JOE: He’s good on Irving though.
PHILIP: I didn’t realize anyone even read him on Irving anymore.
(Beat) I didn’t realize anyone read Irving anymore. (Looks to Henry)
HENRY: I don’t.
(Joe picks up a book.)
PHILIP: What’s that?
JOE (Putting it back): Second printing. (Picks up another) Ever met him?
PHILIP: Booth? No.
JOE: You should, it’s an experience.
HENRY: I question some of the things he has to say about Conrad.
PHILIP: You do?
(Beat.)
HENRY: You know I did my thesis on Conrad.
PHILIP: Then you should know. (Short pause. He looks at the picture of Booth on the book) We shared a table at the MLA one day. If you’d had to watch him eat, you’d never read a word he wrote again. (Philip has taken the book and now puts it back) At least not on art.
JOE (Without looking up): In Chicago? (Beat) Was the MLA that year in Chicago?
PHILIP (Browsing): Atlanta.
(Beat.)
HENRY: I was at the one in Chicago.
(Pause.)
JOE: Philip was there, too, weren’t you? You brought that Native American Indian woman to dinner with us. To this day, Mary thinks he’s interested in Native American literature.
PHILIP: I’ve done some research! (Laughs) She was beautiful. Made Chicago almost bearable. Though I do remember being tired all the time. (Laughs)
JOE (To Henry): And Mary keeps saying he needs to be fixed up. That’s how little she understands men.
(They browse.)
Jesus Christ. (Picks up a book) This is the sort of thing that should be burned. (Opens it) I know for a fact that he spent just two years on Hawthorne at the Princeton Library. In and out of Hawthorne scholarship in two years! And he writes a book. (Beat) Junk. Nothing’s digested. This is the sort of thing that drives me crazy. (Beat. He puts the book back, continues to browse. Without looking up) I reviewed it for the Hawthorne Quarterly. You’d think I’d raped his daughter, the letter he wrote me. (Laughs)
PHILIP: I don’t see anything I want here. I’m going upstairs to drama.
JOE: I’ll stay down here with Henry.
HENRY: I was thinking of going—
JOE: Stay with me. Come on.
(Henry looks to Philip.)
I’d like the company.
(Beat.)
PHILIP: We’ll meet here in an hour and then go to Dillons.
JOE: Fine.
PHILIP (To Henry): OK?
HENRY: Sure. Yeah. I didn’t know we were—
PHILIP: Where’s Betty?
HENRY: She’s probably in fiction.
PHILIP: Good for her. That’s where I’d be if I only had the time. (As he leaves) She can come to Dillons as well of course.
(He goes. Short pause.)
JOE: I thought that went without saying. About Betty coming with us.
HENRY: It does. Of course it does.
JOE: Show me what you’re getting?
HENRY (Picking up the pile of paperbacks at his feet): I’ll probably put a few back.
JOE: Huh. (Beat) Nice. The Penguins though you probably can get half off. There are a million places that— Just down the street, at the Penguin shop, in the basement. They’re used, but . . .
HENRY: I wouldn’t care about that. I happen to even prefer used paperbacks. It’s sort of a thing of mine . . .
JOE: I’d look there first.
HENRY: Thanks. I’ll put these back.
JOE: Henry? (Beat) Also, on the corner—
HENRY: The used shop. I’ve been—
JOE: With the green front.
HENRY: Right. I know, when you go in—
JOE: Also in the cellar. There’s a whole room of Penguins.
HENRY: There are? (Beat) Terrific.
(Long pause. Joe slowly checks out Henry’s pile of books. Henry pretends to browse.)
JOE: Just wanted to save you some money.
HENRY: I appreciate it. I do. (Beat) So I guess now I can buy a few more books. (Laughs) It’s a disease, it really is, isn’t it? That’s what Betty calls it. She says that if I were given the choice between a last meal or a last book, I’d—
JOE (Not listening; looking through one of his books): I hadn’t realized . . .
HENRY: What? (Beat) Looks interesting, doesn’t it? I figure if I’m teaching Milton I might as well— You know.
JOE: That’s quite admirable.
(Pause.)
HENRY: I love teaching Milton actually.
JOE: That’s—lucky.
