by Jim Grimsley
GORDON. There could be a thousand reasons. You can’t help her by trying to imagine them all.
HELEN. She’s still out there somewhere. She hasn’t gone back across the field.
GORDON. Come sit down.
HELEN. I’m all right.
GORDON. I don’t think you are. Come on.
(GORDON leads HELEN to a seat.)
GORDON. Lean back. Lean back against me. That’s good.
(Sound of wind.)
HELEN. Listen. Do you hear?
GORDON. We may have quite an evening.
HELEN. Is it getting darker?
GORDON. Hush. Be still. Relax, let me hold you.
(HELEN gradually relaxes.)
HELEN. I need to get supper.
GORDON. Relax for a minute. Now listen. Just listen. You cannot let yourself get involved with these people. If they have problems, they have to solve them. Without any help from you or me.
HELEN. I just gave her a ride home from the store, Gordon.
GORDON. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about you. You’re letting these people affect your mind.
HELEN. I just feel so bad, watching them. Their clothes. Their house. I wouldn’t make a dog live in that house. People shouldn’t have to live like that.
GORDON. I know they shouldn’t. But people have been living like that forever. And there isn’t a whole lot people like you and me can do about it.
HELEN. That sounds so simple when you say it.
GORDON. It is. Really. Listen, Mr. Jarman told me all about these people. He’s known them for years. This is just the way they are, fighting all the time. This is just the way they live.
HELEN. I thought you didn’t remember her.
GORDON. What?
HELEN. When I brought her up. I thought you didn’t remember her.
GORDON. I didn’t.
HELEN. Oh.
GORDON. Mr. Jarman started the conversation, not me. Way back when we moved in. He asked me if we liked our new neighbors, and I said I didn’t know anything about them. And he said to keep it that way. He said their people have been living in shacks like that as far back as anybody can remember.
HELEN. Mr. Jarman doesn’t know everything.
GORDON. He’s been around here a lot longer than we have.
HELEN. That family wouldn’t live that way if somebody would teach them better.
GORDON. How do you know? Do you know what to teach them?
HELEN. No.
GORDON. Then how do you know what to do?
HELEN. I just know. It makes sense. (Pause.) I know for sure that woman shouldn’t have to be afraid of her husband.
GORDON (gently, without condescension). You don’t know if she’s afraid of him or not. And it doesn’t matter anyway. The point is still the same. We can’t do anything about the way they live. (Pause.) At least it’s not like that for everybody. (Pause.) Now let me tell you a story about a man who loved his wife very much, see if that will make you feel better. Once upon a time there was a man who loved his wife very much. Almost as much as I love you. He had a good job and he worked very hard because he wanted to take care of his wife forever and ever. He bought her a fine house and bought her nice clothes, he gave her a car to drive and her own money to spend. He took her to church and to prayer meeting and they ate dinner at good places and whenever they were in public he kept her close to him and protected her. And he spent a lot of time thinking, all the time, of ways to make her happy and to make her life as easy and safe as it could be. Because he loved her. Because he had always loved her, ever since he first knew her. And he wanted her to be happy all the time and never have any worries at all. And he always treated her kindly and never chased her into the woods. Doesn’t that sound like a nice story?
HELEN. It’s very nice.
GORDON. Do you feel better?
HELEN. Yes. I’m fine.
(HELEN rises.)
GORDON. What’s wrong? What did I say?
HELEN. Nothing.
GORDON. Something’s wrong, I can tell.
HELEN. Listen to you. You’re making fun of me. Your story. It isn’t even a story. Nothing happens. You give me money. You take care of me. You protect me. You make me happy. You love me. What do I do?
GORDON. I didn’t mean anything like what you’re making of it.
HELEN. No, tell me. What do I do? In your story. What do I do? (Pause.) I’ll tell you what I do. I take care of the house. I thaw out chicken. I repot the ferns.
GORDON. That’s not what I meant.
HELEN. I never should have let you talk me into this. I didn’t get this angry at you when I was still working.
(Phone rings before she finishes.
