Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (4 page)

MARGARET:

“Nawmal rid-blooded children attracted t'weapons” ought
t'be taught to keep their hands off things that don't belong to
them.

MAE:

Maggie, honey, if you had children of your own you'd know how funny that is.
Will you please lock this up and put the key out of reach?

MARGARET:

Sister Woman, nobody is plotting the destruction of your kiddies. —Brick and I
still have our special archers’ license. We're goin’
deer-huntin’ on Moon Lake as soon as the season starts. I love to run
with dogs through chilly woods, run, run, leap over obstructions—

[
She goes into the closet carrying the
bow.
]

MAE:

How's the injured ankle, Brick?

BRICK:

Doesn't hurt. Just itches.

MAE:

Oh, my! Brick—Brick, you should've been downstairs after
supper! Kiddies put on a show. Polly played the piano, Buster an’
Sonny drums, an’ then they turned out the lights an’ Dixie an’
Trixie puhfawmed a toe dance in fairy costume with
spahkluhs!
Big Daddy just beamed! He just
beamed!

MARGARET
[
from
the closet with a sharp laugh
]:

Oh, I bet. It breaks my heart that we missed it!

[
She reenters.
]

But Mae? Why did y'give dawgs’ names to all your
kiddies?

MAE:

Dogs’
names?

[
Margaret has made this observation as she
goes to raise the bamboo blinds, since the sunset glare has diminished. In
crossing she winks at Brick.
]

MARGARET
[
sweetly
]:

Dixie, Trixie, Buster, Sonny, Polly!—Sounds like four dogs and a parrot
. . . animal act in a circus!

MAE:

Maggie?

[
Margaret turns with a
smile.
]

Why are you so catty?

MARGARET:

Cause I'm a cat! But why can't
you
take a joke, Sister Woman?

MAE:

Nothin’ pleases me more than a joke that's funny. You know the real
names of our kiddies. Buster's real name is Robert. Sonny's real name
is Saunders. Trixie's real name is Marlene and Dixie's—

[
Someone downstairs calls for her.
“Hey, Mae!"
—
She rushes to door,
saying:
]

Intermission is over!

MARGARET
[
as Mae
closes door
]:

I wonder what Dixie's real name is?

BRICK:

Maggie, being catty doesn't help things any . . .

MARGARET:

I know!
WHY!
—Am I so
catty?—Cause I'm consumed with envy an’ eaten up with
longing?—Brick, I've laid out your beautiful Shantung silk suit
from Rome and one of your monogrammed silk shirts. I'll put your cuff links
in it, those lovely star sapphires I get you to wear so rarely. . . .

BRICK:

I can't get trousers on over this plaster cast.

MARGARET:

Yes, you can, I'll help you.

BRICK:

I'm not going to get dressed, Maggie.

MARGARET:

Will you just put on a pair of white silk pajamas?

BRICK:

Yes, I'll do that, Maggie.

MARGARET:

Thank
you, thank you so
much!

BRICK:

Don't mention it.

MARGARET:

Oh, Brick!
How long does it have t’ go
on? This punishment? Haven't I done time enough, haven't
I served my term, can't I apply for a—pardon?

BRICK:

Maggie, you're spoiling my liquor. Lately your voice always sounds like
you'd been running upstairs to warn somebody that the house was on
fire!

MARGARET:

Well, no wonder, no wonder. Y'know what I feel like, Brick?

[
Children's and grownups’
voices are blended, below, in a loud but uncertain rendition of “My Wild
Irish Rose.”
]

I feel all the time like a cat on a hot tin
roof!

BRICK:

Then jump off the roof, jump off it, cats can jump off roofs and land on their four
feet uninjured!

MARGARET:

Oh, yes!

BRICK:

Do it!—fo’ God's sake, do it . . .

MARGARET:

Do what?

BRICK:

Take a lover!

MARGARET:

I can't see a man but you! Even with my eyes closed, I just see
you! Why don't you get ugly, Brick, why don't you please get
fat or ugly or something so I could stand it?

