ALFRED (Sipping his drink): And what is your opinion?
GEMMA: We’ve had this conversation before. (To Alfred) You know what Paul does—
PAUL (Over this): Depends on the script, of course.
ALFRED: I would have thought they’d all be rubbish.
PAUL: Some are and some—
ALFRED (Interrupting): I can understand liking the weather. Even some of the people. But even you can’t keep a straight face when you talk about their movies—
PAUL (Over this): My face is completely straight!
SOPHIE: It is!
ALFRED: My mind would go to mush if I had to—!
SOPHIE: It’s a good job! A way to learn the business!
PAUL (Over this): I’m learning what people want!
ALFRED (Yelling back): They don’t know what people want!
PAUL: And in England they do?! (Beat) In London today there aren’t three people who know how to make a successful movie. That’s my opinion.
(Short pause. No one knows what to say.)
SOPHIE: And if Paul hadn’t moved to L.A., we never would have met.
(Short pause, as Paul’s family bites their tongues.)
ELIZABETH: Uncle Alfred, you’re here. I wouldn’t criticize.
ALFRED: They pay me twice what I got at Hull. Full stop. I didn’t come for the culture.
TOM (To Alice, referring to Alfred): What does he do?—
ALICE: He teaches English. (Short pause. To everyone) Tom teaches— acting.
(Everyone politely nods or mumbles, “Oh really.”)
(To Paul) So he’s in the performing arts as well.
TOM: Not in L.A. In New York.
PAUL: For theatre?
TOM: Some.
PAUL: I’d have thought you couldn’t make a living from the theatre—
TOM: Students of mine—they do television, films, plays. I mostly do accents. (Beat) For Americans trying to be— (Shrugs) English? As well as the other way around.
ELIZABETH: There’s a lot of need for—?
TOM: I survive. (Beat) I do the best I can. It’s a living. (To Paul) I like Los Angeles, too.
GEMMA: For me—New Mexico is paradise. Isn’t it, Uncle Alfred? I sit on my porch, brush in hand, and paint and before me— I don’t even have to put on shoes! Before me is a landscape that is not only the most extraordinary I’ve ever seen, but it also changes. Totally, completely remakes itself, I don’t know, five hundred times a day! Because of the light, the clouds, even the density of the air. I don’t mean just shadows, I mean one minute it’s yellow and the next it’s blue! (Smiles and shakes her head) It’s so different from England. Or the Alps or Provence where everything’s fixed. Some mornings what gets me out of bed is the thought that if I weren’t out there to paint it all, it’d be lost for good.
(Beat.)
ALFRED (To Tom): She came to visit and she stayed. Every day, I blame myself.
GEMMA: An amazingly beautiful place. Even you say that sometimes. I can’t imagine living anywhere else now.
ALICE (To Tom): Gemma’s a painter.
TOM: I’d guessed that.
GEMMA: I’ve wondered what Turner would have made of it. Where instead of just a sea or sky or horizon, there was a landscape that was constantly changing, that was all—movement. (Beat. Smiles) I try. But I’m no Turner, am I?
(She turns to Elizabeth, who says nothing.)
Elizabeth’s bought four of my paintings. She said she bought them as an investment, but I think she just wanted to give me some money.
(She laughs to herself; Elizabeth does not correct her. No one is really eating the Chinese food, which is awful; they sort of move it around their plates.)
PAUL: Could you pass me the seltzer?
ALICE (At the same time): New England’s very beautiful as well.
SOPHIE: The drive up—
PAUL: I haven’t seen autumn for years.
GEMMA (To Alice): There must be— You must have all sorts of special places where you go. Natural—I don’t know, you tell me.
ALICE: There’s a waterfall that’s supposed to be— I haven’t seen it. I haven’t actually driven around very much. Mostly it’s just been to and from the city.
PAUL: It’s a nice drive.
ALICE: I’ve wanted to see more, but . . .
(Beat)
TOM (To Alice): How long have you lived here? Maybe you told me . . .
ALICE: Harry’s had the place for—
ALFRED: Years and years.
ELIZABETH (At the same time): Fifteen, twenty years.