GORDON answers it.
HELEN returns to the window.)
GORDON. Hello Jenny. (Looks at HELEN, who shakes her head no.) No. She’s not here right now. I don’t know where she is. The car was gone when I got home. She’ll be back sometime soon, she’s never gone long. You want me to … (Pause; looks for paper, then realizes he doesn’t need to take a message.) You want me to take a message? Sure, I’ll get her to. Sure. Oh, she’s fine. (Pause.) She didn’t go? Well, I wonder why. I know she loved that book she was reading last week. (Pause.) Well, she’s not sick, she’s fine. (Pause.) Good. Say hello to Bob for me. Is he still fat as ever? Yeah? That’s great. No, that’s great. Yeah, sure. Take care too. Bye.
HELEN. She asked about the meeting.
GORDON. She was afraid you missed because you were sick.
HELEN. I’m supposed to take her some recipes tonight.
GORDON. Well, get your sweater and we’ll run over there. It’d be nice to see big old Bob anyway.
HELEN (looking out the window). I don’t want to go. Not right now. (Pause.) I’ll call her in a few minutes.
(GORDON watches HELEN.)
GORDON. Would you come away from there?
HELEN. I’m watching the clouds, that’s all.
(GORDON comes up behind her and embraces her.
She allows this but not with enthusiasm.)
GORDON. I’m sorry. I didn’t think of my story as making fun of you.
HELEN. It’s all right.
GORDON. I guess in some ways this has been the hardest on you. Moving out here.
HELEN. It’s fine, most of the time. I miss my job. (Pause.) That’s so funny. I never thought I would.
GORDON. You’ll feel different once you see Dr. Luder again. Once you know for sure you’re pregnant. Then it won’t seem like you don’t have enough to do, then you’ll have the baby to think about. (Pause.) You sure you don’t want to go see old Bob and Jenny?
HELEN. I really don’t feel like it tonight.
GORDON. Are you mad at her?
HELEN. No. I do get tired of her.
GORDON. I thought you liked her.
HELEN. I do. (Pause.) She bores me after a while. She’s always making desserts. Tonight I’m supposed to take her a recipe for seven-layer pie. The one I can’t stand, with all that canned lime juice on it. She’ll probably make it while I’m sitting there and then feed half of it to Bob. (Pause.) I’d rather stay home. Where it’s peaceful.
GORDON (looking out the window). If it stays peaceful. With this storm coming. (Pause.) Don’t they ever plow cornstalks under?
HELEN. You’re asking me?
GORDON. That field over there is so ugly, all those cornstalks and that mud. We should plant some trees at the edge of the yard.
HELEN. What about when it has corn in it? Didn’t you want to watch the corn grow and all like that?
GORDON. We can go look at the corn when we want to go look at the corn. We’ll walk out there and watch it. Stand under our trees and look at the corn. Like we were farmers.
HELEN. I went to see Dr. Luder today.
GORDON. You did? I didn’t think the test would be back for another couple of days.
HELEN. The test isn’t back yet. (Pause.) But my period started this morning. So I cal
led him.
(Silence.
Their disappointment indicates they have been trying to have a child for some time.)
GORDON. So you’re not pregnant.
HELEN. I guess I’m not. (Pause.) I was so sure this time.
GORDON. What did Luder say?
HELEN. He says you need to have a fertility test.
(Silence.)
GORDON. So what you’re saying is, this is my fault.
HELEN. No, that’s not what I said and that’s not what Dr. Luder said.
GORDON. Yes it is. You think there’s something wrong with me, both of you.
HELEN. No, we don’t.
GORDON. Then what do you want me to take some test for?
HELEN. There’s nothing wrong with anybody. But there’s some reason I’m not getting pregnant, Gordon. We’re trying to find out what it is.
GORDON. How do you know it’s not something wrong with you?
HELEN. I already had my tests. And I didn’t make such a big deal about it, either.
GORDON. That’s not the same thing.
HELEN. For goodness’ sake, Gordon, of course it is. What is wrong with you?
