Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (2 page)

ACT ONE

At the rise of the curtain someone is taking a shower in the
bathroom, the door of which is half open. A pretty young woman, with anxious
lines in her face, enters the bedroom and crosses to the bathroom
door.

MARGARET
[
shouting above roar of water
]:

One of those no-neck monsters hit me with a hot buttered biscuit so I have
t‘ change!

[
Margaret's voice is both rapid and
drawling. In her long speeches she has the vocal tricks of a priest delivering a
liturgical chant, the lines are almost sung, always continuing a little beyond
her breath so she has to gasp for another. Sometimes she intersperses the lines
with a little wordless singing, such as
“Dada-daaaa!"

[
Water turns off and Brick calls out to her,
but is still unseen. A tone of politely feigned interest, masking indifference,
or worse, is characteristic of his speech with Margaret.
]

BRICK:

Wha'd you say, Maggie? Water was on s’ loud I couldn't
hearya. . . .

MARGARET
:

Well, I!—just remarked that!—one of th’
no-neck monsters messed up m’ lovely lace dress so I got
t'—cha-a-ange. . . .

[
She opens and kicks shut drawers of the
dresser.
]

BRICK:

Why d'ya call Gooper's kiddies no-neck monsters?

MARGARET:

Because they've got no necks! Isn't that a good enough
reason?

BRICK:

Don't they have any necks?

MARGARET:

None visible. Their fat little heads are set on their fat little bodies without a bit
of connection.

BRICK:

That's too bad.

MARGARET:

Yes, it's too bad because you can't wring their necks if they've
got no necks to wring! Isn't that right, honey?

[
She steps out of her dress, stands in a
slip of ivory satin and lace.
]

Yep, they're no-neck monsters, all no-neck people
are monsters . . .

[
Children shriek
downstairs.
]

Hear them? Hear them screaming? I don't know where
their voice boxes are located since they don't have necks. I tell you I got
so nervous at that table tonight I thought I would throw back my head and utter a
scream you could hear across the Arkansas border an’ parts of Louisiana
an’ Tennessee. I said to your charming sister-in-law, Mae,
honey, couldn't you feed those precious little things at a separate table
with an oilcloth cover? They make such a mess an’ the lace cloth looks
so
pretty! She made enormous eyes at me and
said, “Ohhh, noooooo! On Big Daddy's birthday? Why, he
would never forgive me!” Well, I want you to know, Big Daddy
hadn't been at the table two minutes with those five no-neck monsters
slobbering and drooling over their food before he threw down his fork an’
shouted, “Fo’ God's sake, Gooper, why
don't you put them pigs at a trough in th’
kitchen?"—Well, I swear, I simply could have
di-ieed!

Think of it, Brick, they've got five of them and number six is
coming. They've brought the whole bunch down here like animals to display at
a county fair. Why, they have those children doin’ tricks all the
time! “Junior, show Big Daddy how you do this, show Big Daddy how you
do that, say your little piece fo’ Big Daddy, Sister. Show your dimples,
Sugar. Brother, show Big Daddy how you stand on your head!"—It goes on
all the time, along with constant little remarks and innuendos about the fact that
you and I have not produced any children, are totally childless and therefore
totally useless! —Of course it's comical but it's also
disgusting since it's so obvious what they're up to!

BRICK
[
without
interest
]:

What are they up to, Maggie?

MARGARET:

Why, you know what they're up to!

BRICK
[
appearing
]:

No, I don't know what they're up to.

[
He stands there in the bathroom doorway
drying his hair with a towel and hanging onto the towel rack because one ankle
is broken, plastered and bound. He is still slim and firm as a boy. His liquor
hasn't started tearing him down outside. He has the additional charm of
that cool air of detachment that people have who have given up the struggle. But
now and then, when disturbed, something flashes behind it, like lightning in a
fair sky, which shows that at some deeper level he is far from peaceful. Perhaps
in a stronger light he would show some signs of deliquescence,
but the fading, still warm, light from the
gallery treats him gently.
]

MARGARET:

I'll tell you what they're up to, boy of
mine!—They're up to cutting you out of your father's
estate, and—

[
She freezes momentarily before her next
remark. Her voice drops as if it were somehow a personally embarrassing
admission.
]

—Now we know that Big Daddy's dyin’ of—
cancer. . . .

