MR. PALFREY. We can’t get Booger Red over there to look into it. He’s all wrapped up in his ball game.
DELRAY. Sir, there is no one named Booger Red employed at Delray’s New Moon, and there never will be.
Delray goes to the bar, where Duvall is intently watching the television game.
DELRAY. No, no, no. These stemmed glasses don’t go under the bar, they hang from the overhead rack. Nothing is where it should be. Duvall? Duvall? Do you hear what I’m saying?
DUVALL. (Raises hand for silence) Wait. Field goal. (Leans and goes into bodily contortions as ball is kicked, then slumps with disgust as try obviously fails)
DELRAY. Sammy and Kate opened up as usual this morning. I told you last night the place was to be closed. That kitchen should have been shut down and ready for my inspection.
DUVALL. I’ll see about it at halftime.
DELRAY. (Pulls plug on television set) No. Now. (Opens memorandum book) Turn to “Saturday” in your Daily Planner. “Things to do today.” Look. Not one of them has been done. Every day we’re falling further and further—where’s your Daily Planner?
DUVALL. I lost it somewhere.
DELRAY. You lost your Daily Planner? And you said nothing to me about it? What if it should fall into the hands of my competitors?
DUVALL. I’m using this notebook now. (Flips through it, stops to read) Mrs. Vetch wants to know if she can take her iron to Avalon. It’s a small—
DELRAY. I don’t want to hear one more word about Mrs. Vetch’s small iron. I want to see some work going forward here. I’m beginning to wonder about your dedication, Duvall. You said share in my vision and help me whip this place into shape. Isn’t that what you told me? No, don’t write that down! You keep writing things down but nothing ever gets done. Why is that?
DUVALL. I can’t do everything. I need a helper.
DELRAY. No, Duvall, you are the helper. Your job is to help me. You are a management trainee.
DUVALL. If I’m in management why don’t I have any keys?
DELRAY. (Jiggles ring of keys on belt) Keys come later.
DUVALL. But I can never look forward to having a helper? I thought this was America, Delray.
DELRAY. How can I get through to you? Don’t you realize how fortunate you are? To be permitted to share in my dreams? Of transforming this old derelict hotel into a little wayside jewel?
DUVALL. Everything takes so long. I thought we would be open by now, and I would be in my maroon dinner jacket. You said I would carry off-white menus two feet high cradled in my arm. That I would greet the guests and assume a grave manner—frown even—as I checked their names against our reservations book.
DELRAY. Do you know what your fitness grade is at this moment? It’s unsatisfactory.
DUVALL. I do my job. I have a pleasant word for everybody.
DELRAY. But you don’t do your job, that’s just it. Do you know what an executive does? He executes. He sees things through to completion. (Shakes finger at him) And what do you do? You start something and then drift away.
DUVALL. (Goes rigid, distant, almost menacing) No, don’t point your finger at me, Delray. Nobody points their finger at me.
Pause. The mood gradually passes, Duvall returns to normal.
DUVALL. Maybe I should go back to college full time and get my psychology degree.
DELRAY. Maybe you should. That might be the best place for you. Maybe you should go back to the campus and hang around for thirty or forty years.
DUVALL. But then I couldn’t make my car payments.
DELRAY. (Solemn, pushes face into Duvall’s face) Listen to me. Put your right hand on my shoulder. Give me your full attention. Do you dare to win, Duvall?
DUVALL. (Taken aback. Then becomes solemn himself) Yes…I do.
DELRAY. I didn’t quite hear that.
DUVALL. I do dare to win.
DELRAY. Do you dare to lead?
DUVALL. I do dare to lead, Delray.
DELRAY. Say “I can.”
DUVALL. I can.
DELRAY. From your heart.
DUVALL. I can!
DELRAY. “I will.”
DUVALL. I will!
DELRAY. Once more.
DUVALL. I can! I will!
DELRAY. Good boy. (Claps him on the back) That’s more like it. A fresh start. Now sort these glasses out and let’s get on with it. (Looks at watch) What’s keeping that van? Where is Ruth Buttress? I want these old people out of here. They frighten me. They disgust me. Why aren’t they wearing their Avalon caps?
DUVALL. I’ll see to it. Those caps are around here somewhere.
