27 Wagons Full of Cotton and Other Plays (19 page)

J
OE:
In my experience girls don’t always pop right out of their boudoirs the minute a guy calls for ‘em.

B
ILL:
No
?
But you sort of expect more speed of a swimming champ, (
calling
)
Hey! Myra!

M
YRA:
(
She faces the wall as though it were a mirror.
)
Yeh, Bill, I’m coming right out!

J
OE:
Excuse me, will you?

B
ILL:
Oh, yes. (
He faces Myra.
)

J
OE:
This Bill of yours is a son-of-a-bitch. If I’d stayed in the room with him another minute I’d have busted him one.

M
YRA:
Then you’d better stay out. ‘Cause I like him. What’re you doing tonight, Joe?

J
OE:
Stay home and write.

M
YRA:
You stay home and write too much. Broke? Here’s a dollar. Get you a date with that girl who writes poetry. Doris. She oughta bat out a pretty good sonnet under the proper influences. Oh, hell—I’m not gonna wear any stockings. Coming, Bill! Look! How is the back of my neck? Is it filthy? Christ! (
She sprays herself with perfume.
)
You gotta bathe three times a day to keep fresh in this weather. Doris. Is that her name? I bet that she could be had without too much effort!

J
OE:
Myra. Don’t talk that way.

M
YRA:
You kill me!

J
OE:
Naw, it doesn’t sound right in a kid your age.

M
YRA:
I’m twice your age! G’bye, Joe!

J
OE:
G’bye, Myra.

M
YRA:
(
She faces Bill with a dazzling smile.
)
Hello, darling!

B
ILL:
Hi. Let’s get outa this sweat-box.

M
YRA:
Yeah. (
They go out. The Movers come in with a dresser.
)

1
ST MOVER:
Easy.

2ND
M
OVER:
Got it?

1ST
M
OVER:
Yep. Who the fuck closed that door?

J
OE:
I’ll get it. Careful down those stairs.

S
ILVA:
(
glancing up from the magazine
)
A broken mirror is seven years’ bad luck.

J
OE:
Aw
. I
s that right? The stork must’ve dropped us through a whole bunch of ‘em when we were born. How’s the story?

S
ILVA:
It’s good strong stuff.

J
OE:
(
glancing at the title
)
Butterfly and the Tank. I read that one.

C
HILD:
(
from the street below
)
Fly, Sheepie, fly! Fly, Sheepie, fly!

J
OE:
(
reflectively
)
Fly, Sheepie, fly! You ever played that game?

S
ILVA:
Naw. Kids that play games are sissies in our neighborhood.

J
OE:
We played it. Myra an’ me. Up and down fire-escapes, in an’ out basements. . . . Jeez! We had a swell time. What happens to kids when they grow up?

S
ILVA:
They grow up. (
He turns a page.
)

J
OE:
Yeh, they grow up. (
The sound of roller-skates on the sidewalk rises in the silence, as the light fades. Only the door to the bedroom on the right is clear in a spotlight.

M
OTHER:
(
softly from the bedroom
)
Joe? Oh, Joe!

J
OE:
Yes, Mother? (
Mother appears in the door
—
a worn, little woman in a dingy wrapper with an expression that is personally troubled and confused.
)

M
OTHER:
Joe, aren’t you going to bed?

J
OE:
Yes. In a minute.

M
OTHER:
I think you’ve written enough tonight, Joe.

J
OE:
I’m nearly finished. I just wanta finish this sentence.

M
OTHER:
Myra’s still out.

J
OE:
She went to the Chase Roof.

M
OTHER:
Couldn’t you go along with her sometimes? Meet the boys that she goes out with?

J
OE:
No, I can’t horn in on her dates. Hell, if I had a job I couldn’t pay tips for that crowd!

M
OTHER:
I’m worried about her.

J
OE:
What for? She says she’s older than I am, Mom, an’ I guess she’s right.