GORDON. You have been at me about that test till I’m sick of it.
HELEN. Because we want to have a baby. Don’t we?
GORDON. Yes.
HELEN. Have you changed your mind? Do you want to forget it?
GORDON. You know how much I want a baby.
HELEN. Well you have to do a little more about it than paint the nursery.
GORDON. Now that’s not fair, I’m doing everything I can. We have just about beat each other to death trying to get you pregnant.
(Soft laughter.
Silence.)
HELEN. It’s not anybody’s fault.
GORDON. But you think it’s because of me. Say it.
HELEN (after a moment). Yes. I guess I do.
(Silence.
GORDON goes to the window.)
HELEN. So will you please go to see Dr. Luder?
(Silence.)
GORDON (at the window). There’s your friend out there.
HELEN. Who? The woman?
GORDON. It looks like her husband. Trying to find his wife, I guess.
(HELEN joins him.)
HELEN. I wonder why he’s looking for her.
GORDON. Maybe he wants his supper.
HELEN. That’s not funny. (Turning away from the window.) I ought to start yours. Ours.
GORDON (gently; ending the argument without conceding). You don’t have to cook if you don’t want to. We could get something in town. Have dinner at that home-cooking place.
HELEN. It’s so far.
GORDON. I’ve gotten so I don’t even think about driving, these days. If the traffic’s not bad.
(Wind rises suddenly.
The sound of a screen door slowly banging is heard.)
HELEN. We don’t want to go out in this.
GORDON. Honey, we’d be in a car.
HELEN. I hate driving in a storm. Especially on these narrow roads.
GORDON. I thought I fixed that goddamn door.
(Exit GORDON.
HELEN opens the window, which should billow from breezes.
The sound of the wind is closer.
She hears a smattering of rain.)
HELEN. That poor woman. That poor thing.
(She steps away from the window.
Enter GORDON.)
GORDON. Rain’s really coming down now, all right.
HELEN. Every afternoon. I remember there was always a storm in the afternoon when I was at my aunt’s.
GORDON. Sure does change the feel of things. I love the smell. You ought to go stand on the porch.
HELEN. You really like it out here, don’t you?
GORDON. Yes. It makes a lot of difference. It’s so quiet.
HELEN. I guess I never think about it all that much.
GORDON. You grew up in places like this, I didn’t. I never lived anywhere that didn’t have suburbs and shopping centers everywhere you looked. This is how kids should grow up, in places like this. Where they have plenty of room, playing in the woods, swimming in the river, all that.
HELEN (changing the subject). Well, if I don’t get this supper started we won’t eat till midnight.
GORDON. I told you I’ll take you out.
HELEN. I know. But I don’t want to go anywhere, not tonight.
(Exit HELEN.
Rain begins to fall in earnest.
GORDON continues to admire the storm.)
GORDON. God I love the country. Look at that. All across the field, just pouring down. Makes you think of—all kinds of things. Farming. Plants growing. All that stuff. New thoughts. All that stuff. Makes you feel almost like being alive again. Living out here. Not like Sandy Springs. I still can’t believe we found this place. (Laughs softly, calls to HELEN.) Helen, do you want a drink? I think I’ll have one.
(HELEN does not respond.
GORDON shrugs and pours himself a glass of bourbon, neat.
A soft knock sounds.
GORDON watches the entrance warily and decides he has not heard any knocking.
After a moment the knock sounds again.
GORDON answers the door.
Enter ELEANOR, wet, in worn clothes and shoes.)
GORDON. Hello.
ELEANOR. I’m real sorry to bother you.
GORDON. Yes?
ELEANOR. I live across the field over there.
GORDON. Yes?
ELEANOR. I’m real sorry. (Pause.) Could you … could I … come in, just for a minute? (Looks over her shoulder.) To use the phone.
GORDON. Don’t you have a phone at your house?
ELEANOR. No.
GORDON. Oh. (Pause.) Sort of wet out there.
ELEANOR. Rain’s coming down pretty good, all right.
GORDON. Did you walk all the way across the field, in it?