[
There are voices on the lawn below:
long-drawn calls across distance. Margaret raises her lovely bare arms
and powders her armpits with a light sigh.

[
She adjusts the angle of a magnifying
mirror to straighten an eyelash, then rises fretfully saying:
]

There's so much light in the room it—

BRICK
[
softly but
sharply
]:

Do we?

MARGARET:

Do we what?

BRICK:

Know Big Daddy's dyin’ of cancer?

MARGARET:

Got the report today.

BRICK:

Oh . . .

MARGARET
[
letting
down bamboo blinds which cast long, gold-fretted shadows over the
room
]:

Yep, got th’ report just now . . . it didn't surprise me, Baby.

. . .

[
Her voice has range, and music; sometimes
it drops low as a boy's and you have a sudden image of her playing
boy's games as a child.
]

I recognized the symptoms soon's we got here last spring and
I'm willin’ to bet you that Brother Man and his wife were pretty sure
of it, too. That more than likely explains why their usual summer migration to the
coolness of the Great Smokies was passed up this summer in favor
of—hustlin’ down here ev'ry whipstitch with their whole
screamin’ tribe! And why so many allusions have been made to Rainbow
Hill lately. You know what Rainbow Hill is? Place that's famous for
treatin’ alcoholics an dope fiends in the movies!

BRICK:

I'm not in the movies.

MARGARET:

No, and you don't take dope. Otherwise you're a perfect candidate for
Rainbow Hill, Baby, and that's where they aim to ship you—over my dead
body! Yep, over my dead body they'll ship you there, but nothing would
please them better. Then Brother Man could get a-hold of the purse strings
and dole out remittances to us, maybe get power of attorney and sign checks for us
and cut off our credit wherever, whenever he wanted!
Son-of-a-bitch!—How'd you like that,
Baby?—Well, you've been doin’ just about
ev'rything in your power to bring it about, you've just been
doin’ ev'rything you can think of to aid and abet them in this scheme
of theirs! Quit-tin’ work, devoting yourself to the occupation
of drinkin'!—Breakin’ your ankle last night on the high
school athletic field: doin’ what? Jumpin’ hurdles? At
two or three in the
morning? Just fantastic! Got in
the paper.
Clarksdale Register
carried a nice little
item about it, human interest story about a well-known former athlete
stagin’ a one-man track meet on the Glorious Hill High School athletic
field last night, but was slightly out of condition and didn't clear the
first hurdle! Brother Man Gooper claims he exercised his influence t’
keep it from goin’ out over AP or UP or every goddam “P.”

But, Brick? You still have one big advantage!

[
During the above swift flood of words,
Brick has reclined with contrapuntal leisure on the snowy surface of the bed and
has rolled over carefully on his side or belly.
]

BRICK
[
wryly
]:

Did you
say
something, Maggie?

MARGARET:

Big Daddy dotes on you, honey. And he can't stand Brother Man and Brother
Man's wife, that monster of fertility, Mae; she's downright odious to
him! Know how I know? By little expressions that flicker over his face
when that woman is holding fo'th on one of her choice topics such
as—how she refused twilight sleep!—when the twins were
delivered! Because she feels motherhood's an experience that a woman
ought to experience fully!—in order to fully appreciate the wonder and
beauty of it! HAH!

[
This loud “HAH!” is
accompanied by a violent action such as slamming a drawer
shut.
]

—and how she made Brother Man come in an’ stand beside her
in the delivery room so he would not miss out on the “wonder and
beauty” of it either!—producin’ those no-neck
monsters. . . .