(Joe laughs, then Henry joins in, a little nervously. Short pause.)
(Going back to browsing) No luck with the job hunt, I suppose.
HENRY: You’d be the first to hear, Joe. After Betty. Of course.
JOE: Right, I didn’t think— (Stops himself) She’s incredibly well liked, you know. One hears that all the time.
(Henry nods.)
HENRY: Joe. I know it’d make life a lot easier for you, if I got—
JOE: That is so like you, Henry! (Beat) Here you are, with a problem, and what do you do? You worry about me? (Pats him on the back) You are something.
HENRY: It’s a tight market out there.
JOE: Tell me about it. The number of applications I get . . . You wouldn’t want to know. (Beat) But I’ve got to think, you—Henry, you!
(Pause. Joe pretends to browse again.)
HENRY: Joe, if I ask you something, you’ll be honest with me won’t you?
JOE: You have to ask that??
HENRY: I mean it. The truth, OK? (Beat) Not just for me, but for Betty and the kids. I just need to know.
JOE: Henry, what are you talking about?
HENRY: I know maybe I should have waited for you to bring it up. But it’s why you wanted to talk to me, isn’t it? Why you didn’t want me to go with—?
JOE: Henry, you’re not making any sense.
(Pause.)
HENRY: Joe, is there any chance of my keeping my job past June? (Beat) Look, I’ve accepted that tenure track is out of the question. I’ve put that out of my mind.
JOE: That—was a good thing to do. (Beat) I would not count on getting tenure track.
HENRY: No. (Laughs to himself) I don’t anymore. But still with one more year under my belt. One more year and, Joe, I’d be pretty damn attractive to a lot of colleges.
JOE: You’re attractive to a lot of colleges already, Henry. You just need to get a little lucky.
HENRY: I do have two interviews lined up.
JOE (Big smile): Now that’s good to hear! Great for you, Henry. I told everyone it would only be a matter of time.
HENRY: They’re both with high schools, Joe.
(Short pause.)
JOE: Oh shit.
HENRY: Is there any chance at all of my staying on for one more year? I’m not asking for a definite yes, just is there a chance? (Beat) You know I’d teach anything.
JOE: That’s never been an issue.
HENRY: If I had a whole year more. You see what I’m saying. There’s hardly anything out there now. Whereas next year, I know for sure of three positions, because of retirements . . .
(Joe is looking back at the table of books.)
I’m sorry, if this isn’t the right time. You want to look at—
JOE (Looking up): No. No.
(Short pause.)
HENRY: Have you already hired someone to replace me? (Beat) You have, haven’t you?
JOE: Who told you that? Henry, with you still thinking that you could be hired back?
HENRY: Then you haven’t?
JOE: We’ve interviewed. Of course.
HENRY: I’ve heard this. This does not surprise me. That’s OK.
JOE: I wouldn’t want to give you a lot of hope.
HENRY: I’m not asking for a lot. (Short pause) Joe. Look at me and tell me.
JOE (Looking at him): No one’s been hired yet. No.
&n
bsp; HENRY: OK. Good. (Breathes deeply) Excellent. Thank you. Just to have this talk has made this trip worthwhile. I’ll go find Betty and tell her we’re going to Dillons.
JOE: And put those Penguins back and save yourself some money.
HENRY: I will. I’ll do that. Thanks. Thanks a lot, Joe. (He turns to go and sees Betty who has just entered) There you are.
BETTY: The system they have in this store, it drives me crazy. First you have to find the book. Then you stand in one line to get a bill, you take the bill to the cash line, you pay the cash person, then you go back—
HENRY: Buy it at Dillons. We’re going there next.
BETTY: Are we?
JOE: Actually I’m set to go anytime. We just have to find Philip.
HENRY: I’ll find him. I have to put these books back anyway.
JOE: He’s up in drama.
HENRY: That’s what he said. (Turns to go, then back to Betty) You don’t mind? About Dillons?
BETTY: No.
HENRY: Good. Thanks. (Hurries off)
(Joe goes back to looking through the books. Pause.)
BETTY: You didn’t tell him, did you, Joe?
(Joe looks up.)
JOE: About?
BETTY: You’ve hired his replacement. (Beat) Frankie told me last night after all of you got back from the Baldwins’.
