The Traveling Companion & Other Plays

by Tennessee Williams

  MISS SAILS [to herself]: Forgot that I couldn’t get up— [Then to an unknown person at the door.] Who is there, please?

  MALE VOICE: Dr. Santa Croce.

  MISS SAILS: You don’t sound like the doctor. Have been expecting the doctor but unless my hearing’s affected you are not Dr. Santa Croce.

  MALE VOICE: Afraid your hearing’s affected.

  MISS SAILS: Not in this way, no, your voice sounds false. If I could get to the phone I would call downstairs for someone to come up and identify you.

  [A young man of Italian descent enters. He is the night clerk, Giuseppe. He is handsome in the sensuous manner of young Southern Italians and wears a one-piece uniform tailored to accentuate his well-proportioned figure, bearing the insignia of the hotel. There is something malignly purring in his voice and it is evident that his entrance without permission has disturbed Miss Sails or, rather, increased her state of alarm.]

  MISS SAILS: Why, Giuseppe, how dare you impersonate Dr. Santa Croce and enter my apartment without permission.

  GIUSEPPE: You’ve had the “Don’t Disturb” sign on your door for two days and finally I thought that I’d better have a look at you. You see, I studied medicine for a year before I went into business management. Don’t have a stethoscope or the blood-pressure indicator but I can take your pulse.

  MISS SAILS: No. You will please leave at once and call Dr. Santa Croce.

  GIUSEPPE: That would be very difficult. I can’t summon the dead.

  MISS SAILS: Dead, did you say dead?

  [Giuseppe nods gravely.]

  MISS SAILS: —Ha! I would be terribly affected by this—this announcement if I believed it.

  GIUSEPPE: You don’t believe it?

  MISS SAILS: Certainly not at all! I would’ve heard of it immediately since he’s the house doctor, resident of the hotel and a close friend of mine for years.

  GIUSEPPE: Miss Sails, events do occur in the world even when you’re not quite with it, you know. A stroke called the doctor away immediately, well, just a few hours after you suffered yours in the restaurant of the hotel.

  MISS SAILS: You give yourself away. I think you know very well that I did not dine in the restaurant last night.

  GIUSEPPE: Night before last night.

  MISS SAILS: I dined out that night with Mr. Virgil Peterson, retired president of the New York Stock Exchange.

  GIUSEPPE: Dined at the stock exchange, did you?

  MISS SAILS: I will not put up with your viciously— [She attempts again to rise, unsuccessfully.] —Mr. Peterson, in-val-id, bed-ridden, the table was set in his bedroom.

  GIUSEPPE: How scandalous.

  MISS SAILS: This is intolerable, stop it! Did not suffer my misfortune in the hotel dining room, but in the lobby crossing to elevators. Your credibility is—zero minus. —What is your motive, inventing this lie about the doctor?

  GIUSEPPE: Regret to say it’s the truth. Probably the shock of your “misfortune” brought on his. His death was not immediate. We were almost hopeful of his recovery, he put on such a good show. Lay propped up on three pillows. Wrote prescriptions for himself. Then, all at once, out like a light, permanently.

  MISS SAILS: You’ve often betrayed this instinct to deceive me. Withheld urgent messages for me. Once I surprised you in here at midnight, sneaking about the suite for God or the Devil-knows-what!

  GIUSEPPE: Miss Sails, this sort of agitation is not what a good doctor would order. He’d recommend this bottle of Corvo Bianco, that our charming young barman, Tony, told me to bring you. Says it’s your favorite wine.

  MISS SAILS: That bottle’s half empty. I drink only Pouilly Fumé. And as for the charm of your barman, Tony, he had the impertinence once to brush my bare arm with his person while assuming the waiter’s business of pouring wine.

  GIUSEPPE: Brushed with what part of his “person”?

  MISS SAILS: A part I prefer not to mention.

  GIUSEPPE: Oh, back side or front?

  MISS SAILS: Front!

  GIUSEPPE: I see, I see. With the bulge of his crotch. Miss Sails, ladies of a certain age, especially in your agitated condition, are inclined to imagine little familiarities of that nature.

  MISS SAILS: My certain age is seventy-five.

  GIUSEPPE: You should never admit it since you don’t look it at all. Had various lifts, I suppose.

  MISS SAILS: None, ever. If I appear younger, it is due to a healthy regime—Gaylord Hauser’s diet.

