| MARG: | It does get lonely sometimes... even if you're as active as I am. (LIL is about to say something.) No, no, I'm not looking for sympathy. I have this (indicates knitting) to keep me busy. It's going to be a... something for my granddaughter - Ralph's little girl. | |
| LIL: | How old is she? | |
| MARG: | She's just a little wee thing. But I don't suppose I'll finish it now, with all the distraction I've had this morning. No, I don't mean you. (Beat.) If I want peace and quiet I go to the park. The trees and walking those winding paths - it keeps you together. I like walking. But it's a bit far to Ralph's place. And the busses, well, they never go where you want to go. Perhaps I should get myself a bicycle. (Indicates LIL's tire.) Imagine, me trying to get on one of those. I wouldn't know where to put my hands. | |
| LIL: | They come with all kinds of handlebars. | |
| MARG: | The old-fashioned kind where you can sit up straight like this? (Mimes.) | |
| LIL: | And they have saddles in many different shapes and sizes - almost one for every derrière. | |
| MARG: | I sure would need it wide. | |
| LIL: | You'd want a touring bike: Soft, wide saddle, wide handlebars and wide tires. Or a mountain bike with those thick knobby balloon tires. | |
| MARG: | Don't remind me! | |
| LIL: | Gives you better balance. | |
| MARG: | (Indicates direction of Bert's exit.) He needs some of that. | |
| LIL: | What's that? | |
| MARG: | (Points at her head.) Balance. | |
| LIL: | Why doesn't your son... | |
| MARG: | Ralph. | |
| LIL: | What I mean is, he's got a car, doesn't he? | |
| MARG: | There! That car outside there... I think. He has a cream colored car just like it. (LIL glances at her watch.) Dear me, here I've been going on and on, and you have to meet someone yourself? | |
| LIL: | No, no. I... Not today. Not anymore. | |
| MARG: | Oh dear. | |
| LIL: | It's okay. It's over. | |
| MARG: | But it still hurts, doesn't it? (Pause.) When did he... I mean... | |
| LIL: | This morning. I've come fresh from the kill. | |
| MARG: | (Jumps up.) I think I saw his car this time. I better make sure he sees me. (She gathers her belongings.) He may not have brought his umbrella. People who drive automobiles never seem to be prepared for inclement weather. | |
| LIL: | So long. You'll have a nice lunch: veal, brussel sprouts, cheese cake - just like old times. | |
| MARG: | (Takes LIL's hand.) You'll be okay? (LIL forces a smile.) I enjoyed so much meeting you. Let's visit again soon. Right here. Or, if the weather is nice... | |
| LIL: | On your bench in the park. | |
| MARG: | Any day, around lunchtime. I always bring something extra. And the birds won't mind sharing it with somebody else for once. | |
| VOICE 1: | (PA system.) Hello, folks. Our noon-hour feature store is Madeleine's Boutique where swim wear is it. And it's on special at half price | |
| While the announcer is speaking, MARG appears to say something. | ||
| LIL: | What did you say? | |
| VOICE 1: | Yes, that's right, 50 percent off those hot bikinis and sexy one-piece bathing suits. So if you want to get a tan where nothing tanned before, then hurry to Madeleine's Boutique near the east entrance. | |
| MARG: | That's what Bert needs - swim trunks. Or better yet a diving suit. (Exits.) | |
| LIL looks after her, then gets up, looks at the boutique's sales table. She picks up the same pair of panties Marg had handled, looks at the size tag and throws it back in disgust. She turns to leave. | ||
| VOICE 2: | (Off.) Anything I can help you with? | |
| LIL: | (Wheels around, tries to locate the voice.) Jimmy? (Beat.) Oh, no thank you. It's all right. I'm just... browsing. (She returns to the bench and begins to pump up the tire.) Damn you, James! (She buries her head in her hands and sobs. Enter BERT, wearing a new pair of pants and carrying a department store shopping bag.) | |
| BERT: | Who's James? (LIL's head comes up; she wipes her tear-stained face.) Guy who broke your bike? | |
| LIL: | Guy who gave me the bike - for Christmas. Look at this pile of junk! | |
| BERT: | So now he's sliding down somebody else's chimney? (Pause.) When? | |
| LIL: | Last night. Last six months. What's the difference?