JOE: She did, did she.
BETTY: I asked her and she told me. I knew you’d have been talking about Henry’s situation. And Frankie had the guts to tell me the truth.
JOE: Betty, how do you know what I’ve told Henry and what I haven’t told—
BETTY: He won’t even go to his interviews, Joe! He’s dreaming. And what are we supposed to do? I don’t even know where we’ll live. Do you know how much this trip cost? Do you know why he insisted we come? (Beat) He was hoping if we hung around with—
JOE: I know!!! (Short pause) It’s going to break his heart to teach high school.
BETTY: True enough.
JOE (Turning to her): You want to break his heart?!!!
BETTY: That doesn’t make sense, Joe.
(Pause.)
JOE: I only want to be kind. I think there is a place for kindness in this world! A place for caring! For decency! (Short pause. He rubs his eyes, then leans on the table, sighs) Look. I talked to him, OK? Two minutes ago.
BETTY: You told him? You actually told him you’d hired—?
JOE: You saw how he looked. You can thank me for being so gentle with him.
BETTY: And he understood you? (Beat) And he understood you?!
JOE: I was as clear as I could be, Betty. I can’t do any more than that.
BETTY: I suppose not.
(Short pause.)
JOE: You know Henry. He dreams. He hears what he wants to hear sometimes.
BETTY: OK.
JOE: But if you’re saying what I should have done was shove the fact in his face, well—
BETTY: No, Joe, no.
JOE: I did the best I could. And it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do to a friend. And Henry is my friend, Betty.
(Beat. She nods.)
So it is done. It’s done. Now enough is enough. (He starts to browse again) I even saved him some money on some books.
BETTY: Thank you.
JOE (Picking up a book): Catch!
(He throws her the book. She catches it.)
I understand you like fiction. I hear that’s good. I don’t have much time for fiction myself . . . (Beat) Let me buy that for you. I think it’s only fifty pence.
SCENE 4
LYTTELTON BUFFET
Joe and Joanne Smith sit at a table; pastry and tea in front of them. Joanne has a small shoebox beside her.
JOANNE: No, I didn’t mean that! I love Stratford. I really do. And the Royal Shakespeare Company, it’s— It’s world famous, isn’t it? What more could you want? (Beat) It’s just—
JOE: Joanne, I know what you’re going to say.
JOANNE: I don’t think you can—
JOE: You’re going to say, the problem with Stratford is—Well, to be brutally blunt, it’s all the Americans. Right?
JOANNE: How did you—?
JOE: Look, I feel the same way. Every time I go there it drives me crazy.
JOANNE: You, too? Professor Taylor, I can’t tell you how—
JOE: I don’t know what it is about the place. Attracts them like flies.
JOANNE: London’s not nearly so bad.
JOE: They at least hesitate in London.
JOANNE: By and large they do.
JOE: But in Stratford! Last year I think six different people came up to me. I hadn’t said anything. I had even avoided eye contact. But if they sniff you out as an American—
JOANNE: Which in Stratford does not take a bloodhound.
JOE: I tried once wearing a nice tweed cap. I loved this cap. Some guy from Louisiana nearly knocks me down, he was so excited to tell me he’d bought the same sort of cap in Edinburgh. (Pronounces the “gh” as a strong “g”)
JOANNE: I know they come right at you.
JOE: Why do I care where they’re from, this is what I don’t understand. So they happen to be American and so am I. So big deal.
JOANNE: Right.
JOE: We have nothing in common. I don’t know— They make the whole thing feel cheap.
JOANNE: By “the whole thing” you mean being here.
JOE: Absolutely.
JOANNE: I get the same feeling.
JOE: For you it must be— Because you’re actually living here. You’re a resident and everything. (Beat) Then to be taken for a tourist.
JOANNE: It drives me crazy. So I hardly go to Stratford anymore. And never. Never in the summer.
JOE: That must be a nightmare. The summer.
JOANNE: Imagine your worst nightmare and then double it.
(Pause. They sip their tea.)
JOE (Taking a bite of a pastry): Delicious. Would you like to try—?
(She shakes her head no.)
JOANNE: I used to feel a little funny about it. They are after all from my country. But— (Beat) Then you hear them shout.
