I stomp stage left and swing my feather boa dramatically around my neck, glancing back at my onstage husband, Ronald, giving him a look that could kill.
“All this time, Ronald. How could you?”
He approaches but I turn away, sticking my nose defiantly up in the air.
“Helen, I-“
Before he gets his sentence out, I spin around and slap him across the face. The audience gasps. The slap is a bit ha...