(Pause.) My own sister! (When BERT puts his arm on her shoulder, she jumps. BERT lets go.) | |
| BERT: | Nice sister. | |
| LIL: | Nice pants. | |
| BERT: | They're still a bit scratchy. | |
| LIL: | (Looks at him, then reaches out as if to touch the scar on his face.) What happened there? | |
| BERT: | This? Ah... Shrapnel. | |
| LIL: | You've been overseas? On peacekeeping duty? | |
| BERT: | Peacekeeping. Yeah, that's me all right. Keeping the peace. | |
| LIL: | Where? | |
| BERT: | Oh... all over. Never sit still. That's how you get hurt, sitting still. | |
| LIL: | So how did it happen - if you didn't... if you kept on the move? | |
| BERT: | I forget. | |
| LIL: | Amnesia? How long has it been? | |
| BERT: | Doctor says it'll take a while, that my brain don't want to remember. Anyway, not much else is missing. And it don't put me aut of action like my ex would have you believe. She thought everything was blown off all together - all the vital parts. Well, it almost was, too. | |
| LIL: | People can be cruel. Even the ones you love. | |
| BERT: | Yeah, you don't need war as an excuse for that. | |
| LIL: | When did it happen? | |
| BERT: | October thirteenth. But it wasn't a Friday. There'd been a light mist that morning. The road wasn't really wet, but it was enough. And us riding without a care. She sure was one beautiful babe. | |
| LIL: | Your wife? | |
| BERT: | Huh? Oh... Hell, no. My bike. Never had no wife. | |
| LIL: | But you said your ex... | |
| BERT: | Ah, girlfriend. But that didn't last long. Was tough on her. She never liked my bike or what it did to me. And then she wasted five months of her life waiting for my vital statistics to get back up to speed. In the end she just gave up; said she had to get on with things no matter how sorry she felt - | |
| LIL: | But you said war. | |
| BERT: | (With a twinkle in his eye he imitates an old man.) Yes, kiddo, the war did this to me... the damn war. | |
| LIL: | On a bike? That must have been Word War One. | |
| BERT: | What can I say? | |
| LIL: | You can tell me the truth for a change. Good grief, Bert, what have you got to proove, telling me a bloody bicycle accident was an act of war? (BERT chuckles.) And it isn't funny at all! | |
| BERT: | (Points at LIL's wheel.) It wasn't one of those. | |
| LIL: | Well, mine can be fixed. I'm working on it. | |
| BERT: | Harley Davidson Sportster. Fifty-five horse apples, one thousand cc, high compression - | |
| LIL: | Oh... (Sarcastically.) Well, I bet "ridin' that momma it wuz jist like makin' luv, eh?" | |
| BERT: | Yeah, matter of fact... | |
| LIL: | Oh, will you cut all this crap! First the great war hero returns, slighly limp and worse for wear. Then it turns out he was just around the corner, riding high on a heap of chrome and leather with the wind whistling through his pants! | |
| BERT: | All right, all right. What you getting all huffy about? | |
| LIL: | You lied to me. | |
| BERT: | Okay, so I was having you on about the shrapnel bit. | |
| LIL: | And that peacekeeping crap! (Beat.) Why do you have to make up stories? | |
| BERT: | War sounds better, don't you think? Much more glamorous than road kill. | |
| LIL: | More stupid, if you ask me. | |
| BERT: | Yeah, but it gets you more pity. Picture this: There's the enemy, and you trying to blow him away, but he gets you first. And suddenly everybody worships you - for being a fool. | |
| LIL: | For being a hero. | |
| BERT: | Only hero I know is yea long and comes stuffed with cold cuts and cheese. (Pause.) I wiped out. Hit a van. The bastard couldn't find his brakes. A bloody milk van. Man, the stuff is supposed to be good for you. (Beat.) In hospital I had this dream: I'm drowning - in milk. Each time I'm trying to come up for air, I don't know which way is up. Everything is white. I can't breathe. And then I wake up, and this old geezer from the next bed he's standing over me, pinching my nose. Says I was snoring and his wife does that to him all the time. I guess she holds his nose shut till he stops snoring or blows up. Maybe that's what he was in hospital for. Busted his bowels, same as me. If I could have I would have rapped him good. (Beat.) I tried to get out of that place so bad. Everything white - the sheets, the walls, the faces in the other beds... Once I threw a glass of milk after a nurse but I missed. Hit the wall instead. I should have used tomato juice, huh? | |