[
She rushes to ball door, opens it,
listens.
]

The concert is still going on! Bravo, no-necks,
bravo!

[
She slams and locks door
fiercely.
]

BRICK:

What did you lock the door for?

MARGARET:

To give us a little privacy for a while.

BRICK:

You know better, Maggie.

MARGARET:

No, I don't know better. . . .

[
She rushes to gallery doors, draws the
rose-silk drapes across them.
]

BRICK:

Don't make a fool of yourself.

MARGARET:

I don't mind makin’ a fool of myself over you!

BRICK:

I mind, Maggie. I feel embarrassed for you.

MARGARET:

Feel embarrassed! But don't continue my torture. I can't live on
and on under these circumstances.

BRICK:

You agreed to—

MARGARET:

I know but—

BRICK:

—Accept that condition!

MARGARET:

I
CAN'T! CAN'T! CAN'T!

[
She seizes his shoulder.
]

BRICK:

Let go!

[
He breaks away from her and seizes the
small boudoir chair and raises it like a lion-tamer facing a big circus
cat.

[
Count five. She stares at him with her fist
pressed to her mouth, then bursts into shrill, almost hysterical laughter. He
remains grave for a moment, then grins and puts the chair down.

[
Big Mama calls through closed
door.
]

BIG MAMA:

Son? Son? Son?

BRICK:

What is it, Big Mama?

BIG MAMA
[
outside
]:

Oh, son! We got the most wonderful news about Big Daddy. I just had t’
run up an” tell you right this—

[
She rattles the knob.
]

—What's this door doin’, locked, faw? You
all think there's robbers in the house?

MARGARET:

Big Mama, Brick is dressin’, he's not dressed yet.

BIG MAMA:

That's all right, it won't be the first time I've seen Brick not
dressed. Come on, open this door!

[
Margaret, with a grimace, goes to unlock
and open the hall door, as Brick hobbles rapidly to the bathroom and kicks the
door shut. Big Mama has disappeared from the hall.
]

MARGARET:

Big Mama?

[
Big Mama appears through the opposite
gallery doors behind Margaret, huffing and puffing like an old bulldog. She is a
short, stout woman; her sixty years and 170 pounds have left her somewhat
breathless most of the time; she's always tensed like a boxer, or rather,
a Japanese wrestler. Her “family” was maybe a little superior to
Big Daddy's, but not much. She wears a black or silver lace dress and at
least half a million in flashy gems. She is very sincere.
]

BIG MAMA
[
loudly,
startling Margaret
]:

Here—I come through Gooper's and Mae's gall'ry door.
Where's Brick?
Brick
—Hurry on out
of there, son, I just have a second and want to give you the news about Big
Daddy.—I hate locked doors in a house. . . .

MARGARET
[
with
affected lightness
]:

I've noticed you do, Big Mama, but people have got to have
some
moments of privacy, don't they?

BIG MAMA:

No, ma'am, not in
my
house, [
without pause
] Whacha took off you’ dress
faw? I thought that little lace dress was so sweet on yuh, honey.

MARGARET:

I thought it looked sweet on me, too, but one of m’ cute little
table-partners used it for a napkin so—!

BIG MAMA
[
picking
up stockings on floor
]:

What?

MARGARET:

You know, Big Mama, Mae and Gooper's so touchy about those
children—thanks, Big Mama . . .

[
Big Mama has thrust the picked-up
stockings in Margaret's hand with a grunt.
]

—that you just don't dare to suggest there's any
room for improvement in their—

BIG MAMA:

Brick, hurry out!—Shoot, Maggie, you just don't like
children.

MARGARET:

I do SO like children! Adore them!—well brought up!

BIG MAMA
[
gentle—loving
]:

Well, why don't you have some and bring them up well, then, instead of all the
time pickin’ on Gooper's an’ Mae's?

GOOPER
[
shouting
up the stairs
]:

Hey, hey, Big Mama, Betsy an’ Hugh got to go, waitin’ t’ tell
yuh g'by!