DELRAY. And let’s get a sign in the window. “Closed for Remodeling.”
DUVALL. Leave it to me.
DELRAY. Tell Kate and Sammy to clean up back there and then clear out.
DUVALL. Leave it to me.
DELRAY. Good boy.
Delray exits. Duvall remains seated, plugs in television set, resumes watching game. Attention shifts back to old people, whose conversation now becomes audible.
MRS. VETCH. How much longer do they expect us to sit around here waiting? Why don’t they just tie us up in towsacks [pronounced toe-sacks] with some brickbats and drown us like kittens? Get it over with, I say. I’m ready. Why don’t they just wring our old necks like chickens and watch us flop around on the floor? I’m tired of waiting for Ruth Buttress. I’m ready to go.
MR. MINGO. The van will be here all too soon, I’m afraid.
Muttering from Mr. Niblis.
MR. PALFREY. How far along do you reckon he is?
MR. MINGO. He never tells us.
MRS. VETCH. Sometimes he blows froth and bubbles when he’s reviewing his life.
FERN. Look, he’s smiling. It may be that he’s lingering over his happy boyhood days.
MR. MINGO. He tells us nothing about his boyhood.
MRS. VETCH. (Beats at cigarette ashes smoldering on Mr. Niblis’s clothes) Now you’ve set yourself on fire again!
MR. NIBLIS. (Coming around) What?
MRS. VETCH. (Pours Coke on burning spot) You’re burning another hole in your clothes!
MR. PALFREY. Where had you got to, Mr. Niblis? In raking over your life?
MR. MINGO. He won’t say. He reveals nothing. I’ve always been open about such things myself. I share with one and all. The long farce of my own life.
MRS. VETCH. It’s just so hard, ending up like this. A woman’s life is so—strange. I don’t know where it all went. Or my mother’s things. She had so many beautiful things and now they’re scattered to the four winds. (She touches boxes) Of course I still have a few odds and ends. I have my scrapbooks. But not my linens or my silver or my china. There’s a big grinning ape in Shreveport eating off my mother’s Wedgwood dinner service.
Sounds of a car driving up. The engine is raced, then shut off. Heads turn, apprehensive looks at front door.
MR. MINGO. Ah. Here she is. We’re off at last. To the vale of Avalon.
MRS. VETCH. (Flustered, gathering at her things) Oh my! So soon? And in the rain too! I hadn’t counted on leaving in the rain!
MR. NIBLIS. What is it? What’s going on?
MR. MINGO. Time to go. Our time has come to be put away. Ruth Buttress is here.
MR. NIBLIS. (Stubs out cigarette, reaches for bag) Well, that’s it then. The jig is up.
MRS. VETCH. But I still don’t understand why we can’t stay on here at the Sunnyside, Mr. Mingo. It was never properly explained to me. Don’t they owe us a better explanation? I’m just not ready to go yet.
MR. MINGO. I know, but we have a firm appointment.
Act II
The scene is the same, moments later.
FERN. (Who has gone to the window) No, it’s not the van. It’s Lenore and Tonya. About time, too.
Lenore, Fern’s much younger sister, enters hastily out of the rain, with her daughter Tonya, a girl six or seven years old. There are greetings.
MR. PALFREY. (Still seated, holding his arms out to Tonya) The
re she is! There’s my baby! Come here this minute and give Granddaddy some sugar!
Tonya goes to him, submits to being hugged, and kissed on both cheeks. Then she backs away and wipes her face with her arm.
MR. PALFREY. Hey, don’t you wipe my sugar off! Would you look at that? That girl is wiping off my sugar!
LENORE. I had trouble getting the car started. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. Then we got caught in the rain.
FERN. One excuse is enough. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting here?
MR. PALFREY. Aw, it don’t matter. We was having a nice visit here with these folks. Here, Lenore, I want you to meet—
LENORE. No, we don’t have time for that, Daddy. Let’s get your things loaded. Boyce wants to talk to you about something important. Let’s go. Let’s get your things loaded. I hate driving in the rain. All those big trucks throwing up slop on your windshield.
MR. PALFREY. Well…all right then…
Bustle of departure, farewells. Fern is the last to leave. She stops at front door, then comes back to Mrs. Vetch. Takes her hand and pats it.