ALICE: I moved in two years ago, next month. The six months before that, I came up every weekend. (Beat. Smiles) First it was: “Come on, Alice, stay over Sunday night, take the early bus back.” Then I was taking Fridays off. Then I quit my job. Sublet my apartment—then sold it.
(Silence. No one has anything to say.)
ELIZABETH (Finally): Two years? It was that long ago? I hadn’t even heard about you until . . . (To her siblings) When did Father tell about Alice?
(No response.)
GEMMA (To Tom): And New York is nice as well.
TOM (To Elizabeth): You’re in the city—
ELIZABETH: East 81st.
TOM: I’m on the West Side. At 103rd.
ELIZABETH: It’s gotten better there.
TOM: It has.
ELIZABETH: I love New York. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. Nothing closes. You can stay out all night.
(Sophie sighs, wipes her forehead with her napkin.)
PAUL: What is it?
SOPHIE: I’m fine, I just—
PAUL: She’s sweating.
GEMMA: Maybe the food, it does taste sort of—
ELIZABETH: I stopped eating it—
PAUL: She’s hot.
SOPHIE: I’ll be OK. It feels stuffy in here.
ELIZABETH: It would have been a lot stuffier in the dining room.
ALICE: The stove is on. We can turn that off; I don’t think we need to keep reheating the—
SOPHIE (Standing): Maybe I’m just tired. Would it be impolite if I— Maybe if I just lie down.
(Everyone adds: “Of course.” “Please.” “Get some rest.” “Relax.”)
GEMMA (Over this): It’s been an exhausting day for all of us.
SOPHIE: I’ll come back down later. Maybe if I read. (Touches her head) There’s aspirin or something in the bathroom?
(Alice nods. Sophie turns to go, then turns back:)
Paul, can you help me look for the aspirin?
PAUL (Standing): I’m sure it’s in the—
SOPHIE: Paul. Help me look.
(She goes. Paul hesitates, then hurries after her. Short pause.)
ELIZABETH: The dining room is stuffier. She always seems sick, doesn’t she?
GEMMA: I hadn’t noticed. Paul’s never said—
ELIZABETH: Every time we’re together, she’s sick. (To Tom) She’s nine years older than Paul. And I say that to flatter her—she looks great. When she’s not sick. (Beat) She’s even older than Gemma.
ALICE: Is anyone going to eat any more? . . .
(No response.)
ALFRED: How long has she been away from France? I don’t think I know that.
ELIZABETH: Sophie hasn’t lived anywhere but West Hollywood since she was eight. She puts that accent on.
TOM: It’s a good accent.
ELIZABETH: Remember her mother? We met her at their wedding last December—she now sounds like she comes from Texas.
ALFRED: Isn’t that where she lives?—
ELIZABETH: Sophie’s no more French any more than I am!
ALICE: Maybe she puts the accent on to please Paul.
(Beat.)
ELIZABETH: How do you mean?
(Alice says nothing; Elizabeth considers this, then:)
I’ll bet you’re right. (Laughs at the thought)
ALFRED: She’s a nice girl.
TOM (Changing the subject): Funny, isn’t it, all of us—we’re living all over Ame
rica. What does that say?
ALFRED: What?
TOM: It’s strange. How did it happen? How did you—?
ELIZABETH: I think we all came for different reasons.
ALFRED: Harry was first. He led us all here. Blame him! (Laughs)
ELIZABETH (Continuing): You can’t generalize, I think. For me. London had become so . . . (Makes a face)
GEMMA (Over this): I followed Alfred. He kept sending postcards of the desert.
ALICE (Half over this): I was brought over years ago by my publishing company.
(This question has definitely animated the table—they talk almost at the same time.)
ALFRED (Continuing): Harry left about—twenty years ago was it?
GEMMA: We were kids.
ELIZABETH: I was seventeen. Exactly.
GEMMA (To Tom): What about you? You asked the question.
TOM: I was offered a job. As a stage manager. I started as a stage manager. I guess you’re right, we shouldn’t generalize.
ALICE (Over this): And as for why Harry—Harry’s wife, right? She’d just died. Their mother.
(Everyone is now listening to this.)
You children were all in schools. He wanted to . . . (Shrugs) Get away from some memories, I suppose. Clear his head. That’s how I’ve always . . . (Beat) He didn’t plan on staying. I don’t know how many times he told me that.