JOE (Eating): If they just acted like they were guests.
JOANNE: My husband doesn’t mind. He finds them sort of—
JOE: But he’s not American. So he’s not the one being embarrassed.
JOANNE: That’s true. Well put. (Beat) I’ll explain it that way to him. (Short pause) Sometimes when I’m in a shop I try not to say anything. I just point. Maybe they’ll think I’m English or something. Maybe that I don’t even speak English. That I’m foreign. So I point.
JOE: The accents some people have.
JOANNE: They don’t hear themselves. (Beat) Sometimes it’s funny, but sometimes— (Short pause) Anyway.
JOE: Right. Anyway.
(She starts to open the box.)
JOANNE: It’s good to talk to someone who— Well— You know.
JOE: I know. (Offering her the last bit of pastry) Are you sure?
JOANNE: No, thanks. (She starts to take out piles of tickets with rubber bands around them)
JOE (Eating the last bite): Incredible, the caliber of food sold in a theatre.
JOANNE: Here’s the last lot.
JOE (Eating): Everyone—by the way—has been raving about the seats we’ve had.
JOANNE: Good, I’m pleased to hear that. You never really know what you’ll get.
JOE: I don’t think we’ve had one bad seat.
JOANNE: Knock wood. So—here’s for this afternoon, the Lyttelton. It’s wonderful by the way. You’ll have a great time.
JOE: Terrific.
JOANNE (Handing over bunches of tickets): The Simon Gray is tonight. (Beat) It’s short. (Beat) Tomorrow’s Stratford. Friday’s Stratford again. Then the day off. That’s correct, isn’t it?
JOE (Going over his list that he has taken out): That’s correct.
JOANNE: Good. (Beat) Then there’s Saturday night back at the Barbican. I finally got Les Mis
on Monday.
JOE: Thank you. Mary and I saw it in New York. The kids’ll love it.
JOANNE: Tuesday, the Royal Court.
JOE: What’s there?
JOANNE: I forget. It’s in previews.
JOE: Oh really. That could be fun.
JOANNE: Something very Royal Courtish to be sure.
JOE: I know what you mean. (Laughs to himself)
JOANNE: Something at Wyndham’s on Wednesday afternoon, then a free evening and you’re gone on Thursday. So there you have the rest of it. (Pushes the tickets toward him) James, I’m afraid, is working late these days in the city. He sends his regrets about Wednesday night.
JOE (Looking at the tickets): I’m sorry to hear—
JOANNE: But if you wouldn’t mind my coming alone . . .
JOE (Looking up): Alone? Of course not! Why would we mind? (Beat) James must be doing very well.
JOANNE: He is. He is. (Beat) We’re going to buy a boat.
(Beat.)
JOE: We haven’t decided on the restaurant. But I’ll—
JOANNE: There’s no rush. I’m home most nights. (Beat) And there’s a machine.
JOE: I’ll call. When we’ve decided.
JOANNE: Good.
(Philip has entered with a tray.)
PHILIP: Joe, would you excuse me for a second? (To Joanne) Sorry to interrupt.
JOE: Philip, you haven’t met Joanne Smith.
PHILIP: I don’t believe I—
JOE: Joanne, Philip Brown.
JOANNE: How do you do?
PHILIP: How do you do? (To Joe) I don’t mean to—
JOE: Joanne’s the one who bought us the theatre tickets.
PHILIP: Oh right! Joe’s former student. Wonderful seats. Every show’s been great.
JOE (To Joanne): See what I mean? (To Philip) Come and sit with us.
PHILIP: Frankie’s in line—
JOE: She can join us, too. Sit down. Come on, there’s room.
(Philip puts his tray down.)
And now—tell us what’s the news on the Rialto? (Laughs. No one else does)
PHILIP: Donna Silliman’s still missing.
JOE (Looking at his watch): She’s going to miss another play. What do some of these kids think they’re here for?!
JOANNE: What’s this?—
PHILIP: One of our students, she wasn’t in her room last night, and— Well, you heard.
JOE: I just do not understand this kind of thing!
JOANNE: But I guess it’s got to happen all the time.
PHILIP: Every year. Something happens every year.
Goodnight Children Everywhere and Other Plays Page 4