FERN. You’ll make some new friends there. Avalon won’t be so bad.
MR. NIBLIS. It will be the abomination of desolation.
FERN. Well…goodbye…
She leaves. There is only the sound of the rain and the television ball game. The three old people sit staring, vacant, motionless. Outside there are sounds of car doors closing. One car is started. Then come the feeble grinding noises of the starter on the second car. The engine doesn’t catch. The starter noises become weaker. More slamming of car doors. Mr. Palfrey, his two daughters and Tonya troop back in and return to their table.
MR. PALFREY. Just go on, Fern. Go on back to Texarkana. No use in you waiting around here. It’s nothing much. We’ll get it fixed.
FERN. On Saturday? You can’t get a car fixed on Saturday. I don’t like to leave you stranded.
LENORE. And that’s just what we are! We’re stranded travelers! I’ll have to call Boyce to come get us! Where’s the phone?
FERN. The pay phone is just outside there.
LENORE. (Looks in purse for change, starts for door) Always something!
TONYA. (Calling after her) But Daddy’s not at home! He’s gone to the gun, knife and coin show!
LENORE. I forgot! (Claps forehead) Now what? Now we really are stranded!
MR. PALFREY. Don’t take on about it so. It’s nothing much. (Calls to Duvall) Hey! You! Booger Red! You want to make twenty dollars real fast!
DUVALL. Doing what?
MR. PALFREY. We need a jump start on that green car out there. But I want you to brush off the battery terminals first. Can you do that?
DUVALL. I can do anything I take a notion to do.
MR. PALFREY. A jump from the blue car to the green car, that’s all. You get it started and I got a twenty-dollar bill for you. But I don’t want you messing with it if you don’t know what you’re doing.
DUVALL. Aren’t you a little bit out of touch with things, sir? You don’t know much about the youth of America today, do you?
MR. PALFREY. I don’t know nothing about you.
DUVALL. You should read Parade magazine in your Sunday paper sometime. You might learn a thing or two about all the brilliant young achievers of my generation. We have new ideas and new values. We have a new spirit.
MR. PALFREY. (Holds up $20 bill) Five minute’s work. Twenty dollars.
DUVALL. We are your artists and your explorers of tomorrow. We are your group therapists and your guidance counselors and your committee chairmen.
MR. PALFREY. There’s a steel brush and some jumper cables in the trunk of that blue car.
DUVALL. As soon as I get my psychology degree I’m going into clinical work. Disturbed people will come to me and pay me good money to listen to all their personal stuff. People who have lost their way in the world and don’t know what to do.
MR. PALFREY. A little more far [fire] to the starter of that green car, that’s all it needs. It won’t take long. If you know what you’re doing.
Pause.
DUVALL. You’re not daring me to start that car, are you?
MR. PALFREY. I dare you and I double-dog dare you.
DUVALL. (Strides across room) Let me have the keys.
MR. PALFREY. The keys are in the cars.
DUVALL. And the money.
MR. PALFREY. After it’s started.
DUVALL. (Snatches bill from Mr. Palfrey’s hand) I get paid up front.
MR. PALFREY. That’s one of your new ideas?
DUVALL. I’ve made my commitment. The car will be started.
Duvall goes to the front door, where he is intercepted by Delray, who comes in shaking rainwater from his arms and fingers.
DELRAY. All the glasses in place?
DUVALL. Not yet. I got to get that old guy’s car started.
DELRAY. That’s nothing to do with us!
DUVALL. It’s a matter of personal honor. I’ve been challenged, Delray.
DELRAY. We don’t have time for that!
DUVALL. Look, I’m putting those people back on the road. You don’t want them hanging around here all day, do you?
DELRAY. (Looks at Mr. Palfrey. Exasperated sigh) All right, but don’t waste a lot of time on it. Are the painters working upstairs?
DUVALL. Not today. Not on Saturday.
DELRAY. Then who’s up there?
DUVALL. Nobody. The painters won’t be back till Monday. I made a sweep this morning and all the rooms are clear. The last of the old nesters are down. Vetch, Mingo, Niblis. There was no trouble. Mr. Niblis was down early. I was afraid we might have to gas him out.
