ESTHER, still not focused on Walter, sizing him up: How do you come to—?
WALTER: I operated on this big textile guy and he keeps sending me things. He sent me this coat, in fact.
ESTHER: I was noticing it. That’s gorgeous material.
WALTER: Isn’t it? Two gallstones.
ESTHER, her impression lingering for the instant: How’s Dorothy?—Did I hear you saying you were—?
WALTER, very seriously: We’re divorced, ya. Last winter.
ESTHER: I’m sorry to hear that.
WALTER: It was coming a long time. We’re both much better off—we’re almost friendly now. He laughs.
ESTHER: Oh, stop that, you dog.
WALTER, with naïve excitement: It’s true!
ESTHER: Look, I’m for the woman, so don’t hand me that. To Victor—seeing the money in his hand: Have you settled everything?
VICTOR: Just about, I guess.
WALTER: I was just telling Victor—to Victor: when we split things up I—to Solomon: you ever hear of Spitzer and Fox?
SOLOMON: Thirty years I know Spitzer and Fox. Bert Fox worked for me maybe ten, twelve years.
WALTER: They did my appraisal.
SOLOMON: They’re good boys. Spitzer is not as good as Fox, but between the two you’re in good hands.
WALTER: Yes. That’s why I—
SOLOMON: Spitzer is vice president of the Appraisers’ Association.
WALTER: I see. The point I’m making—
SOLOMON: I used to be president.
WALTER: Really.
SOLOMON: Oh yes. I made it all ethical.
WALTER, trying to keep a straight face—and Victor as well: Did you?
Victor suddenly bursts out laughing, which sets off Walter and Esther, and a warmth springs up among them.
SOLOMON, smiling, but insistent: What’s so funny? Listen, before me was a jungle—you wouldn’t laugh so much. I put in all the rates, what we charge, you know—I made it a profession, like doctors, lawyers—used to be it was a regular snakepit. But today, you got nothing to worry—all the members are hundred per cent ethical.
WALTER: Well, that was a good deed, Mr. Solomon—but I think you can do a little better on this furniture.
ESTHER, to Victor, who has money in his hand: How much has he offered?
VICTOR, embarrassed, but braving it quite well: Eleven hundred.
ESTHER, distressed; with a transcendent protest: Oh, I think that’s . . . isn’t that very low? She looks to Walter’s confirmation.
WALTER, familiarly: Come on, Solomon. He’s been risking his life for you every day; be generous—
SOLOMON, to Esther: That’s a real brother! Wonderful. To Walter: But you can call anybody you like—Spitzer and Fox, Joe Brody, Paul Cavallo, Morris White—I know them all and I know what they’ll tell you.
VICTOR, striving to retain some assurance; to Esther: See, the point he was making about it—
SOLOMON, to Esther, raising his finger: Listen to him because he—
VICTOR, to Solomon: Hold it one second, will you? To Esther and Walter: Not that I’m saying it’s true, but he claims a lot of it is too big to get into the new apartments.
ESTHER, half-laughing: You believe that?
WALTER: I don’t know, Esther, Spitzer and Fox said the same thing.
ESTHER: Walter, the city is full of big, old apartments!
SOLOMON: Darling, why don’t you leave it to the boys?
ESTHER, suppressing an outburst: I wish you wouldn’t order me around, Mr. Solomon! To Walter, protesting: Those two bureaus alone are worth a couple of hundred dollars!
WALTER, delicately: Maybe I oughtn’t interfere—
ESTHER: Why? Of Solomon: Don’t let him bulldoze you—
SOLOMON: My dear girl, you’re talking without a basis—
ESTHER, slashing: I don’t like this kind of dealing, Mr. Solomon! I just don’t like it! She is near tears. A pause. She turns back to Walter: This money is very important to us, Walter.
WALTER, chastised: Yes. I . . . I’m sorry, Esther. He looks about. Well . . . if it was mine—
ESTHER: Why? It’s yours as much as Victor’s.
WALTER: Oh no, dear—I wouldn’t take anything from this.
Pause.
VICTOR: No, Walter, you get half.