ALFRED: His wife died? Twenty years ago?
ALICE: You must have known that.
(Alfred looks at his nieces.)
He came for—?! I don’t know. A semester. That’s all he said he was hired for. Then one thing led to another. And he stayed. (Beat) And one by one—you came. (Beat) What’s wrong?
ELIZABETH: Mother died—two months ago.
(Pause.)
ALICE: What do you mean?
ELIZABETH: We were all at the funeral. Father was there. (Beat) He said you’d felt it wasn’t appropriate for you to come. We understood, didn’t we?
(She looks to Gemma who nods.)
ALICE: Two months ago? Where was the—?
GEMMA: Brighton. Where Mother lived.
ALICE: Harry was in England two months ago?? (Then suddenly) Oh that’s right. Now I remember. Yes, I couldn’t come. I hope Harry sent my condolences. I think I sent flowers.
(Pause. Paul enters.)
PAUL: A delicate flower! That is what I tell her she is. Sorry. Sophie’ll be fine; she’s tucked in, reading a magazine. (Noticing the faces) What’s . . .?
ALFRED: We were telling Tom how Harry came to the States.
PAUL: You’ve told him that Mother just threw him out?
ALICE: Did she?
PAUL: She’d had enough of him. She used to say that marrying Father was like buying a boat; your happiest times are when you get it, and when you get rid of it.
(He laughs, no one else does.)
ALICE: What exactly had your father done for your mother to throw him out?
(Beat.)
ELIZABETH (After checking with her siblings): She never said. I don’t think we ever asked.
GEMMA: There’s a lot we don’t know. Why didn’t they ever divorce— (She is about to continue a list)
ALICE (Interrupting): Harry was still married to your mother?
GEMMA: Didn’t you know that?
(Pause.)
TOM (To Paul): So your wife is just tired.
ELIZABETH: She looked tired.
TOM: I gather you’ve only been married—
PAUL: Not even a year. It’s made a big difference in my life.
TOM: Something like—
ALICE (Standing): Excuse me. (Takes the bottle of wine and fills up Alfred’s glass) I should get more.
TOM: I can go if—
ALICE: I know where Harry’s best stuff is hidden. (Goes)
(Beat.)
ELIZABETH: Father never told her he was still married.
GEMMA (Picking up plates): Is anyone still eating?
TOM (Taking a last bite): I’ve had a lot worse in New York.
ELIZABETH: Father didn’t tell her. What does that say?
ALFRED: Harry once talked to me—about Alice.
(Beat.)
ELIZABETH: And . . .?
ALFRED: He said he’d met this woman. Alice. And, I think he said, that their relationship was—the word he used was—“comfortable.” (Looks to Tom)
TOM: She’s a nice woman. I’m not going to repeat anything that could hurt her.
ELIZABETH: “Comfortable.” (Beat) What are we going to do about this cremating idea? Alice said she thought that’s what Harry would have—
PAUL: Alice said.
(Beat.)
GEMMA: Do we know what Father—
PAUL: Mother was buried.
GEMMA: And he certainly would not have wanted to be buried with—
PAUL: Do we know that for sure?!!
(Beat. Phone rings. In the middle of the second ring, it stops. Someone has picked it up.)
I’m still hungry. Maybe there’s some peanut butter or something.
ELIZABETH: What are we going to do? Don’t you think it’s a mistake? I think we tell Alice that we want our father buried. If she gives us any flack we tell her that’s what he’d told us he wanted.
GEMMA: We should tell her now.
PAUL: What about the service tomorrow in the garden—
ELIZABETH: We’ll make it a memorial. People can still come, whatever. (Beat) Is it agreed?
(The others nod.)
Then we’ll tell her.
ALFRED (Turning to Tom): How well did you know my brother?
TOM: I didn’t know him at—
ALFRED: I think that’s how most of his friends felt. Let me tell you the truth. Harry wasn’t a very nice man. He wasn’t very nice to me and I wasn’t alone. And I got a job at the University of New Mexico and he was working in a bloody community college! And he said this country would eat me alive! (Laughs) You know what they say about twins? That there’s always a good one and a bad one.