DELRAY. You tell me you made a sweep and all the rooms are clear. Well, all the rooms are not clear. I was outside just now and I saw some people in that corner room at the back. Room Six, I think it is. The faces of four or five morons, all crowded together at the window, peering down at me.
DUVALL. Literally morons?
DELRAY. Yes, watching my every move.
DUVALL. Grinning and making faces at you?
DELRAY. No, just watching me steadily like—I don’t know—a family of cats. When I moved my hand—slowly, like this—their heads turned and they followed the movement with their eyes.
DUVALL. It sounds like we’ve got some window peepers on our hands.
DELRAY. Window peepers peep into windows, not out of windows.
DUVALL. Probably just some kids. They like to play in empty hotels. I pray to God they’re not playing with matches up there.
DELRAY. Kids like to play in empty hotels? What, pretending to be little traveling salesmen?
DUVALL. Well, you know, they like to prowl around in empty buildings.
DELRAY. Where is Ruth Buttress?
DUVALL. No sign of her.
DELRAY. No late word from Avalon?
DUVALL. Nothing. (Pointing up stairs) You need some help with the intruders?
DELRAY. No, just get that old man and his family on their way.
DUVALL. Try to gauge their level of understanding, Delray, before you explain what you want them to do.
DELRAY. What?
DUVALL. The morons. You need to establish the level of their listening skills and their interactive social skills. Go slow with them. Appeal to their self-esteem. That’s the approach I would take. Gain their confidence before you—
DELRAY. I can handle the morons in Room Six. You just take care of that car business and get back to your work pronto.
DUVALL. Check.
They exit, Duvall outside, Delray up the stairs.
MR. PALFREY. (To Tonya) How do you like your new school, baby?
TONYA. Fine.
MR. PALFREY. Do you like your new teacher?
TONYA. I like her fine.
MR. PALFREY. What have you been doing in school?
TONYA. Dressing up like different animals and different vegetables.
LENORE. She didn’t make the honor roll.
> MR. PALFREY. That’s all right, she’ll make it next time. (Then back to Tonya) Now tell me this, baby. Here’s what I want to know. Who do you love best—Papaw Gibbet or Grand-daddy Palfrey?
TONYA. I love you best, Grand-daddy.
MR. PALFREY. (Gives her a dollar bill) See how crafty she is, Mr. Mingo? She gets that from me. That’s her Palfrey blood. She’s a sharp little thing and her breath is sweet enough but look how big and red and flat her feet are. (To Tonya) Show him, hon.
Tonya holds up a sandaled foot.
MR. PALFREY. See? Flat as a pancake. But all the Palfreys have small feet with fine high arches. That’s a Gibbet foot, Mr. Mingo, not a Palfrey foot. Let Boyce Gibbet marry into your family and that’s the kind of feet you’ll get ever time.
Tonya walks back toward corridor.
MR. PALFREY. (Claps hands together) No, don’t go back there, baby. You stay up here with us. There’s a dead man back there on a bed, or a sick man. He might have something bad wrong with him. We don’t know what’s going on in this honky tonk.
TONYA. But I need to go to the bathroom, Grand-daddy.
MR. PALFREY. Well here, Lenore, take her on back there and let her do her job, but keep aholt of her hand and come straight back. We don’t know what’s going on around here. It used to be a nice place to stop off for pie.
Lenore and Tonya exit. Enter Duvall, furious, wet, dirty.
DUVALL. There’s fire getting to the starter but it’s dragging. I can’t do any more. I’m through fooling with it.
MR. PALFREY. Wait, you haven’t done anything yet. That plunger thing must be stuck in the solenoid. Get a rock and tap on it. Two or three smart taps will break it loose.
DUVALL. (Drying hands on towel behind bar) Tapped, you say? You want it tapped? (Goes to carpenter’s tool tray and picks up claw hammer) I’ll give it two or three smart taps!
MR. PALFREY. Not too hard now.
Duvall exits. Fern goes to window to watch him.
FERN. (Peering through glass) What is he doing? (Sudden alarm) No, not that car! Not the blue car! There’s nothing wrong with my car!
She dashes outside. Four or five rapid harmer blows are heard, steel on steel. Duvall re-enters, puts hammer away, washes again at sink, resumes watching ball game. Fern re-enters, agitated.
Escape Velocity Page 28