in there. But not italian.

DIANNE: You speak all those languages? (NIKKI nods.) That's amazing. But why not italian?

NIKKI: Call it spite if you will. My dad used to try and teach me when I was younger, but he's a dick so I never paid attention to him. I even hated his last name. Milani? I sound like a damn wine brand. Like something your drunk nana drowns in when she's trying to escape her sad, lonely childhood.

DIANNE: Nicola Milani. (She laughs.) I guess it does.

NIKKI: Exactly. But hey, I figured if I'm going to be avoiding the parentals even on holidays, the least I could do is keep the last name. Plus, hey, I can pull exotic off well enough, don't you think? That always draws 'em in.