A
MARGARET. What is it like?
ANNA. What?
MARGARET. Being married.
ANNA. What is it like?
MARGARET. I mean…technically.
ANNA. Oh. Why are you asking me?
MARGARET. Who can I ask? And I cannot stand being so ignorant.
ANNA. Look, Margaret, this is just not something I can talk about.
MARGARET. It is so demeaning this not knowing.
ANNA. It is just not something people talk about. I have NEVER heard it talked about.
MARGARET. Oh please. I am thirty-six years old and will likely take my chastity to my grave. But I simply cannot bear the ignorance. The ignorance, Anna.
ANNA. Margaret…not even my own mother…not even on the night before…you promise you won’t tell anyone?
MARGARET. I promise.
ANNA. Anyone.
MARGARET. You have my word.
MARGARET. Well?
ANNA. You want me to start?
MARGARET. How can I start, I don’t know anything.
ANNA. Well, what do you want to know?
MARGARET. What does a man look like?
ANNA. What do you want to know that for?
MARGARET. I do not want to die without knowing what half the human race looked like.
ANNA. Why not? I will.
MARGARET. Really?
ANNA. Nightclothes.
MARGARET. Excuse me.
ANNA. Night…clothes.
MARGARET. Oh. (Pause) Couldn’t you just …approximate?
ANNA. NO. I don’t know what they look like. Nobody knows what they look like.
MARGARET. Does a man actually…I mean does he…is there actual…I mean does he actually…
ANNA. Yes.
MARGARET. What?
ANNA. YES.
MARGARET. (Pause) How?
ANNA. What do you mean “how”?
MARGARET. I mean…logistically. How does…what do you do with your legs?
ANNA. Oh for god sake.
MARGARET. Do you enjoy it?
ANNA. Well…it’s not unpleasant, once you get used to it. But I really do not see what they see in it, if that’s what you mean. THEY like it awfully.