  GIUSEPPE: Ah, si. Never mind. Wine for the lady.

  MISS SAILS: Not from you or your barman and bottle half-empty, possibly containing poison.

  GIUSEPPE: I’ve heard that you refer to me as that sneaky Wop on the desk at night.

  MISS SAILS: Oh, that may be. Since I know the hotel owner, I could’ve had you discharged and obviously I should have.

  GIUSEPPE: Take the wine!

  MISS SAILS: You take it, the rest of it. Get good and drunk.

  GIUSEPPE: Don’t get drunk on wine.

  MISS SAILS: On wine after how much hard liquor? Gin! You reek of it.

  GIUSEPPE: Take it, I said take it. [He presses the bottle to her mouth. She keeps it shut tight. He closes her nostrils. She is forced to open her mouth and he pours wine into it. She spits it into his face.] That was naughty, that was terribly naughty. [He rips the lace collar off her peignoir.] You’ve forced me to damage your beautiful negligee. [He wipes his face with the lace collar.] One must have patience with a lady of your eminence in the theater, however long in retirement.

  MISS SAILS: Retired at the peak of career, not willing to decline from it. Now what are you doing?

  GIUSEPPE: Taking your pulse.

  MISS SAILS: Oh, are you? A doctor looks at a watch when taking pulse, you’re holding my hand and staring greedily at my sunburst diamond.

  GIUSEPPE: I’ve heard it’s a famous diamond.

  MISS SAILS: From whom could you have heard this?

  GIUSEPPE: Mr. Virgil Peterson’s young companion, Luigi, told me about it.

  MISS SAILS: That just might be the truth. I’ve never trusted that boy. Not since Virgil told me he slept beside him at night and, and intimacies—I don’t wish to discuss it. Was rather taken aback that Virgil mentioned it to me. Must’ve been wandering in his mind a bit. Bed-ridden, you know. We must dine in his bedroom with that Luigi with us—smirking, why, sometimes whispering.

  GIUSEPPE: Whispering what, Miss Sails? Little frivolous remarks about his ancient employer?

  MISS SAILS: Little—whispered—obscenities! Warned Virgil about the boy but—useless! He’d change the subject. —Why are you tugging at the sunburst?

  GIUSEPPE: Valuables such as this famous diamond should be kept in the hotel security vault.

  MISS SAILS: It does not come off my finger. Having rheumatoid arthritis, the knuckle is so enlarged the sunburst cannot be removed from my finger.

  GIUSEPPE: Unless your finger were removed from your hand?

  [Miss Sails gasps and attempts to rise but falls back into the desk chair.]

  GIUSEPPE: You don’t appreciate my little joke?

  MISS SAILS: For the last time, get out.

  GIUSEPPE: Not before the nurse engaged for you comes to replace me.

  [A hypodermic needle falls to the floor as Miss Sails again attempts to rise from the desk chair.]

  GUISEPPE: Now what is this? You’ve been shooting up something?

  MISS SAILS: Vials of Parentrovite, a mega-vitamin obtainable only in England. Mr. Peterson gets them for me through an English friend.

  GIUSEPPE: This stuff is kept where?

  MISS SAILS: Frigidaire in my kitchenette, of course.

  GIUSEPPE: Excuse me while I see for myself.

  [He starts toward the bedroom door, the kitchenette being off the bedroom. Abruptly Miss Sails, with an amazing s
urge of energy, knocks the desk lamp from the floor and the room is plunged into darkness. We hear her fall to the floor. She crawls to the phone, and manages to lift the receiver.]

  MISS SAILS [into the phone]: Operator.

  [Giuseppe emerges from bedroom with a box of vitamins.]

  GIUSEPPE: Now what have we here? To get Miss Sophie on the phone you have to dial “O”.

  [He dials “O.” The room is faintly illuminated by traffic signals and blurred neon nine floors below.]

  GIUSEPPE: Sophie, baby? No outgoing calls from The Rose Garden Suite. Understand? Unless made by me.

  [There is a knock at door. Luigi enters. He has the same general type of sensuous appearance.]

  GIUSEPPE: Ciao, caro. [He embraces Luigi.]

  LUIGI: Awful odor in here.

  GUISEPPE: Yep. Vomit and urine and what we were taught as kids to call “Ca-ca.” [He switches on the overhead light.]