| LIL: | It must have been awful. | |
| BERT: | Yeah. One percent skimmed. | |
| LIL: | Right. And I suppose your morning cereal hasn't tasted the same ever since? (She immediately regrets it.) I'm sorry. | |
| BERT: | I'm sorry, I'm sorry. That's all anybody ever has to say. What are you sorry for? That I wasn't shot in the gut? That Jim-boy skipped out on you? That it was your sister he skipped with - | |
| LIL: | Now that isn't fair! | |
| BERT: | Fair, my foot. I thought you nurses are tough. You should know life aint fair. Maybe you was one of the lucky ones. Private school, boyfriend pick you up in his daddy's Porsche on Sundays. By the time you're twenty you're bored out of your skull. So you've got a choice: you either hit the skids or become Florence Nightingale. | |
| LIL: | Nice going, Socrates. | |
| BERT: | The name is Alber - | |
| LIL: | Why don't you come off your high horse, Alberto with an "o"! | |
| BERT: | I already did. Out of the saddle and on the asphalt - ass first. My buddy wasn't so lucky. He went head first into the milk van. | |
| LIL: | Hold it. What did you say? Your buddy? | |
| BERT: | Forget it. | |
| LIL: | She was right. You're aggravating. You start something and then you don't finish it. | |
| BERT: | I said forget it! | |
| LIL: | Do you know what I think? Your whole "taking care of Margaret" routine sucks. Underneath it all you really feel sorry for yourself, don't you? | |
| BERT: | And you - you've got everybody figured out. | |
| LIL: | I see, the best defense is a quick offence, right? | |
| BERT: | I don't know what the hell you're talking about. | |
| LIL: | The hell you don't. | |
| BERT: | Oh, why don't you just fuck off.
(LIL abruptly gathers her things and turns to leave. BERT Jumps up to head her off.) What'd I say? C'mon, Lil. I didn't mean nothing by it. (She keeps moving.) Really, I didn't. (She's walking.) What do you want me to do? Fall on my knees? | |
| LIL: | I can take a hint. And besides I don't like that word. And I don't like people who use that word. | |
| BERT: | What word? Oh, you mean "fuck -" | |
| LIL: | Don't! Don't you dare! Once is plenty enough. | |
| BERT: | It don't mean nothing. | |
| LIL: | Then why use it? | |
| BERT: | You just do. But it don't mean nothing. | |
| LIL: | It sure did a minute ago. | |
| BERT: | Well, it just... slipped out. | |
| LIL: | Is that all you can say - "I was having you on," and "Forget it," and "It just slipped out"? | |
| BERT: | Lil, I'm sorry. | |
| LIL: | I'm sorry. I'm sorry. That you weren't shot in the head? Well, I certainly am! (In a more conciliatory tone.) You don't feel just a little sorry for yourself? | |
| BERT: | Hell, no. Because of this? (Taps his pant leg.) It could be worse. | |
| LIL: | Yes, you could be the queer little lame balloon man of e. e. cummings. | |
| BERT: | Huh? | |
| LIL: | No, I suppose you wouldn't have heard of him. | |
| BERT: | He the guy that makes them truck engines? | |
| LIL: | I'm talking about the poet, e. e. cummings, all in lower case letters. | |
| BERT: | He was queer? | |
| LIL: | The balloon man in one of his poems is a queer old man, and he is lame. | |
| BERT: | I'm not. | |
| LIL: | That's what I mean. | |
| BERT: | So what about him? | |
| LIL: | It's spring. | |
| BERT: | I know. | |
| LIL: | In the poem by cummings it's spring. And the balloon man comes along and whistles. One can hear him from far off. And you and Eddie and Bill stop playing marbles, and Betty and Isbel stop jumping rope and hopscotch and you all come running. | |
| BERT: | And? | |
| LIL: | And nothing. | |
| BERT: | That's it? | |
| LIL: | That's where the poem ends. | |
| BERT: | You're kidding! | |
| LIL: | But if you use your imagination you can see it in your mind and hear and feel "when the world is mudluscious and puddle-wonderful." | |