TOM: I can’t believe that’s—
ALFRED: Guess which he was. (Beat) Go ahead and guess.
(Beat.)
TOM: The bad one?
ALFRED: You knew him well! Still, I think his friends—like yourself—were too hard on him. He used to say that to me. He had a lot of sides to him—Harry. Be fair, Tom. Don’t be too quick to judge.
TOM (Confused): I wasn’t—
ALFRED: Give the man the benefit of the doubt, for Christ sake.
(Alice enters with a bottle of wine. The others look to Elizabeth to begin a conversation, but before she can begin:)
ALICE (Opening the wine): That was the funeral home—we can pick up the ashes anytime now.
(She pours herself a glass of wine, sits down and opens the photograph album. No one says anything for a moment, then, holding up the album:)
Our photo album. (Pointing to a picture) Bermuda. (To Elizabeth) Harry bought me the bathing suit.
(Pause. She continues to look. No one knows what to say, when finally:)
TOM (To Paul): Read any good film scripts lately?
ALFRED (Almost chokes on his wine, laughing): Right!
PAUL: The funny thing about living in America as a foreigner is the way you see other foreigners act.
GEMMA (Trying to stop him): Paul.
PAUL: They love to criticize. Everything’s—what? Rubbish, Uncle Alfred? Some things are and some things aren’t. That’s how I see things, but . . . I had a friend from London visiting—to him everything was either stupid or plastic or barbaric. Then you couldn’t get him out of the damn sun. At night you couldn’t get him away from the damn TV. (Sips his water) But I know why this is. I’ve thought about this a lot. It’s all so—threatening. It’s too much for some people to handle. The size of everything. The importance of everything. So they’re actually being defensive. They’re scared. (Beat) I try to avoid people from home now. They’re so predictable. (To Tom) To answer your question: I have read a couple
of nice scripts this week. We’ll see. I’ve been reading long enough to know that you can never know. You do your best. And try to have an impact where you can. (Sips his water) The other day, I had a thought. You get these kinds of thoughts reading scripts. Let’s say there are maybe ten thousand film scripts in circulation in L.A. on any given day.
ELIZABETH: That many—?
PAUL: I think I’m being conservative. And each script will have at least twenty copies. Probably more, but let’s say twenty. And each script—the rule is about a hundred and ten pages. That’s— I did the maths before, something like twenty-two million pages of film script just—on any given day. (Beat) Now if each writer were to say just decrease the margins— both left and right—by say three spaces. Three spaces—no more. It would mean each script would be about five pages shorter—or a total savings of about one million pages, which I’m told roughly equals two hundred trees. (Short pause) I wrote a memo. (Shrugs) Who knows?
(Pause.)
ALICE: I did—know about Harry being married. (Short pause. Goes back to looking at the album)
ALFRED (Looking at Alice, then): He talked to me about you, Alice. Harry.
(Alice looks up.)
He said the nicest things. He told me how much he loved you. This new “gal” he called you. He said—you were everything to him.
(Alice nods and goes back to the album.)
ELIZABETH (To Paul): There are so many Brits in publishing here. I have friends—Americans who say the only way to advance is to go first to England—or fake a British accent. (Laughs)
GEMMA (To Tom): Work for you!
(Laughter.)
TOM (Over this): So that’s why they take my classes!
(More laugher. Short pause.)
GEMMA: All my English friends—such as they are in New Mexico—make fun. It’s an easy place to make fun. On the one hand I suppose Paul is right—they’re scared. We are. But on the other, you can’t help yourself—there’s so much that’s crazy.
ELIZABETH: Father used to make fun—lest we forget.
PAUL: Father was scared, too.
GEMMA: He didn’t make fun, he hated. The last time I called him—he just started ranting.
PAUL: About?
GEMMA: He hated this country and everything it tries to be. Or doesn’t try to be.
PAUL: He loved looking down his nose—
ELIZABETH: I never took him seriously when he talked like that. It was just talk. I laughed at him, Paul.
PAUL: You encouraged him.
ELIZABETH: He made me laugh, as I’ve just said. And he wasn’t scared, Paul—he was angry.
Goodnight Children Everywhere and Other Plays Page 21