M
OTHER:
No, she’s only a baby. You talk to her, Joe.

J
OE:
Okay.

M
OTHER:
I regret that she took that job now, Joe. She should’ve stayed on at high-school.

J
OE:
She wanted things—money, clothes—you can’t blame her. ‘S Dad out?

M
OTHER:
Yes. . . . She’s given up her swimming.

J
OE:
She got kicked off the Lorelei team.

M
OTHER:
What for, Joe?

J
OE:
She broke training rules all the time. Hell, I can’t stop her.

M
OTHER:
She listens to you.

J
OE:
Not much.

M
OTHER:
Joe—

J
OE:
Yes?

M
OTHER:
Joe, it’s come back on me, Joe.

J
OE:
(
facing her slowly
)
What?

M
OTHER:
The operation wasn’t no use. And all it cost us, Joe, the bills not paid for it yet!.

J
OE:
Mother—what makes you think so?

M
OTHER:
The same pain’s started again.

J
OE:
How long?

M
OTHER:
Oh, some time now.

J
OE:
Why didn’t you—?

M
OTHER:
Joe . . . what’s the use?

J
OE:
Maybe it’s—not what you think! You’ve got to go back. For examination, Mom!

M
OTHER:
No
.
This is the way I look at it, Joe. Like this. I’ve never liked being cramped. I’ve always wanted to have space around me, plenty of space, to live in the country on the top of a hill. I was born in the country, raised there, and I’ve hankered after it lots in the last few years.

J
OE:
Yes. I know. (
Now he speaks to himself.
)
Those Sunday afternoon rides in the country, the late yellow sun through an orchard, the twisted shadows, the crazy old wind-beaten house, vacant, lop-sided, and you pointing at it, leaning out of the car, trying to make Dad stop—

M
OTHER:
Look! That house, it’s for sale! It oughta go cheap! Twenty acres of apple, a hen-house, and look, a nice barn! It’s run-down now but it wouldn’t cost much to repair! Stop, Floyd, go slow along here!

J
OE:
But he went by fast, wouldn’t look, wouldn’t listen! The snake-fence darted away from the road and a wall of stone rose and the sun disappeared for a moment. Your face was dark, your face looked desperate, Mother, as though you were starving for something you’d seen and almost caught in your hands—but not quite. Arid then the car stopped in front of a road-side stand. “We need eggs.” A quarter, a dime—you borrowed a nickel from Dad. And the sun was low then, slanting across winter fields, and the air was cold. . . .

M
OTHER:
Some people think about death as being laid down in a box under earth. But I don’t. To me it’s the opposite, Joe, it’s being let out of a box. And going upwards, not down. I don’t take stock in heaven, I never did. But I do feel like there’s lots of room out there and you don’t have to pay rent on the first of each month to any old tight-fisted Dutchman who kicks about how much water you’re using. There’s freedom, Joe, and freedom’s the big thing in life. It’s funny that some of us don’t ever get it until we’re dead. But that’s how it is and so we’ve got to accept it. The hard thing to me is leaving things not straightened out. I’d like to have some assurance, some definite knowledge of what you were going to do, of how things’ll work out for you. . . . Joe!

J
OE:
Yes?

M
OTHER:
What would you do with three hundred dollars?

J
OE:
I’m not going to think about that.

M
OTHER:
I want you to, Joe. The policy’s in your name. It’s in the right hand drawer of the chiffonier, folded up under the handkerchief box and it’s got . . . (
Her voice fades out and two of the Movers come in carrying a floor-lamp.
)

J
OE:
(
clearing his throat
)
Where’s the shade to that lamp? (
Mother slips quietly out as the sunlight brightens.
)

1ST
M
OVER:
It’s comin’. (
He knocks the lamp slightly against the wall.
)

J
OE:
God damn you! Why don’t you look what you’re doing?

2ND
M
OVER:
What’s eating you?