WALTER: I wouldn’t think of it, kid. I came by to say hello, that’s all.
Pause.
ESTHER—she is very moved: That’s terrific, Walter. It’s . . . Really, I . . .
VICTOR: Well, we’ll talk about it.
WALTER: No-no, Vic, you’ve earned it. It’s yours.
VICTOR, rejecting the implication: Why have I earned it? You take your share.
WALTER: Why don’t we discuss it later? To Solomon: In my opinion—
SOLOMON, to Victor: So now you don’t even have to split. To Victor and Walter: You’re lucky they’re tearing the building down—you got together, finally.
WALTER: I would have said a minimum of three thousand dollars.
ESTHER: That’s exactly what I had in mind! To Solomon: I was going to say thirty-five hundred dollars.
WALTER, to Victor; tactfully: In that neighborhood.
Silence. Solomon sits there holding back comment, not looking at Victor, blinking with protest. Victor thinks for a moment; then turns to Solomon, and there is a wide discouragement in his voice.
VICTOR: Well? What do you say?
SOLOMON, spreading out his hands helplessly, outraged: What can I say? It’s ridiculous. Why does he give you three thousand? What’s the matter with five thousand, ten thousand?
WALTER, to Victor, without criticism: You should’ve gotten a couple of other estimates, you see, that’s always the—
VICTOR: I’ve been calling you all week for just that reason, Walter, and you never came to the phone.
WALTER, blushing: Why would that stop you from—?
VICTOR: I didn’t think I had the right to do it alone—the nurse gave you my messages, didn’t she?
WALTER: I’ve been terribly tied up—and I had no intention of taking anything for myself, so I assumed—
VICTOR: But how was I supposed to know that?
WALTER, with open self-reproach: Yes. Well, I . . . I beg your pardon. He decides to stop there.
SOLOMON: Excuse me, Doctor, but I can’t understand you; first it’s a lot of junk—
ESTHER: Nobody called it a lot of junk!
SOLOMON: He called it a lot of junk, Esther, when he walked in here.
Esther turns to Walter, puzzled and angry.
WALTER, reacting to her look; to Solomon: Now just a minute—
SOLOMON: No, please. Indicating Victor: This is a factual man, so let’s be factual.
ESTHER: Well, that’s an awfully strange thing to say, Walter.
WALTER, intimately: I didn’t mean it in that sense, Esther—
SOLOMON: Doctor, please. You said junk.
WALTER, sharply—and there is an over-meaning of much greater anger in his tone: I didn’t mean it in that sense, Mr. Solomon! He controls himself—and, half to Esther: When you’ve been brought up with things, you tend to be sick of them. . . . To Esther: That’s all I meant.
SOLOMON: My dear man, if it was Louis Seize, Biedermeier, something like that, you wouldn’t get sick.
WALTER, pointing to a piece, and weakened by knowing he is exaggerating: Well, there happens to be a piece right over there in Biedermeier style!
SOLOMON: Biedermeier “style”! He picks up his hat. I got a hat it’s in Borsalino style but it’s not a Borsalino. To Victor: I mean he don’t have to charge me to make an impression.
WALTER, striving for an air of amusement: Now what’s that supposed to mean?
VICTOR, with a refusal to
dump Solomon: Well, what basis do you go on, Walter?
WALTER, reddening but smiling: I don’t know . . . it’s a feeling, that’s all.
ESTHER—there is ridicule: Well, on what basis do you take eleven hundred, dear?
VICTOR, angered; his manly leadership is suddenly in front: I simply felt it was probably more or less right!
ESTHER, as a refrain: Oh God, here we go again. All right, throw it away—
SOLOMON, indicating Victor: Please, Esther, he’s not throwing nothing away. This man is no fool! To Walter as well: Excuse me, but this is not right to do to him!
WALTER, bridling, but retaining his smile: You going to teach me what’s right now?
ESTHER, to Victor, expanding Walter’s protest: Really! I mean.
VICTOR—obeying her protest for want of a certainty of his own, he touches Solomon’s shoulder: Mr. Solomon . . . why don’t you sit down in the bedroom for a few minutes and let us talk?