BIG MAMA:

Tell ‘em to hold their hawses, I'll be right down in a
jiffy!

[
She turns to the bathroom door and calls
out
.]

Son? Can you hear me in there?

[
There is a muffled
answer.
]

We just got the full report from the laboratory at the Ochsner Clinic, completely
negative, son, ev'rything negative, right on down the line!
Nothin’ a-tall's wrong with him but some little functional
thing called a spastic colon. Can you hear me, son?

MARGARET:

He can hear you, Big Mama.

BIG MAMA:

Then why don't he say something? God Almighty, a piece of news like
that should make him shout. It made
me
shout, I can tell
you. I shouted and sobbed and fell right down on my knees!
—Look!

[
She pulls up her skirt.
]

See the bruises where I hit my kneecaps? Took both doctors to
haul me back on my feet!

[
She laughs—she always laughs like
hell at herself.
]

Big Daddy was furious with me! But ain't that wonderful
news?

[
Facing bathroom again, she
continues:
]

After all the anxiety we been through to git a report like that on Big
Daddy's birthday? Big Daddy tried to hide how much of a load that news
took off his mind, but didn't fool
me.
He was
mighty close to crying about it
himself!

[
Goodbyes are shouted downstairs, and she
rushes to door.
]

Hold those people down there, don't let them
go!—
Now
,
git dressed,
we're all comin’ up to this room fo’ Big Daddy's
birthday party because of your ankle.—How's his ankle,
Maggie?

MARGARET:

Well, he broke it, Big Mama.

BIG MAMA:

I know he broke it.

[
A phone is ringing in hall. A Negro voice
answers: “Mistuh Polly's
res'dence.”
]

I mean does it hurt him much still.

MARGARET:

I'm afraid I can't give you that information, Big Mama.

You'll have to ask Brick if it hurts much still or not.

SOOKEY
[
in the
hall
]:

It's Memphis, Mizz Polly, it's Miss Sally in Memphis.

BIG MAMA:

Awright, Sookey.

[
Big Mama rushes into the hall and is heard
shouting on the phone:
]

Hello, Miss Sally. How are you, Miss Sally?—Yes, well, I
was just gonna call you about it.
Shoot!—

[
She raises her voice to a
bellow.
]

Miss Sally? Don't ever call me from
the Gayoso Lobby, too much talk goes on in that hotel lobby, no wonder you
can't hear me!
Now listen, Miss Sally. They's
nothin’ serious wrong with Big Daddy. We got the report just now,
they's nothin’ wrong but a thing called a—spastic!
SPASTIC!—colon . . .

[
She appears at the hall door and calls to
Margaret.
]

—Maggie, come out here and talk to that fool on the phone.

I'm shouted breathless!

MARGARET
[
goes
out and is heard sweetly at phone
]
:

Miss Sally? This is Brick's wife, Maggie. So nice to hear your voice.
Can you hear
mine?
Well,
good!—Big
Mama just wanted you to know that they've
got the report from the Ochsner Clinic and what Big Daddy has is a spastic colon.
Yes. Spastic colon, Miss Sally. That's right, spastic colon.
G'bye, Miss Sally, hope I'll see you real
soon!

[
Hangs up a little before Miss Sally was
probably ready to terminate the talk. She returns through the hall
door.
]

She heard me perfectly. I've discovered with deaf people the
thing to do is not shout at them but just enunciate clearly. My rich old Aunt
Cornelia was deaf as the dead but I could make her hear me just by sayin’
each word slowly, distinctly, close to her ear. I read her the
Commercial Appeal
ev'ry night, read her the classified ads in it,
even, she never missed a word of it. But was she a mean ole thing! Know what
I got when she died? Her unexpired subscriptions to five magazines and the
Book-of-the-Month Club and a LIBRARY full of ev'ry dull
book ever written! All else went to her hellcat of a sister . . . meaner than
she was, even!