ELEANOR. I was … already outside. When the storm started.
(The phone should be close to the entry.
GORDON hands her the receiver.)
GORDON. Do you know the number you want to call? The book is right here.
(GORDON hands her the book, which should be small, befitting a rural area.
He returns to his drink, watching her.
ELEANOR looks up the number.
She is embarrassed, conscious of her wetness in the pretty house.)
ELEANOR. I hope I don’t mess up your floor.
GORDON. Don’t worry about it, it’s got a good seal.
(She looks at the phone.
Suddenly she becomes afraid and freezes.
GORDON, in spite of himself, watches.
She dials the phone, then after a moment presses down the switch hook and holds it down.
She repeats this.
She dials again and this time lets the phone ring, though it need not be heard, but she hangs it up soon after.
She is agitated, near tears.)
ELEANOR. It’s busy.
GORDON. Would you like to wait? To call again?
ELEANOR. Thank you. I don’t guess I should.
GORDON (showing the slightest sympathy for the first time). Are you sure? You really can wait.
ELEANOR. Thank you, I ought to go.
(ELEANOR turns to go.
Enter HELEN.)
HELEN. I can hear you out here Gordon, have you started talking to yourself? (Sees ELEANOR.) Oh. Hello, Eleanor.
ELEANOR. Good evening, ma’am.
HELEN (glancing at GORDON). I didn’t hear anyone come in.
ELEANOR (heading to the door). I come to use the phone. Your husband showed me where it was. And now I ought to get home.
HELEN. You’re not going out again. Gordon. Don’t tell me you were going to let her out in that storm again.
GORDON. I asked her to wait. But she said she just wanted to use the phone.
(HELEN simply watches him for a moment.)
HELEN. You know perfectly
well she doesn’t just need to use the phone. She’s soaked. Get my robe from the bedroom, please, Gordon. The big one. And bring towels.
(They have a moment of silent argument.
Exit GORDON.)
HELEN. You’re half-frozen.
ELEANOR. It was a pretty big storm.
HELEN. I wish you … had come here sooner.
(The women watch each other.
HELEN discovers a bruise on ELEANOR’s face.
Enter GORDON, with robe and towels.)
GORDON. This yellow one is it, right?
HELEN. Yes.
(ELEANOR removes HELEN’s hand from the bruise before GORDON sees it.)
HELEN. Go clear out the bathroom down here, Gordon, so it’s fit for her to go in. There’s towels and fur all over the place from when you shampooed the dog.
GORDON. I didn’t clean those up yet?
HELEN (to ELEANOR). Listen to him, so innocent. (To GORDON.) No, you didn’t, and you know it. And I told you I wasn’t going to do it this time, and I’m not.
GORDON (exiting). All right, all right.
HELEN. I’ve told him to wash the dog outside but he won’t listen. He thinks a dog is people. The dog has to take a bath in the bathtub and dry off with my good towels.
ELEANOR. I don’t let any dogs in my house.
HELEN. Do you keep dogs?
ELEANOR. My children have two. Mongrels, both of them. Look like wolfs.
(Silence.
By now ELEANOR is in the robe, which she admires.)
HELEN. Your husband was looking for you. Out in the field.
ELEANOR. I didn’t see him.
HELEN. He was walking along the edge of the field. On this side. At the beginning of the rain.
(ELEANOR does not respond.
HELEN goes to the window.)
HELEN. Do you think he’s still out there?
ELEANOR. Yes.
HELEN. Even in all this rain?
ELEANOR. He don’t care about the rain.
(Enter GORDON.)
GORDON. All clear, clean and shining.
HELEN. I certainly hope so. (To ELEANOR.) Now you just go in there and get yourself straight. Take a bath if you want to. Everything’s right there. Through that door to the left. Do you want me to show you?
ELEANOR (exiting). No ma’am, I’ll be fine.
(Exit ELEANOR.
HELEN follows her almost to the exit.)
HELEN (to ELEANOR). Are you hungry? Would you like some hot soup or a sandwich?