SOLOMON: Certainly, whatever you say. He gets up. Only please, you made a very nice deal, you got no right to be ashamed. . . . To Esther: Excuse me, I don’t want to be personal.
ESTHER—laughs angrily: He’s fantastic!
VICTOR, trying to get him moving again: Whyn’t you go inside?
SOLOMON: I’m going; I only want you to understand, Victor, that if it was a different kind of man—turning to Esther: I would say to you that he’s got the money in his hand, so the deal is concluded.
WALTER: He can’t conclude any deal without me, Solomon, I’m half owner here.
SOLOMON, to Victor: You see? What did I ask you the first thing I walked in here? “Who is the owner?”
WALTER: Why do you confuse everything? I’m not making any claim, I merely—
SOLOMON: Then how do you come to interfere? He’s got the money; I know the law!
WALTER, angering: Now you stop being foolish! Just stop it! I’ve got the best lawyers in New York, so go inside and sit down.
VICTOR, as he turns back to escort Solomon: Take it easy, Walter, come on, cut it out.
ESTHER, striving to keep a light, amused tone: Why? He’s perfectly right.
VICTOR, with a hard glance at her, moving upstage with Solomon: Here, you better hold onto this money.
SOLOMON: No, that’s yours; you hold . . .
He sways. Victor grasps his arm. Walter gets up.
WALTER: You all right?
SOLOMON—dizzy, he grasps his head: Yes, yes, I’m . . .
WALTER, coming to him: Let me look at you. He takes Solomon’s wrists, looks into his face.
SOLOMON: I’m only a little tired, I didn’t take my nap today.
WALTER: Come in here, lie down for a moment. He starts Solomon toward the bedroom.
SOLOMON: Don’t worry about me, I’m . . . He halts and points back at his portfolio, leaning on a chest. Please, Doctor, if you wouldn’t mind—I got a Hershey’s in there.
Walter hesitates to do his errand.
Helps me.
Walter unwillingly goes to the portfolio and reaches into it.
I’m a very healthy person, but a nap, you see, I have to have a . . .
Walter takes out an orange.
Not the orange—on the bottom is a Hershey’s.
Walter takes out a Hershey bar.
That’s a boy.
WALTER—returns to him and helps him to the bedroom: All right, come on . . . easy does it . . .
SOLOMON, as he goes into the bedroom: I’m all right, don’t worry. You’re very nice people.
Solomon and Walter exit into the bedroom. Victor glances at the money in his hand, then puts it on a table, setting the foil on it.
ESTHER: Why are you being so apologetic?
VICTOR: About what?
ESTHER: That old man. Was that his first offer?
VICTOR: Why do you believe Walter? He was obviously pulling a number out of a hat.
ESTHER: Well, I agree with him. Did you try to get him to go higher?
VICTOR: I don’t know how to bargain and I’m not going to start now.
ESTHER: I wish you wouldn’t be above everything, Victor, we’re not twenty years old. We need this money.
He is silent.
You hear me?
VICTOR: I’ve made a deal, and that’s it. You know, you take a tone sometimes—like I’m some kind of an incompetent.
ESTHER—gets up, moves restlessly: Well anyway, you’ll get the whole amount.—God, he’s certainly changed. It’s amazing.
VICTOR, without assent: Seems so, ya.
ESTHER, wanting him to join her: He’s so human! And he laughs!
VICTOR: I’ve seen him laugh.
ESTHER, with a grin of trepidation: Am I hearing something or is that my imagination?
VICTOR: I want to think about it.
ESTHER, quietly: You’re not taking his share?
VICTOR: I said I would like to think . . .
Assuming he will refuse Walter’s share, she really doesn’t know what to do or where to move, so she goes for her purse with a quick stride.
VICTOR, getting up: Where you going?
ESTHER, turning back on him: I want to know. Are you or aren’t you taking his share?
VICTOR: Esther, I’ve been calling him all week; doesn’t even bother to come to the phone, walks in here and smiles and I’m supposed to fall into his arms? I can’t behave as though nothing ever happened, and you’re not going to either! Now just take it easy, we’re not dying of hunger.
ESTHER: I don’t understand what you think you’re upholding!
VICTOR, outraged: Where have you been?!
ESTHER: But he’s doing exactly what you thought he should do! What do you want?
VICTOR: Certain things have happened, haven’t they? I can’t turn around this fast, kid. He’s only been here ten minutes, I’ve got twenty-eight years to shake off my back. . . . Now sit down, I want you here. He sits.
She remains standing, uncertain of what to do.
Please. You can wait a few minutes for your drink.
ESTHER, in despair: Vic, it’s all blowing away.
VICTOR, to diminish the entire prize: Half of eleven hundred dollars is five-fifty, dear.
ESTHER: I’m not talking about money.
Voices are heard from the bedroom.
He’s obviously making a gesture, why can’t you open yourself a little? She lays her head back. My mother was right—I can never believe anything I see. But I’m going to. That’s all I’m going to do. What I see.
A chair scrapes in the bedroom.
VICTOR: Wipe your cheek, will you?
Walter enters from the bedroom.
How is he?
WALTER: I think he’ll be all right. Warmly: God, what a pirate! He sits. He’s eighty-nine!
ESTHER: I don’t believe it!
VICTOR: He is. He showed me his—
WALTER, laughing: Oh, he show you that too?
VICTOR, smiling: Ya, the British Navy.
ESTHER: He was in the British Navy?
VICTOR, building on Walter’s support: He’s got a discharge. He’s not altogether phony.
WALTER: I wouldn’t go that far. A guy that age, though, still driving like that . . . As though admitting Victor was not foolish: There is something wonderful about it.
VICTOR, understating: I think so.
ESTHER: What do you think we ought to do, Walter?
WALTER—slight pause. He is trying to modify what he believes is his overpowering force so as not to appear to be taking over. He is faintly smiling toward Victor: There is a way to get a good deal more out of it. I suppose you know that, though.
VICTOR: Look, I’m not married to this guy. If you want to call another dealer we can compare.
WALTER: You d
on’t have to do that; he’s a registered appraiser.—You see, instead of selling it, you could make it a charitable contribution.
VICTOR: I don’t understand.
WALTER: It’s perfectly simple. He puts a value on it—let’s say twenty-five thousand dollars, and—
ESTHER, fascinated with a laugh: Are you kidding?
WALTER: It’s done all the time. It’s a dream world but it’s legal. He estimates its highest retail value, which could be put at some such figure. Then I donate it to the Salvation Army. I’d have to take ownership, you see, because my tax rate is much higher than yours so it would make more sense if I took the deduction. I pay around fifty per cent tax, so if I make a twenty-five-thousand-dollar contribution I’d be saving around twelve thousand in taxes. Which we could split however you wanted to. Let’s say we split it in half, I’d give you six thousand dollars. A pause. It’s really the only sensible way to do it, Vic.
ESTHER—glances at Victor, but he remains silent: Would it be costing you anything?
WALTER: On the contrary—it’s found money to me. To Victor: I mentioned it to him just now.
VICTOR, as though this had been the question: What’d he say?
WALTER: It’s up to you. We’d pay him an appraisal fee—fifty, sixty bucks.
VICTOR: Is he willing to do that?
WALTER: Well, of course he’d rather buy it outright, but what the hell—
ESTHER: Well, that’s not his decision, is it?
VICTOR: No . . . it’s just that I feel I did come to an agreement with him and I—
WALTER: Personally, I wouldn’t let that bother me. He’d be making fifty bucks for filling out a piece of paper.
ESTHER: That’s not bad for an afternoon.
Pause.
VICTOR: I’d like to think about it.
ESTHER: There’s not much time, though, if you want to deal with him.
VICTOR, cornered: I’d like a few minutes, that’s all.
WALTER, to Esther: Sure . . . let him think it over. To Victor: It’s perfectly legal, if that’s what’s bothering you. I almost did it with my stuff but I finally decided to keep it. He laughs. In fact, my own apartment is so loaded up it doesn’t look too different from this.
The Penguin Arthur Miller Page 76