[
A speech of this kind would be antipathetic
from almost anybody but Margaret; she makes it oddly funny, because
her eyes constantly twinkle and her voice
shakes with laughter which is basically indulgent.
]

—Big Daddy shares my attitude toward those two! As for me,
well—I give him a laugh now and then and he tolerates me. In
fact!—I sometimes suspect that Big Daddy harbors a little unconscious
“lech” fo’ me. . . .

BRICK:

What makes you think that Big Daddy has a lech for you, Maggie?

MARGARET:

Way he always drops his eyes down my body when I'm talkin’ to him,
drops his eyes to my boobs an’ licks his old chops! Ha ha!

BRICK:

That kind of talk is disgusting.

MARGARET:

Did anyone ever tell you that you're an ass-aching Puritan,
Brick?

I think it's mighty fine that that ole fellow, on the doorstep of
death, still takes in my shape with what I think is deserved
appreciation!

And you wanta know something else? Big Daddy didn't know
how many little Maes and Goopers had been produced! “How many kids
have you got?” he asked at the table, just like Brother Man and his
wife were new acquaintances to him! Big Mama said he was jokin’, but
that ole boy wasn't jokin’, Lord, no!

And when they infawmed him that they had five already and were turning
out number six!—the news seemed to come as a sort of unpleasant
surprise . . .

[
Children yell below.
]

Scream, monsters!

[
Turns to Brick with a sudden, gay, charming
smile which fades as she notices that he is not looking at her but into fading
gold space with a troubled expression.

[
It is constant rejection that makes her
humor “bitchy.”
]

Yes, you should of been at that supper-table, Baby.

[
Whenever she calls him “baby”
the word is a soft caress.
]

Y'know, Big Daddy, bless his ole sweet soul, he's the
dearest ole thing in the world, but he does hunch over his food as if he preferred
not to notice anything else. Well, Mae an’ Gooper were side by side at the
table, direckly across from Big Daddy, watchin’ his face like hawks while
they jawed an’ jabbered about the cuteness an’ brillance of th’
no-neck monsters!

[
She giggles with a hand fluttering at her
throat and her breast and her long throat arched.
]

[
She comes downstage and recreates the scene
with voice and gestures.
]

And the no-neck monsters were ranged around the table, some in
high chairs and some on th’
Books of Knowledge,
all in fancy little paper caps in honor of Big Daddy's birthday, and all
through dinner, well, I want you to know that Brother Man an’ his partner
never once, for one moment, stopped exchanging pokes an’ pinches an’
kicks an’ signs an’ signals!—Why, they were like a
couple of cardsharps fleecing a sucker.—Even Big Mama, bless her ole sweet
soul, she isn't th’ quickest an’ brightest thing in the world,
she finally noticed, at last, an’ said to Gooper, “Gooper, what are
you an’
Mae makin’ all these signs at each other
about?"—I swear t’ goodness, I nearly choked on my
chicken!

[
Margaret, back at the dressing table, still
doesn't see Brick. He is watching her with a look that is not quite
definable
—
Amused? shocked?
contemptuous?
—
part of those and part
of something else.
]

Y'know—your brother Gooper still cherishes the illusion he
took a giant step up on the social ladder when he married Miss Mae Flynn of the
Memphis Flynns.

[
Margaret moves about the room as she talks,
stops before the mirror, moves on.
]

But I have a piece of Spanish news for Gooper. The Flynns never had a
thing in this world but money and they lost that, they were nothing at all but
fairly successful climbers. Of course, Mae Flynn came out in Memphis eight years
before I made my debut in Nashville, but I had friends at Ward-Belmont who
came from Memphis and they used to come to see me and I used to go to see them for
Christmas and spring vacations, and so I know who rates an’ who
doesn't rate in Memphis society. Why, y'know ole Papa Flynn, he barely
escaped doing time in the Federal pen for shady manipulations on th’ stock
market when his chain stores crashed, and as for Mae having been a cotton carnival
queen, as they remind us so often, lest we forget, well, that's one honor
that I don't envy her for!—Sit on a brass throne on a tacky
float an’ ride down Main Street, smilin’, bowin’, and
blowin’ kisses to all the trash on the street—