1ST
M
OVER:
Lissen, buddy—

J
OE:
You don’t care about people’s things! Any old way is all right!

S
ILVA:
(
looking up from the magazine
)
Joe, take it easy. They’re not going to damage this stuff.

J
OE:
They’re not going to damage it—no!

1ST
M
OVER:
Damage it? Shit! (
The two Movers laugh as they go out.
)

S
ILVA:
If they break a thing you collect on it.

3RD
M
OVER:
(
entering with some cardboard boxes
)
What’s in these here boxes?

J
OE:
China. Glass things. So don’t go tossing ‘em around like—

S
ILVA:
Joe, let’s get outa this place. I can’t concentrate on a story with all this commotion. What uh yuh stayin’ here for anyhow, screwball? It’s only—makin’ yuh feel—depressed, ain’t it?

J
OE:
You go on if you want. I’ve got to wait here.

4TH
M
OVER:
(
coming in with a handful of bottles
)
Some empty powder an’ perfume bottles offa that dresser—you want ‘em or not?

J
OE:
Leave ‘em here on the floor. (
The 4th Mover takes up a chair from the room and goes out the door to the stair hall. Joe examines the articles on the floor. He removes the stopper from a perfume bottle and sniffs. The light in the room dims again and the front door is caught in a spotlight. Myra’s voice can be heard in the hall outside.
)

M
YRA:
Bill, I had a swell time.

B
ILL:
Zat all? . . . It’s dark. They’re all in bed. (
Joe rises and straightens attentively.
)

M
YRA:
(
appearing in the doorway
)
Joe’s light’s still on.

B
ILL:
I’ll be quiet, honey. We don’t have to make any noise. I’m a
wee
little mouthie!

M
YRA:
(
kissing him
)
Yes, and you’ve got to go home.

B
ILL:
C’mere closer. Unh!

M
YRA:
Bill!

B
ILL:
Whatsamatter? Aren’t you the little free-style swimming an’ fancy diving champion of St. Louis?

M
YRA:
What if I am?

B
ILL:
Well, I can do a swell breast-stroke, too—outa water.

M
YRA:
Shut up. I want to go to bed.

B
ILL:
So do I.

M
YRA:
Goodnight.

B
ILL:
Lissen!

M
YRA:
What?

B
ILL:
I go out with debutantes.

M
YRA:
What of it?

B
ILL:
Nothing. Except that . . .

M
YRA:
How should I take that remark?

B
ILL:
Okay, I’ll tell you. I’ll take “Goodnight I’ve had a swell time” from the V.P. Queen! But when girls like you try to sell me that stuff—

J
OE:
(
stepping into the spotlighted area
)
Get out!

B
ILL:
Aw
.
It’s big brother. I thought you’d be out on the milk-route by now.

J
OE:
Get out, you stinking—

M
YRA:
Joe!

J
OE:
Before I hang one on you! (
Bill laughs weakly and goes out.
)

M
YRA:
You were right about him. He’s no good. (
Joe looks at her.
)
Joe, what do they mean by—'girls like me’?

J
OE:
(
bending slowly and removing a small object from the floor
)
I guess they mean—this.

M
YRA:
(
without looking
)
What?

J
OE:
Something he—dropped from his pocket.

M
YRA:
(
dully
)
Oh. (
raising her voice
)
Joe, I don’t want you to think I—

J
OE:
Shut up. . . . Mother’s sick.

M
YRA:
(
excitedly
)
Oh, I know, I know, it’s all a rotten dirty mess! The Chase Roof, dancing under the stars! . . . And then on the way home, puking over the side of the car—puking! And then he stops in the park and tries to— Oh, Christ, I want to have a good time! You don’t think I have it sewing hooks an’ eyes on corsets down at Werber & Jacobs? Nights I wanta get out, Joe, I wanta go places, have fun! But I don’t want things like him crawling on me, worse than filthy cockroaches!