  MISS SAILS: What—vicious—remarks! Before this—partial recovery—used toilet—at that time still too confused to—

  LUIGI [to Guiseppe]: Flush it, Subito, prega.

  GIUSEPPE: You do that. Have to watch Miss Sails like a hawk. Spit wine in my face!

  MALE VOICE AT DOOR: What’s going on, what’s this shouting about in there? [Giuseppe covers the mouth of Miss Sails.]

  GIUSEPPE: Attending Miss Sylvia Sails till ambulance arrives.

  FEMALE VOICE: Woke us up just now. Would you kindly transfer us to another suite?

  MALE VOICE: Yes, fortunately we haven’t unpacked, flying west tomorrow.

  GIUSEPPE: Will arrange to have you transferred to The Mikado Suite on the twelfth floor at once.

  FEMALE VOICE: Do, please, if the ambulance hasn’t arrived.

  MALE VOICE: Put your wrapper on, honey, we’ll go right up.

  FEMALE VOICE: Outrageous commotion!

  [The voices subside, grumbling.]

  SCENE BLACKS OUT

  SCENE TWO

  There is a short passage of time.

  GIUSEPPE: Bitch bit my hand.

  LUIGI: Thought you were going to clear this floor for the night.

  GIUSEPPE: All cleared except for that couple.

  MISS SAILS [struggling, mouth still covered.]: MMMM. MMMM.

  LUIGI: What were they doing here?

  GIUSEPPE: Non lo so. Charlie the night doorman probably put ’em up here.

  MISS SAILS: MMMMM!

  GIUSEPPE: Shuddup! [He slaps her.] Elevator just stopped. Look out.

  LUIGI [peering into the corridor]: Yep, they took it. All clear now.

  GIUSEPPE: Charlie’s incorruptible, baby.

  LUIGI: Come tue balle.

  GIUSEPPE: She give him a five dollar tip to call her a cab. Now look here, Miss Sail Away, you’ve received no punishment like you’re going to receive if you raise any more commotion. Just sit there. Remember your past triumphs.

  LUIGI: Yes, in reverent silence. Or else.

  GIUSEPPE: So watch it. —Come over here, Luigi.

  [They cross to the opposite side of the living room for consultation.]

  GIUSEPPE: You said that sunburst diamond is her most valuable gift from Peterson.

  LUIGI: One of the most famous diamonds in world, catalogued in—

  GIUSEPPE: Well, it don’t come off her. Her goddam knuckles too swollen. Warned the bitch it could be removed by removing the finger. Question is would a missing finger be noticed if she accidentally or in a fit of despondency due to stroke managed to throw herself out the window.

  LUIGI: This is just the ninth floor. Not high enough to dismember a tough old bitch like her. What’s the top floor, never noticed?

  GIUSEPPE: Twelve stories.

  LUIGI: Should be higher.

  GIUSEPPE: There’s a water tower on the roof.

  LUIGI: Stupido! Who’d think she jumped off a water tower on the roof of this old landmark hotel?

  GIUSEPPE: We gotta work this out. Did you come here in Peterson’s limo?

  LUIGI: Sure.

  GIUSEPPE: I’m thinking fast. [Both are finishing the wine.] Look. Maybe got the solution. We carry her down the service elevator and to your limo.

  LUIGI: And then?

  GIUSEPPE: How about you coming up with something, whiz-kiddo?

  LUIGI: Gimme time.

  GIUSEPPE: Precious commodity, running out fast. Five A.M. and sunup’s when?

  LUIGI: For me when Peterson rolls over slowly and starts the Bangkok massage mitt with me.

  GIUSEPPE: Got it! Haul her to Peterson’s. How many stories?

  LUIGI: A high-rise, thirty-three stories, he’s got a two-story penthouse.

  GIUSEPPE: Perfetto, there’s the solution.

  LUIGI: Goddam jus’ remembered, didn’t come in the limo but a cab.

  GIUSEPPE: Why’d you do a fool thing like that, cretino?

  LUIGI: Car keys confiscated.

  GIUSEPPE: By Peterson?

  LUIGI: No. By female secretary that hates my guts.

  [There is a faint light appearing in the window.]

  GIUSEPPE: Allora, you could have taken Sail Away to Peterson’s in a cab.

