Tea and Sympathy (14 page)

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

I'm sorry he was killed.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Yes, so am I. I'm sorry he was killed the way he was killed . . . trying
to prove how brave he was. In trying to prove he was a man, he died a boy.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Still he must have died happy.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Because he proved his courage?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

That . . . and because he was married to you.

 

 

(Embarrassed, he walks to his coat which she has been holding in her lap)

 

 

I've got to go.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Tom, please.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

I've got to.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

It must be a very important engagement.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

It is.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

If you go now, I'll think I bored you, talking all about myself.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

You haven't.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

I probably shouldn't have gone on like that. It's just that I felt like
it . . . a rainy spring night . . . a fire. I guess I'm in a reminiscent
mood. Do you ever get in reminiscing moods on nights like this?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

About what?

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Oh, come now . . . there must be something pleasant to remember,
or someone.

 

 

(TOM stands by the door beginning to think back, his raincoat in his hand,
but still dragging on the floor)

 

 

Isn't there? . . . Of course there is. Who was it, or don't you want
to tell?

 

 

 

 

TOM
(After a long silence)

 

 

May I have a cigarette?

 

 

 

 

LAURA
(Relieved that she has won another moments delay)

 

 

Yes. Of course.

 

 

(Hands him a box, then lights his cigarette.)

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

My seventh-grade teacher.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

What?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

That's who I remember.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Oh.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Miss Middleton . . .

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

How sweet.

 

 

 

 

TOM
(Drops the raincoat again, and moves into the room)

 

 

It wasn't sweet. It was terrible.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

At that time, of course . . . Tell me about her.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

She was just out of college . . . tall, blonde, honey-colored hair
. . . and she wore a polo coat, and drove a convertible.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Sounds very fetching.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Ever since then I've been a sucker for girls in polo coats.

 

 

 

 

 

 

LAURA
(Smiling)

 

 

I have one somewhere.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Yes, I know.

 

 

(He looks at her.)

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

What happened?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

What could happen? As usual I made a fool of myself. I guess everyone
knew I was in love with her. People I like, I can't help showing it.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

That's a good trait.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

When she used to go on errands and she needed one of the boys to go along
and help carry something, there I was.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

She liked you too, then.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

This is a stupid thing to talk about.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

I can see why she liked you.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

I thought she . . . I thought she loved me. I was twelve years old.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Maybe she did.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Anyway, when I was in eighth grade, she got married. And you know what
they made me do? They gave a luncheon at school in her honor, and I had
to be the toastmaster and wish her happiness and everything . . . I had
to write a poem . . .

 

 

(He quotes)

 

 

"Now that you are going to be married,
And away from us be carried,
Before you promise to love, honor and obey,
There are a few things I want to say."

 

 

(He shakes his head as they both laugh)

 

 

From there on it turned out to be more of a love poem than anything else.

 

 

 

 

LAURA
(As she stops laughing)

 

 

Puppy love can be heartbreaking.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

(The smile dying quickly as he looks at her. Then after what seems
like forever)

 

 

I'm always falling in love with the wrong people.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Who isn't?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

You too?

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

It wouldn't be any fun if we didn't. Of course, nothing ever comes of it,
but there are bittersweet memories, and they can be pleasant.

 

 

(Kidding him as friend to friend, trying to get him to smile again)

 

 

Who else have you been desperately in love with?

 

 

 

 

TOM
(He doesn't answer. Then he looks at his watch)

 

 

It's almost nine . . . I'm late.

 

 

(Starts to go.)

 

 

 

 

LAURA
(Rising)

 

 

I can't persuade you to stay?

 

 

(TOM shakes his head, "no")

 

 

We were getting on so well.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Thanks.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

In another moment I would have told you all the deep, dark secrets of
my life.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

I'm sorry.

 

 

(He picks up his coat from the floor.)

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

(Desperately trying to think of something to keep him from going)

 

 

Won't you stay even for a dance?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

I don't dance.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

I was going to teach you.

 

 

(She goes over to the phonograph and snaps on the button.)

 

 

 

 

TOM
(Opens the door)

 

 

Some other time . . .

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Please, for me.

 

 

(She comes back.)

 

 

 

 

TOM
(After a moment he closes the door)

 

 

Tell me something.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Yes?

 

 

(The record starts to play, something soft and melodic. It plays through
to the end of the act.)

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Why are you so nice to me?

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Why . . . I . . .

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

You're not this way to the rest of the fellows.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

No, I know I'm not. Do you mind my being nice to you?

 

 

 

 

TOM
(Shakes his head, "no")

 

 

I just wondered why.

 

 

 

 

LAURA
(In a perfectly open way)

 

 

I guess, Tom . . . I guess it's because I like you.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

No one else seems to. Why do you?

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

I don't know . . . I . . .

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Is it
because
no one else likes me? Is it just pity?

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

No, Tom, no, of course not . . . It's, well . . . it's because you've
been very nice to me . . . very considerate. It wasn't easy for me, you
know, coming into a school, my first year. You seemed to sense that.
I don't know, we just seem to have hit it off.

 

 

(She smiles at him.)

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Mr. Reynolds knows you like me.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

I suppose so. I haven't kept it a secret.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Is that why he hates me so?

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

I don't think he hates you.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Yes, he hates me. Why lie? I think everyone here hates me but you.
But they won't.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Of course they won't.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

He hates me because he made a flop with me. I know all about it. My father
put me in this house when I first came here, and when he left me he said
to your husband, "Make a man out of him." He's failed, and he's mad,
and then you came along, and were nice to me . . . out of pity.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

No, Tom, not pity. I'm too selfish a woman to like you just out of pity.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

(He has worked himself up into a state of confusion, and anger, and
desperation)

 

 

There's so much I . . . there's so munch I don't understand.

 

 

 

 

LAURA
(reaches out and touches his arm)

 

 

Tom, don't go out tonight.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

I've got to. That's one thing that's clear. I've got to!

 

 

 

 

LAURA
(Holds up her arms for dancing)

 

 

Won't you let me teach you how to dance?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

(Suddenly and impulsively he throws his arms around her, and kisses her
passionately, awkwardly, and then in embarrassment he buries his head
in her shoulder)

 

 

Oh, God . . . God.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Tom . . . Tom . . .

 

 

(TOM raises his face and looks at her, and would kiss her again)

 

 

No, Tom . . . No, I . . .

 

 

(At the first "No," TOM breaks from her and runs out the door halfway
up the stairs. Calling)

 

 

Tom! . . . Tom!

 

 

(TOM stops at the sound of her voice and turns around and looks down
the stairs. LAURA moves to the open door)

 

 

Tom, I . . .

 

 

(The front door opens and two of the mountain-climbing boys, PHIL and
PAUL come in, with their packs.)

 

 

 

 

PHIL
(Seeing TOM poised on the stairs)

 

 

What the hell are you doing?

 

 

(TOM just looks at him)

 

 

What's the matter with you?

 

 

(He goes on and up the stairs.)

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

What are you doing back?

 

 

 

 

PAUL