| BERT: | Mud puddles. Hm. | |
| LIL: | (She is as the end of her patience.) Oh, you just have to read his poems to appreciate them. | |
| BERT: | (Picks a newspaper from the garbage bin.) Yeah, just like in the classifieds: "Must be seen to be appreciated." Everybody's got something to sell. "Attractive, cozy sofa"; probably something Fifi slept on when she had fleas and kidney trouble. "Matching fridge and stove"; except they're opposites, one is hot the other's cold, so how can they be matching? And this here takes the cake, "Twenty-five horsepower outboard motor in mint condition"; that means it'll conk out a couple of miles offshore just when you're ready to head home. But you're lucky; you've got a paddle.(Stuffs the paper back in the garbage bin.) | |
| LIL: | That could be recycled, you know? | |
| BERT: | (He is about to say something, but thinks better of it. Instead, he retrieves the paper and makes a slighly exaggerated effort at smoothing it, then folding it neatly and placing it on the bench.) Poets are crazy. Everything has to rhyme. | |
| LIL: | Not true. | |
| BERT: | Name one. | |
| LIL: | e. e. cummings. | |
| BERT: | Nuts, not him again. Anyway, in my days poems rhymed. | |
| LIL: | He wrote that one in... let's see... 1923. | |
| BERT: | No kidding. (Pause.) In school they always made us look for something deep. It was like a bloody Easter egg hunt. (Affected accent.) "People..." This one teacher, she never called us "children" or "kids"... "People, in this poem, what is the meaning of light?" Beats me, I thought. The only reason I could see was that it rhymed with "fight." | |
| LIL: | (Laughing.) Or "might," "sight," "night,"... | |
| BERT: | (As if in a drunken slur.) And tight as a kite. | |
| LIL: | Right. | |
| BERT: | Man, she was always making up something weird. | |
| LIL: | Trying to make you think. | |
| BERT: | But what are poems good for? | |
| LIL: | At their best they give you something that makes sense out of this whole mess. | |
| BERT: | Yeah, that'd be nice. Except it's only words. | |
| LIL: | First there are only words. | |
| BERT: | That's what I said. | |
| LIL: | And then, after a while, you'll find a word or a line stuck away somewhere that reminds you of something. | |
| BERT: | Maybe - after a really long while. | |
| LIL: | You can take your time. It's your poem now, as much as anybody else's. | |
| BERT: | Yeah, what's the rush. (Jerks his head in the direction of people passing by.) Look at all those pinheads. Everybody's in a hurry - to go where? (Pause.) She made us recite poems - long ones too. | |
| LIL: | I gather you didn't care for that? | |
| BERT: | None of the guys did. (Stands up straight and stiff. Then, in a dialect.) "I wandered lonely as a cloud / That floats on high o'er vales and hills, / When all at once I saw a crowd, / A host, of golden daffodils" | |
| LIL: | (Claps her hands.) Bravo. Encore! You see, you do remember. | |
| She pulls a book from her knapsack and invites him to sit beside her. She opens the book and they talk in muted tones as the mall music drowns out their voices. | ||
| VOICE 1: | (Over the PA system.) Attention. Paging Mr. Ralph Poole. Mr. Ralph Poole, please come to the east concourse. Your mother is waiting for you by the fountain at the main mall entrance. | |
| BERT groans. | ||
| LIL: | What is the matter? | |
| BERT: | Nothing. (Pause.) Lil, you should have been a teacher. Maybe we would have got something out of those poems. | |
| LIL: | Don't we have a little age problem here? | |
| BERT: | Maybe you could have been Ralph's teacher then. | |
| LIL: | Ralph? | |
| BERT: | Yeah. My buddy Ralph. (Hesitates.) He was eight years younger 'n me. | |
| LIL: | Not her Ralph? | |
| BERT: | Same one. | |
| LIL: | But... | |
| BERT: | He was hanging on like crazy and kept on giggling, "Faster, Bert, faster!" We'd just come around a corner - real smooth. Everything is clear, so I start revvin' up... I can't even remember seeing the guy pulling out of the driveway. It was just there - right in front of us... a big white wall. Like in the hospital room. But that was later. | |
| LIL: | But Ralph... I didn't know he... Mrs. Poole said - | |
| BERT: | Yeah. Was almost thirteen years ago. (Pause.) I used to call her "Mom." I was always over at their place, fixing his bicycle, letting him help me with my machine, staying for supper and things. Ralph and me, we were real pals. | |
| LIL: | I see. | |
| BERT: | She kept on changing her name after she divorced her old man. | |
| LIL: | She what? But I thought she said... | |
| BERT: | Yeah, I know. Couldn't hack it, I guess... I got tired of calling her Mrs. Smith one day and Mrs. Jones the next. So now she's Mrs. M - for "Mom." But I wouldn't tell her that. Maybe she figures the M stands for Margaret. | |
| LIL: | Are you trying to tell me a story here of a little old lady who lives in a world of make-believe? | |
| BERT: | Lil, it aint a story I made up. | |
| LIL: | Wouldn't be the first time. | |
| BERT: | This is different. | |
| LIL: | Said the little boy who cried wolf. | |
| BERT: | Gee, Lil - | |
| LIL: | So, why should I believe you now? | |
| BERT: | 'Cause it's true. | |
| LIL: | I don't believe you. | |
| BERT: | No skin off my nose. | |
| LIL: | You're serious, aren't you? (Pause.) But why? | |
| BERT: | Maybe because some women always want a head start in life so they can show everybody else up. They start when they're five - "Have some tea and cheesecake, dear." And they read poems and go to charity balls. It's just that some can take it and others can't. | |
| LIL: | Bert, you're such a - If you've got some chip on your shoulder, don't let it out on me. (Gets up to leave.) | |
| BERT: | Well, you and your hows and wheres and whys. How do I know? I only know the who. (Lights fade.) | |
| Light on MARG in front of the mall. She addresses passers-by. | ||
| MARG: | Excuse me, did you happen to see a young man? Blond, slim, five-nine. In a tan suit, brown tie. It's the only suit he has. He wears it to church on Sundays. But it's my birthday, you see. He'd be wearing it today. I don't want him to get his nice suit wet. It's already getting a little tight in the shoulders as it is. The boy must be growing, still growing... (Light fades.) | |
| LIL is at the bike stand, busy reattaching the front wheel to her bike. BERT is watching. | ||
| BERT: | Tires are a bit low. Maybe a blast of helium | |
| LIL: | Very funny! (Looks past him toward MARG.) What will she do? | |
| BERT: | (Shrugs.) Wait? | |
| LIL: | How long? | |
| BERT: | How long are you gonna wait? | |
| LIL: | She needs help. | |
| BERT: | She'll help herself. | |
| LIL: | You are cruel, too. (Pause.) Doesn't she have any relatives? (Sarcastically.) Other than you. | |
| BERT: | Relatives, phew. What good are they - considering what happened to you. | |
| LIL: | Bert, you can be such a - | |
| BERT: | Some sister. | |
| LIL: | What do you know? Blood is thicker than | |
| BERT: | "Come, little sister, to our little mister " | |
| LIL: | Stop it! How dare you! I love her! I still love her! | |
| BERT: | Sure you do. | |
| LIL: | (Quietly.) The bitch. | |
| BERT: | And do you still love that bastard James? | |
| LIL: | Don't call him that! | |
| BERT: | Well, do you? | |
| LIL: | You have no right to call him that. | |
| BERT: | You still do, don't ya? And you think he'll come back - on his knees. | |
| LIL: | He might. | |
| BERT: | A vulture making its way back to the carcass? | |
| She tries to slap him but he catches her wrist. She lets out a sob. BERT puts his arm around her shoulder. This time she tolerates his touch and buries her head into his shoulder. Lights fade. Light up on MARG. | ||
| MARG: | There's his car! See? A cream-colored four-door sedan. That's him. (She leans over the curb, waves, then jumps back, drops her bag, gesticulates.) Watch out, you - you idiot! (To passers-by.) Did you see that? Aimed right for me, he did. And he gave me the finger! Look at me now! And it's my birthday. I was going to dinner at Janzen's. Anyone got his license number? Drivers like him should be locked up... to a Denver boot! (Exits grumbling.) | |
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