The Magic Tower and Other One-Act Plays (24 page)

TYE
[
whispering to her
]: Downstage, in the light. [
She shakes her head slightly
.]

JANE
: Sorry. I don’t remember the name of it,
some—blood
thing—progressive
, rather fast at my age, and no cure.
—I
think I had a remission when I met you. [
This is to Tye
.] A definite remission. My God, what a pair, you, me.
—Here
.
—Like
the world stopped and turned backward or like it entered another universe:
—
months!
[
She moves convulsively, he grips her shoulders
.]
—Then
. . . it . . . I . . .

TYE
: Us?

JANE
: That unnatural tiredness started in again. I went to Ochsners and it turned out that the blood count was the worse, it was close
to—collapse
. . . [
Pause
.]
—Those
are the clinical details.
—Are
you satisfied with them? [
She stares at him, he averts his face. She moves around him to look at his face. He averts it. She claps it between her hands. Compels him to look at her with his tears
.]
—
Honestly?
[
He looks down. A scratching sound is heard from the shutter doors
.]
—That’s
Beret, let her in.
—Isn’t
nice how cats go away and come back
and—you
don’t have a worry about them. So unlike human beings. [
He opens the doors. An invisible cat enters, mewing
.] Give
her—supper
, give her a can of Puss ’n
Boots—mackerel
flavored’s her choice . . . [
He opens a can of cat food and sets it on the floor; strokes the invisible cat a moment, then crosses to his clothes, collecting them from the floor
.]

TYE
[
gently
]: Jane, it’s after dark, I got to get dressed, now, Babe.

JANE
: I know, I know.

TYE
: Only four grades of school and
no—respectable
background.

JANE
: I know.

TYE
: No training
for—nothing
but—

JANE
: He does dress
now—quickly
, guiltily, without a glance at me, as if I’d caught him at some shameful thing.

TYE
[
wrestling himself rapidly into his clothes
]:
I’m—trying
to think. She’s thrown an awful lot at this country mighty quick . . .

JANE
: I should have told you nothing, just slipped away. These Brazilians are sentimental, you know. I could have told him at once that I was dying and he would have put me in a suite at the best hospital to do it.
—Among
fresh flowers daily. You’d have visiting privileges. I’d introduce you to him as my kid brother from Friars Point,
Miss!—he’s
a gullible bastard. [
A little hysterical laugh
.]
—He’d
comfort you with a 22-karat, eighteen jewel, Swiss movement wristwatch.

TYE
:
Babe—cut
some slack, will you, huh? We all got to cut some slack. Listen. You know you don’t have to sweat it.

JANE
:
—So
?

TYE
: Not with me.

JANE
: Oh.
—Can
you give me another remission, one that lasts? And if it doesn’t last long, can you put me in
the—astronomical
hospital suite reserved for VIP’s?

TYE
:
—‘Sthat
what you want? the Astronomical Hospital suite or me here and the skylight?

JANE
: Or you there with the strippers . . .

TYE
: Babe, cut some slack. And don’t sweat it. It’s late, after dark, I’m dressed.

JANE
: Zip your fly up unless you’re now in the show.

TYE
:
—Love
. . .

JANE
: Lovely old word, love, it’s travelled a long way, Tye.

TYE
: Still has a long way to go.
—Well
,
I—hate
to leave you alone.

JANE
: I’m not alone. The cat’s here. She’s
a—very
comforting presence in a room with a skylight.
—This
city is under sea level. At night those fleecy gray white clouds come so close over the roofs of the
Quarter that if you’re slightly smashed and have a gallery you feel like you could touch them and little bits of them would come off your fingers like tufts
of—cotton
candy . . .

TYE
: Yeah, yeh. I’ll tell you. I’ll get Kewpie to take over for me at midnight and I’ll come back with pizzas and a bottle of vino. We’ll have
a—quiet
celebration
with—candles
? Huh?
—Now
rest.

JANE
: But TYE!

TYE
: What, Babe?

JANE
: How presumptuous of me,
how—conceited
of me to think that I, Jane, out of everybody living isn’t scared
of—can’t
even speak the word!

PLAYWRIGHT
: Downstage.

JANE
:
—Death
.

PLAYWRIGHT
: Hold it, please. [
Jane and Tye exchange cryptic glances
.] I’m afraid we’ve lost our director. [
Hilary appears from the wings
.]

HILARY
[
in his costume-drama voice
]: Mr. Leigh-Bowes has to catch the one-ten to East Hampton.

PLAYWRIGHT
: Yes, that’s one way to put it.

HILARY
[
rushing downstage
]: I think you’re the
most—

JANE
[
crying out
]: Please!

HILARY
: I have got to say it. I’m going to say it. This old derelict pretends he can’t see well because he’s blind drunk and he has the insolence
to—

JANE
: I’ve just played a very emotional scene
and—
[
She weeps on the actor’s shoulder
.]

PLAYWRIGHT
: I know. Take a minute. Now, Hilary, you can say it without shouting it.

HILARY
[
still shouting
]: Mr. Leigh-Bowes tells me you consider me incompetent as a stage-manager. I happen to have made a rather distinguished career as an actor. I have worked with Mr. Leigh-Bowes in six productions and he does not want me to quit this one but I shall have to turn in my resignation if you go on attempting to undermine my reputation by your,
your—stupid
,
sodden—slanders
about my . . .