  LUIGI: Will you try to think?

  GIUSEPPE: You, too. Anche tu!

  LUIGI: Cab driver would notice something wrong and report it.

  GIUSEPPE: Forse! The sunburst is worth the risk.

  LUIGI: Da vero. Think we’d better—think more.

  MISS SAILS: “The rabbit—is pounding—the medicine in the moon . . .”

  GIUSEPPE: Delirious.

  [The sky through the alcove windows lightens a little.]

  MISS SAILS [quietly.]: You have kept a long vigil, yes, the three of us have kept a long and tiring vigil. The options that you have discussed for my disposal, I’ve heard them and they all strike me as calling for—further—reflection . . . Sylvia Sails and her sunburst diamond have been so long together that separation of them now is difficult to imagine.

  GIUSEPPE: Wha’ she mimblin’?

  MISS SAILS: —Memory test of lines, not for this occasion, or any occasion, just—memory test . . .

  “Full fathom five thy father lies.

  Those are the pearls that were his”

  —no, no . . .

  “Of his bones are coral made.

  Those are the pearls that were his eyes”

  —yes

  “—clearing, without rest on three pillows . . .

  Nothing of him that doth fade

  But—doth suffer a sea change

  Into—into something rich and strange . . .”

  GIUSEPPE: Ch-rise . . .

  [He crosses to the love seat on which Luigi is resting. Luigi’s eyes fall shut. Out of habit, Giuseppe drops a hand on Luigi’s thigh.]

  GIUSEPPE [his voice is liquor-slurred]: How much did you drink before you came over here to provide ashistance?

  [Luigi breathes loudly in sleep.]

  GIUSEPPE: You pretty, you fuckin’ dumb li’l putana. Prob’ly dropped off at Club 54— Will you wake up? Shaid wake up. [He takes a packet of cocaine from a pocket.] Sniff some a this.

  LUIGI [in his half sleep]: Wha’, Virgie?

  [Giuseppe attempts to sniff some himself, but the packet slips from his fingers.]

  MISS SAILS: Lady Macbeth had no memorable lines but even that ham Evans couldn’t kill:

  “Tomorrow and tomorrow and—

  moves in its petty pace from day to day,

  to the last—decibel —Digital? Syllable of recorded time.

  And all our tomorrows—yesterdays—have lighted fools

  the way to—dusty death . . .”

  [The sky brightens further.]

  MISS SAILS: Gentlemen, it is morning.

  GIUSEPPE: Chris
e, she’s right.

  MISS SAILS: Things are stirring, traffic and pedestrians on the street, elevators, chambermaids in the corridor. And the door remains unlocked.

  GIUSEPPE [staggering up]: Better lock it.

  [A brisk woman enters with an empty suitcase.]

  GIUSEPPE: Luigi, for Chrissake, wake up! —We’ve had an all night vigil you know, watching over, you know.

  WOMAN: Yes, I know. How are you, Miss Sails?

  MISS SAILS: I have a friend, a lady of the theater, retired too early as I did. Now when we meet she puts things strangely, not “Good morning, how are you?” But seizes my arm with a wild look and says “How did the fortress of your heart endure?”

  WOMAN: Tell me later. I’m packing your essentials right now, at Mr. Peterson’s insistence.

  GIUSEPPE: Luigi, we’ve been relieved.

  WOMAN: Wouldn’t put it that way.

  [Luigi staggers up out of sleep.]

  GIUSEPPE: Le’s go, andiamo.

  [They start out.]

  WOMAN: Not far.

  [Guiseppi and Luigi exit.]

  WOMAN [seizing the phone]: Of course I know Luigi but who’s the other?

  MISS SAILS: Giuseppe—Yes.

  WOMAN [into the phone]: Have the police here at once to intercept two young criminals who think they’re getting out.

  [With amazing alacrity, the woman packs the “essentials”, including a strong box concealed behind a painting. An attendant rolls a wheelchair into the room.]

  WOMAN: For the lady. Roll it to her, please.

  MISS SAILS: I think I can make it unassisted, having survived such a night. [She draws herself up heroically and with tottering steps goes to occupy the wheelchair.] Morning! —Morning! Sunburst!

  [The stage dims out as she is wheeled out of the Rose Garden Suite by the attendant, and the woman dispatched by Virgil Peterson continues collecting “essentials.”]