BESSIE: Oh, Daddy, that’s so lovely!—you’re just marvelous! She weeps.
LYMAN: I worship this woman, Bessie! To Theo: How the hell are we still together? To Bessie: —Do you realize how she must love me to stand for my character?
THEO: Oh, this is what I always saw happening someday!—a sophisticated laugh—not with a lion, of course, but exactly this sudden flash of light . . . !
LYMAN: The whole future is clear to me now! We are going to march happily into our late middle age, proudly, heads up! I’m going to build a totally selfish little cottage in the Caribbean and we’ll fill it up with all the thick English novels we never got to finish . . . plus Proust!—and I’ll buy two mopeds with little baskets on the handlebars for the shopping trips . . .
THEO: I knew it, I knew it!
LYMAN: . . . And I’ll spend every day with you—except maybe a week or so a month in the Elmira office!
BESSIE: How fantastic, Mother!
THEO: Thank you, lion! Thank you, Africa! Turning to him. Lyman?
LYMAN, already mentally departing the scene: . . . Huh? Yes!
THEO: I am all new!
She throws her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He looks front with an expression of deepening agony.
BESSIE: This has been the most fantastic two weeks of my life! I love you, Daddy!
She rushes to him and with one arm he embraces her, the other around Theo. Tears are starting in his eyes.
Are you weeping?
LYMAN: Just amazement, honey . . . at my luck, I guess. Come, we’d better go back.
Somberly he turns them upstage; lights are changing, growing dimmer, and they walk into the darkness while he remains behind. Dim light reveals the Nurse sitting near the bed.
NURSE: The only thing I don’t understand is why you married that woman, a smart man like you.
Lyman stares ahead as Leah appears, isolated in light; she is in her fur coat, exactly as in Act One when she was about to go for an abortion. The Nurse remains in periphery, immobile.
LEAH: Yes, I suppose it could wait a week or so, but . . . really, Lyman, you know you’re never going to leave her.
LYMAN: You cancel the operation, okay? And I’m telling her tomorrow.
LEAH: You’re telling her what?
LYMAN, almost holding his breath: I will not rationalize you away. I have one life! I’m going to ask her for a divorce.
LEAH: My God, Lyman! —But listen, I know your attachment to her . . .
LYMAN, kisses her hand: Please keep this baby. Will you? And stay home and cross your legs, you hear?
LEAH: This is serious?
LYMAN: This is serious. I’m asking her for a divorce.
LEAH: Suddenly . . . why am I not sure I want to be a mother!—Do I, do you think?
LYMAN: Yes you do, we think!
Kisses her. They laugh together. He turns to leave; she grasps his hands and presses them together between hers in a prayerful gesture; and facing heaven . . .
LEAH: Please! Some good luck! To Lyman directly: Why is everything so dangerous! She gives him a violent kiss. She exits as Theo appears walking toward him; she is hiding something behind her back and smiling lovingly. Lyman looks solemn, prepared for the showdown.
LYMAN: Theo, dear . . . There’s something I have to tell you . . .
THEO, holding out a cashmere sweater: Happy birthday!
LYMAN, startled: Hah? But it’s not July, is it!
THEO: But it was so sinfully expensive I needed an excuse. Putting him into the sweater. Here . . . straighten it. It’s not too big, is it? Stepping back to admire. It’s gorgeous, look in the mirror!
LYMAN: It’s beautiful, thank you, dear. But listen, I really have something to . . .
THEO: My God, Lyman, you are simply magnificent! Linking arms with him and walking in her cumbersome way. I have another surprise—I got tickets for the Balanchine! And a table at Luigi’s afterwards!
LYMAN, grimly screwing up his courage—and beginning to resent her domination: I have something to tell you, Theo, why do you make it so hard for me!
THEO: What. He is paralyzed. What is it? Has something happened? Alarmed now. Lyman!—asking—you went for your checkup!
LYMAN, about to explode: God’s sake, no, it’s not that!
THEO: Why is your face so gray? Please, what is it, you look terrified!
He moves away from her and her awful caring, and halts facing front. She remains behind and calls to him from the distance.
—My cousin Wilbur’s still at Mass. General, we can go up there together . . . ! Please, darling, don’t worry about anything . . . ! What is it, can’t you tell me?
In total blockage—both in the past and in the present—he inhales deeply and lets out a gigantic long howl, arms raised, imploring heaven for relief. In effect, it blasts her out of his mind—she goes dark, and he is alone again.
LYMAN, to himself, facing front: No guts. That’s the whole story. Courage! If I’d been honest for three consecutive minutes . . . No! I know what’s wrong with me—I could never stand still for death! Which you’ve got to do by a certain age, or be ridiculous—you’ve got to stand there nobly and serene and let death run his tape out your arms and around your belly and up your crotch until he’s got you fitted for that last black suit. And I can’t, I won’t! . . . So I’m left wrestling with this anachronistic energy which . . . as he leaps onto the bed, covering his left arm, crying out to the world . . . God has charged me with and I will use it till the dirt is shoveled into my mouth! Life! Life! Fuck death and dying!
Light widens, finding Leah in the present, dressed differently than previously—in her fur coat—standing near the bed with the Nurse, listening to his shouts.
NURSE: Don’t be afraid, just wait a minute, he comes out of it. I’m sure he wants to see you.
LEAH, moving tentatively to the cast: Lyman? He looks at her with cloudy recognition. It’s me, Leah.
Nurse exits. Lyman now fully aware of Leah.
LYMAN: Leah! Turning away from her. Jesus, what have I done to you!—wait . . . A moment. He looks around. Was Theo here?
LEAH: I think she’s gone, I just got here.
LYMAN: Oh, Leah, it’s sitting on my chest like a bag of cement.
LEAH: What is?
LYMAN: My character.
LEAH: Yes, well . . . it’s pretty bad. Listen . . .
LYMAN, moved: Thanks for coming. You’re a friend.
LEAH: I only came about Benny. Frustrated, turns away. He’s excited that he has a sister.
LYMAN, painful admiration: Oh that dear boy!
LEAH: He’s very badly mixed up, Lyman; he’s seen us all on TV and the other kids tell him he has two mothers. He sits there and weeps. He keeps asking me are you coming home again. It’s twisting my heart. I’m terrified if this isn’t settled right it could screw up the rest of his life. Tears start. You’re his idol, his god, Lyman!
LYMAN: Oh, the wreckage, the wreckage . . .
LEAH: Tell me the truth; whichever it is is okay but I just want to know—do you feel a responsibility or not?
LYMAN, flaring up, scared as much as indignant: How can you ask such a thing?
LEAH: Why! That’s a reasonable question!
LYMAN: Now listen to me—I know I’m wrong and I’m wrong and I’m wrong but I did not throw you both across my saddle to rape you in my tent! You knew I was married, and you tried to make me love you, so I’m not entirely . . .
LEAH: Lyman, if you’re blaming me I’m going to sink through this floor!
LYMAN: I’m talking about truth, not blame—this is not entirely a one-man disaster!
LEAH: It’s amazing, the minute you talk about truth you always come out looking better than anyone else!
LYMAN: Now that’s unfair!
&nbs
p; LEAH, slight pause: I want to talk about Benny.
LYMAN: You could bring him tomorrow if you like. But go ahead, we can talk now.
LEAH, a pause as she settles down: I’m thinking.
LYMAN: Well stop thinking and bring him!
LEAH, with a flushed grin: Incidentally . . . they tell me you spent over an hour with your wife. Are you settling in there again?
LYMAN: All she did was sit there telling me I’m a monster who never loved anybody.
LEAH, with a hard grin: And you reassured her otherwise, of course.
LYMAN: Well, I did love her. And you know that better than anybody.
LEAH: What a piece of work you are, Lyman, really—you go falling off a mountain and you still don’t understand your hatred for that woman. It’s monumental. It’s . . . it’s oceanic.
LYMAN: What the hell is this now!
LEAH: My dear man, in case it slipped your mind, when I was two months pregnant we went to New York and you picked the Carlyle Hotel to stay at—four blocks from your house! “Loved her” . . . good G—!
A window begins to appear upstage with Theo seated in profile, reading a book. He is staring as he emerges from the bed, turning to look up at the window . . . Leah goes on with no pause.
What was all that about if it wasn’t hatred!—And walking me past your front window with her sitting there . . . ? You had murder in you and you still do!—probably for me too!
LYMAN, glancing up at Theo in the window: But it didn’t feel like murder at all. I was dancing the high wire on the edge of the world . . . finally risking everything to find myself! Strolling with you past my house, the autumn breeze, the lingerie in the Madison Avenue shop windows, the swish of . . . wasn’t it a taffeta skirt you wore? . . . and my new baby coiled in your belly? —I’d beaten guilt forever! She is moving toward him, part of his recall. . . . And how languorous you were, your pregnant glory under the streetlamp!
She takes on the ease of that long-ago stroll, and . . .
LEAH: Is that her?
Lyman looks up at Theo, then at Leah, inspired, alive.
LYMAN: Oh Leah darling, how sexy you look against tall buildings.
LEAH, with a warm smile, taking his arm: You’re tense, aren’t you.
LYMAN: Well, I lived here with her for so many years . . . You know?—I’d love to go in and say hello . . . But I don’t have the guts . . .
LEAH: Was she very upset when you told her?
LYMAN, tragically, but hesitates: Very, yes.
LEAH: Well, maybe she’ll think of marrying again.
LYMAN: Marrying again? With a glance to the window; loosening her grip on his arm. I doubt it, somehow.
LEAH, with an intrigued smile: Mustn’t we touch?
LYMAN, quickly regaining her arm: Of course! They start walking away.
LEAH: I’d love to meet her sometime . . . just as friends.
LYMAN: You might. Halts. A strange determination suddenly: Listen, I’d like to see if I can go in and say hello.
LEAH: Why not! You don’t want me to come, do you?
LYMAN: Not just yet. Would you mind a lot?
LEAH: Why! I’m glad that you still have feeling for her.
LYMAN: God, you have balls! I’ll see you back at the hotel in twenty minutes, okay?
LEAH: Take your time! I’ll play with all that gorgeous underwear you bought. Touching her belly. I’m so contented, Lyman!
She turns and walks toward the cast, which lights up. He remains below the window, staring at her departing figure.
LYMAN, alone: Why is it, the happier she is the sadder I get? It’s this damned objectivity!—Why can’t I just dive in and swim in my happiness! Now he looks up at Theo, and his heart sinks. Leaps up with violent determination. Idiot!—love her! Now that she can’t deprive you anymore let love flow to your wise and wonderful wife! He rushes toward Theo, but then turns away in terror, walking around in a circle and blowing out air and covering his face. Guilt, burn in hell! Now he again hurries toward the window . . . which disappears, as she rises, setting her book down, startled.
THEO: Lyman! —You said Tuesday, didn’t you?
He takes her in his arms, kisses her frantically. She is surprised and happy.
LYMAN: What a handsome lady! Theo, you are God’s handwriting.
THEO: Ralph Waldo Emerson.
LYMAN: Someday I’m going to swipe an image you never heard of! Laughing, in a comradely style, embraces her closely as he takes her to a seat—stoking up a certain excited intimacy here. Listen, I just hitched a ride down with this pilot in his new Cessna—I have meetings up there starting seven-thirty tomorrow but I just had to astonish you.
THEO: You flew in a small plane at night?
LYMAN: That whole fear was guilt, Theo—I thought I deserved to crash. But I deserve to live because I am not a bad guy and I love you.
THEO: Well, I’m floating away! When must you go back?
LYMAN: Now.
THEO, near laughter at the absurdity: Can’t we even chat?
LYMAN: Let me call that I’m on my way. Dials a phone.
THEO: I’ll drive you to the airport.
LYMAN: No, he’s picking me up at the Carlyle . . . Hello?
Lights up on Leah, holding a phone.
LEAH: Darling!
LYMAN: Be there in ten minutes.
LEAH, puzzled: Oh? Okay. Why are you calling?
LYMAN: Just to make sure you didn’t forget me and took off.
LEAH: Your jealousy is so comforting!—You know, she made a very dignified picture, reading in the window—it was like an Edward Hopper, kind of haunted.
LYMAN: Yes. Well, I’m leaving right now. Hangs up.
THEO: You won’t forget about dinner Thursday with Leona and Gilbert . . . he’s gotten his hearing aid so it won’t be so bad.
LYMAN, with a certain solemnity, taking her hands: I just had to steal this extra look at you . . . life’s so stupidly short, Theo.
THEO, happily: Why must death always sit on your shoulder when you’ve got more life in you than anybody! Ruffling his hair. In fact, you’re kind of sparkly tonight.
LYMAN, responding to her acceptance: Listen, we have time to make love.
THEO, with a surprised, delighted laugh: I wish I knew what’s come over you!
LYMAN: The realization of what a sweet piece of ass my wife is. He starts to lead her.
THEO: I bet it’s the new office in Elmira—new beginnings are always so exciting! There’s such power in you, Lyman.
LYMAN, turning her to him, he kisses her mouth: Yes, we’re going to do great business up there! Tell me something—has there ever been a god who was guilty?
THEO: Gods are never guilty, that’s why they’re gods.
LYMAN: It feels like the moon’s in my belly and the sun’s in my mouth and I’m shining down on the world. Laughs with a self-mocking charm. . . . A regular planetary flashlight! Come! And laughing in high tension takes her hand and moves her into darkness . . .
THEO: Oh, Lyman—how wonderfully, endlessly changing you are!
BLACKOUT
SCENE III
Lights up on Leah in hospital room; Lyman is returning to the bed.
LEAH: So you bopped her that night.
LYMAN: What can I say?
LEAH: And when you came back to the hotel, didn’t we . . . ?
LYMAN: I couldn’t help myself, you both looked absolutely gorgeous! How can that be evil?
LEAH, with a sigh: There’s just no end to you, is there. —Listen, I came to talk business; I want the house transferred to my name . . .
LYMAN: What?
LEAH: . . . Immediately. I know how much feeling you put into it but I want the security for Benny’s sake.
LYMAN: Leah, I beg you to wait with that . . .
LEAH: I will not wait with that! And I want my business returned to me.
LYMAN: That’ll be complicated—it’s many times bigger than when I took it over . . .
LEAH: I want it back! I would have expanded without you! I’m not going to be a total fool! I will sue you!
LYMAN, with a very uncertain grin: You’d really sue me?
LEAH, searching in her pocketbook: I’m not fooling around, Lyman. You’ve hurt me very deeply . . . She breaks off, holding back tears. She takes out a sheet of paper.
LYMAN, forced to turn from her: Jesus, how I hate to see you cry.
LEAH: I have something I want you to sign.
LYMAN: To sign?
LEAH: It’s a quit-claim on the house and my business. Will you read it?
LYMAN: You’re not serious.
LEAH: I had Ted Lester draw it up. Here, read it.
LYMAN: I know what a quit-claim is, don’t tell me to read a quit-claim. How can you do this?
LEAH: We aren’t married and I don’t want you making claims on me.
LYMAN: And . . . and what about Benny. You don’t mean you’re taking Benny from me . . .
LEAH: I . . .
LYMAN: I want you to bring him here tomorrow morning so I can talk to him.
LEAH: Just a minute . . .
LYMAN: No! You’re going to bring him, Leah . . .
LEAH: Now you listen to me! I will not allow you to see him until I know what you intend to say to him about all this. I’ve also been through it with my father’s old lawyer and you haven’t a legal leg to stand on.
LYMAN: I’ll tell him the truth—I love him.
LEAH: You mean it’s all right to lie and deceive people you love? He’s all I have now, Lyman, I am not going to see him go crazy!
LYMAN: Now you stop that! I did a helluva lot more than lie to him . . .
LEAH, outpouring: You lied to him!—why don’t you seem to register this? . . . To buy him the pony, and teach him to ski, and take him up in the glider . . . you made him worship you—when you knew what you knew! That was cruelty!
LYMAN: All right, what do you think I should tell him?
The Penguin Arthur Miller Page 117