JANE
: Make them stop it.

PLAYWRIGHT
: Honey, let him hang it all out. Now, Hilary, I know I’m not always discreet as I should be,
but—what
slanders do you mean?

HILARY
: That as an actor I merely carried a spear in a couple of Katharine Cornell productions, that for one. It happens to be that I supported Miss Cornell in three productions, including her
Cleopatra
, and it also happens that I received the Clarence Derwent Award, the first one given, as Mr. Browning in
Barretts
. Standby yes, but I gave twenty-six performances.

PLAYWRIGHT
:
That’s—that’s
very impressive
but—

HILARY
: Are you calling me a liar, you
old—derelict
?

PLAYWRIGHT
: I’m calling you nothing at all in spite of much provocation because I have notes to give and this hysteria of yours is holding us up.

JANE
[
to Tye
]: Can’t you make them stop this?

TYE
: Notes, he says, he’s got notes to give us.
—Christ
. . . .

HILARY
: Mr. Leigh-Bowes left notes for you, his chauffeur came in the stage door and left this page of notes. [
He throws it in the playwright’s face as the latter carefully mounts the steps over the orchestra pit onto the stage
.]

PLAYWRIGHT
: I hate to be bitchy,
but—

HILARY
: Can you HELP it?

PLAYWRIGHT
: No. You may be Mr. Leigh-Bowes’ asshole buddy from public school in England but still you look to me and you act to
me like an outpatient from Bellevue that ought to be back in. Now get the fuck off the stage while I exercise my right to give the performance notes.

HILARY
:
—You—despicable—!—old—

PLAYWRIGHT
: That’s your curtain line, baby, so use it and get off!

JANE
:
—I
play a scene like that and then am exposed to one like this and . . .

PLAYWRIGHT
: It’s just show-business, honey. Now about that curtain. Let’s discuss that curtain.
—Hilary
, I’m sorry but I do say things
so—go
take a breather at Sardi’s. [
Hilary goes off
.]
—About
that curtain, it may be effective, it could be, but it’s just a curtain and we can’t settle for that. Can we? Jane? Are you listening to me?

JANE
:
—Yes
. [
She separates herself from Tye’s perfunctory comfort
.]

PLAYWRIGHT
: A play’s not stopped by a curtain, I mean if it’s a true thing it continues after the curtain the way life does after sleep. It comes out of the night stop and goes into the next day. And maybe it goes on in the minds and hearts of the audience after, so
look—
[
Turns to Tye
.] You’re an incorrigible delinquent, she’s bright enough to know that. You’re weak, purposeless. Addictive. Right? [
Tye nods, expressionless
.] Oh, attractive, appealing, a cut above what you do or she wouldn’t have had you with her. But you’re employed by a gangster that’s ripped off the show head-liner because she defied him, and hell, you might go next because you’ve heard about it and know she’s not in Spain. You’re holding goods, hot goods, for your buddy, Smokey. You said you’ll be back at midnight with pizzas and vino, oh, that’s his immediate impulse, but Tye’s impulsive and his impulses don’t always stick. An accident brought you together, you’re attracted strongly, by
his—innocent
delinquency,
his—boyish
appeal,
but—are
you listening, Tye? [
No answer
.]

JANE
: He is.

PLAYWRIGHT
: He’s employed by gangsters, the mob, that’s ripped of the show’s head-liner because she defied Fat Charlie’s orders, and how do you know that Tye mightn’t go next since he’s heard about it and knows she’s not in Spain. He’s holding hot goods for his buddy,
comes home noon, falls stoned across the floor, needle-mark on his arm, smeared all over with lipstick.

TYE
: I think we’ve got the picture.

PLAYWRIGHT
[
to Tye
]: You tell her not to sweat dying with you, that you’ll be home at midnight with vino and pizza. And you’ll celebrate. What? Death? Hers? Coming soon?

TYE
: Dig.

PLAYWRIGHT
: The skylight’s not blue, now, it’s turned black as the piano-man singing. So. How certain are you that his immediate impulse will hold despite his weak, purposeless pattern? [
Jane shakes her head with a concentrated gravity
.]
—What
are you now?

JANE
: I am?
—Alone
.

PLAYWRIGHT
: No, you’re with the cat, as you said. An animal
is
a comforting presence sometimes!
—So
what do you do?

JANE
:
—This
. [
She bends slowly and gathers the invisible cat in her arms
.]

PLAYWRIGHT
: And say?

JANE
: Beret . . .

PLAYWRIGHT
: And look up at the black skylight with a question, then straight out into the house, your eyes dark
as—

JANE
:
—The
skylight?

PLAYWRIGHT
: Yes, that’s the true curtain. [
Starts back across the narrow steps
.] I think this bridge was erected with homicidal intentions . . .

Old cats know how to fall . . .

CURTAIN

Some Problems for the Moose Lodge
was first performed on November 8, 1980, as part of an evening of three short Williams plays titled.
Tennessee Laughs
, at the Goodman Theatre in Chicago. It was directed by Gary Tucker; the set design was by Joseph Nieminski; the costume design was by Ellen Ryba; the lighting design was by Robert Christian; and the sound design was by Michael Schweppe. The cast, in order of appearance, was as follows: