LEAH: That you beg his pardon and say he musn’t follow your example because lying to people injures them.
LYMAN: I am not turning myself into a pile of shit in front of my son’s face! If I can teach him anything now it’s to have the guts to be true to himself! That’s all that matters!
LEAH: Even if he has to betray the whole world to do it?
LYMAN: Only the truth is sacred, Leah!—to hold back nothing!
LEAH: You must be crazy—you hold back everything! You really don’t know right from wrong, do you!
LYMAN: Jesus Christ, you sound like Theo!
LEAH: Well maybe it’s what happens to people who marry you! Look—I don’t think it’s a good idea at the moment . . .
LYMAN: I have a right to see my son!
LEAH: I won’t have him copying you, Lyman, it will destroy his life! I’m leaving! She starts to leave.
LYMAN: You bring me Benny or I’ll . . . I’ll sue you, goddammit!
Enter Bessie alone. She is extremely tense and anxious.
BESSIE: Oh, good, I was hoping you’d still be here. Listen . . .
LEAH: I was just going . . .
BESSIE: Oh please wait! My mother’s had an attack of some kind . . .
LYMAN: My God, what is it!
BESSIE: They’re looking at her in a room down the hall. She’s a little delusionary and talks about taking him home with her, and I think it would help for her to see you’re still together.
LEAH: But we’re not at all together . . .
LYMAN: Wait! Why must it be delusion—maybe she really wants me back!
BESSIE, with a frustrated stamp of her foot: I want her out of here and home!
LYMAN: I am not a monster, Bessie! My God, where did all this cruelty come from!
LEAH: He wants her, you see . . .
LYMAN: I want you both!
BESSIE, a hysterical overtone, screaming: Will you once in your life think of another human being!
Tom and Theo enter with the Nurse; he has Theo by the arm. She has a heightened, seeing air about her, but a fixed, dead smile, and her head trembles.
LYMAN: Theo!—come, sit her down, Tom!
LEAH, to Bessie, fearfully: I really feel I ought to go . . .
THEO: Oh, I wish you could stay for a few minutes! To Nurse: Please get a chair for Mrs. Felt.
The reference causes surprise in Bessie. Leah looks quickly to Bessie, perplexed because this is the opposite of what Bessie and Theo wished. Lyman is immensely encouraged. The Nurse, as she goes out for the chair, glances about, perplexed.
Pleasantly: Well! Here we are all together.
Slight pause.
TOM: She’s had a little . . . incident, Lyman. To Bessie: I’ve arranged for a plane; the three of us can fly down together.
BESSIE: Oh good. —We’re ready to leave whenever you say, Mother.
LYMAN: Thanks, Theo . . . for coming.
THEO, turns to him, smiling blankly: Socialism is dead.
LYMAN: Beg your pardon?
THEO: And Christianity is finished, so . . . Searches . . . there really is nothing left to . . . to . . . to defend. Except simplicity? She crosses her legs, and her coat falls partially open, revealing a bare thigh.
BESSIE: Mother!—where’s your skirt?
THEO: I’m comfortable, it’s all right . . .
Nurse enters with a chair.
BESSIE: She must have left her skirt in that room she was just in—would you get it, please?
Nurse, perplexed again, exits.
THEO, to Leah: I wish I hadn’t carried on that way . . . I’m sorry. I’ve really nothing against you personally, I just never cared for your type. The surprise is what threw me, I mean that you were actually married. But I think you are rather an interesting person . . . I was just unprepared, but I’m seeing things much clearer now. Yes. Breaks off. Do you see the Village Voice up here?
LEAH: Yes, occasionally.
THEO: There was a strange interview some years back with Isaac Bashevis Singer, the novelist? The interviewer was a woman whose husband had left her for another woman, and she couldn’t understand why. And Singer said, “Maybe he liked her hole better.” I was shocked at the time, really outraged—you know, that he’d gotten a Nobel; but now I think it was courageous to have said that, because it’s probably true. Courage . . . courage and directness are always the main thing!
Nurse enters, offers Theo the skirt.
NURSE: Can I help you on with it?
THEO, takes the skirt, looks at it without recognition, and drops it on the floor: I can’t remember if I called you Leah or Mrs. Felt.
LEAH: I’m not really Mrs. Felt.
THEO, with a pleasant social smile: Well, you are a Mrs. Felt; perhaps that’s all one can hope for when we are so interchangeable—who knows anymore which Mrs. Felt will be coming down for breakfast! Short pause. Your boy needs his father, I imagine.
LEAH: Well . . . yes, but . . .
THEO: Then he should be here with you, shouldn’t he. We must all be realistic now. To Lyman: You can come up here whenever you want to . . . if that’s what you’d really like.
BESSIE, to Tom: She’s really too ill for this. —Come, Mother, we’re going.
THEO: I’m not at all ill. To Lyman: I can say “fuck,” you know. I never cared for the word but I’m sure she has her limitations too. I can say “Fuck me, Lyman,” “Fuck you, Lyman”; whatever.
Lyman is silent in guilty anguish.
BESSIE, to Lyman, furiously: Will you tell her to leave? Just out of respect, out of friendship!
LYMAN: Yes. Delicately. She’s right, Theo, I think that would be the best . . .
THEO, to Bessie: But I can take better care of him at home. To Leah: I really have nothing to do, and you’re busy, I imagine . . .
BESSIE: Tom, will you . . .
TOM: Why don’t we let her say what’s on her mind?
THEO, to Bessie: I want to start being real—he had every right to resent me. Truly. What did I ever do but correct him? To Leah: You don’t correct him, do you. You like him as he is, even now, don’t you. And that’s the secret, isn’t it. To Lyman: Well I can do that. I don’t need to correct you . . . or pretend to . . .
BESSIE: I can’t bear this, Mother!
THEO: But this is our life, Bessie dear; you must bear it. —I think I’ve always pretty well known what he was doing. Somewhere inside we all really know everything, don’t we? But one has to live, darling—one has to live . . . in the same house, the same bed. And so one learns to tolerate . . . it’s a good thing to tolerate . . . A furious shout. And tolerate, and tolerate!
BESSIE, terrified for her mother: Daddy, please . . . tell her to go!
LYMAN: But she’s telling the truth!
LEAH, suddenly filling up: You poor woman! To him: What a bastard you are; one honest sentence from you and none of this would have happened, it’s despicable! Appealing to Theo. I’m so sorry about it, Mrs. Felt . . .
THEO: No-no . . . he’s absolutely right—he’s always said it—it’s life I can’t trust! But you—you trust it, and that’s why you should win out.
LEAH: But it’s not true—I never really trusted him! Not really! I always knew there was something dreadful wriggling around underneath! In full revolt now. I’ll tell you the goddamned truth, I never really wanted to marry anybody! I’ve never known one happy couple! —Listen, you mustn’t blame yourself, the whole damned thing doesn’t work, it never works . . . which I knew and went ahead and did it anyway and I’ll never understand why!
LYMAN: Because if you hadn’t married me you wouldn’t have kept Benny, that’s why. She can’t find words. You wouldn’t have had Benny or this last nine years of your happiness. Shit that I am, I helped you become the woman you always wanted to be, instead of . . . Catches
himself. Well, what’s the difference?
LEAH: No, don’t stop—instead of what? What did you save me from?
LYMAN, accepting her challenge: All right . . . from all those lonely postcoital showerbaths, and the pointless pillow talk and the boxes of heartless condoms beside your bed . . . !
LEAH, speechless: Well now!
LYMAN: I’m sick of this crap, Leah! —You got a little something out of this despicable treachery!
THEO: That’s a terrible thing to say to the woman.
LYMAN: But the truth is terrible, what else have you just been saying? It’s terrible because it’s embarrassing, but the truth is always embarrassing or it isn’t the truth! —You tolerated me because you loved me, dear, but wasn’t it also the good life that I gave you? —Well, what’s wrong with that? Aren’t women people? Don’t people love comfort and power? I don’t understand the disgrace here!
BESSIE, to both women: Why are you still sitting here, don’t you have any pride! To Leah: This is disgusting!
LEAH: Will you please stop this high moral tone? I have business with him, so I have to talk to him! —I’ll go out of my mind here! Am I being accused of something?
Off to the side, Tom bends his head over clasped hands, eyes shut.
BESSIE: You shouldn’t be in the same room with him!
LEAH, rattled: I just explained that, didn’t I? What the hell do you want?
LYMAN, crying out, voice cracking with a sob: She wants her father back!
BESSIE: You son of a bitch! Raises her fists, then weeps helplessly.
LYMAN: I love you—Bessie!—all of you!
BESSIE: You ought to be killed!
LYMAN: You are all magnificent!
Bessie bursts into tears. A helpless river of grief, which now overflows to sweep up Lyman; then Leah is carried away by the wave of weeping. All strategies collapse as finally Theo is infected. The four of them are helplessly covering their faces. It is a veritable mass keening, a funerary explosion of grief, each for his or her own condition, for love’s frustration and for the end of all their capacity to reason. Tom has turned from them, head bent in prayer, hands clasped, eyes shut.
LYMAN, his eye falls on Theo’s bare leg: Tom, please!—get her to put some clothes on . . . Breaks off. Are you praying, for Christ’s sake?
TOM, staring ahead: There is no way to go forward. You must all stop loving him. You must or he will destroy you. He is an endless string attached to nothing.
LYMAN: Who is not an endless string? Who is sworn to some high golden purpose now—lawyers? Why are you all talking nonsense?
TOM: —Theo needs help now, Lyman, and I don’t want a conflict, so I don’t see how I can go on representing you.
LYMAN: Of course not, I am not worthy. A shout, but with the strain of his loss, his inability to connect. —But I am human, and proud of it!—yes, of the glory and the shit! The truth, the truth is holy!
TOM, exploding: Is it. Well! Then you’ll admit that you moved that barrier aside yourself, and drove onto that sheet of ice? That’s the truth, isn’t it?
LYMAN, instant’s hesitation: That was not suicide—I am not a cop-out!
TOM: Why is it a cop-out? Your shame finally caught up with you—or is that too true for comfort? Your shame is the best part of you, for God’s sake, why do you pretend you’re beyond it? Breaks off, giving it up. I’m ready to go, Theo.
LYMAN, suddenly struck: One more moment—I beg you all. Before you leave me . . . please. I’d like to tell you something.
BESSIE, quietly relentless: Mother?
She raises Theo to her feet. Her head is trembling. She turns to Lyman.
LYMAN: I’m asking you to hear me out, Theo. I see what happened.
THEO: I have nothing left in me anymore, Lyman.
Bessie takes her by the arm to go. Leah stands, as though to leave.
LYMAN: I beg you, Leah, two minutes. I have to tell you this!
LEAH, an evasive color: I have work in the office . . .
LYMAN, losing control: Two minutes, Leah? Before you take away my son because of my unworthiness? Pause. Something simple, authentic in his tone stops them all. Here is how I got on the Mount Morgan road. I kept calling you, Leah, from the Howard Johnson’s to tell you I’d be staying over because of the storm . . . but the line was busy. So I went to bed, but it was busy . . . over an hour . . . more! And I started to ask the operator to cut in as an emergency when . . . Breaks off. I remembered what you once said to me . . .
LEAH: I was talking to . . .
LYMAN, in quick fury: It doesn’t matter, I’m not accusing you, or defending myself either, I’m telling you what happened!—please let me finish!
LEAH: I was talking to my brother!
LYMAN: In Japan, for over an hour?
LEAH: He just got back on Monday.
LYMAN: Well it doesn’t matter!
LEAH: It certainly does matter!
LYMAN: Please let me finish, Leah; remember you once said . . . “I might lie to you,” remember that? Way at the beginning? It seemed so wonderful then . . . that you could be so honest; but now, on my back in that room, I started to die.
LEAH: I don’t want to hear anymore!
Theo, Bessie are moving out.
LYMAN: Wait! Please! I haven’t made my point! Something new, genuine in his voice stops them. I want to stop lying. It’s simple. A visionary look. On my back in that bed, the snow piling up outside . . . the wind howling at my window—this whole nine-year commute suddenly seemed so ludicrous, it was suddenly laughable. I couldn’t understand why I’d done it. And somehow I realized that I had no feeling left . . . for myself or anyone . . . I was a corpse on that bed. And I got dressed and drove back into the storm. I don’t know—maybe I did want to die, except that what I really thought, Leah . . . was that if I walked in two, three in the morning out of a roaring blizzard like that . . . you’d believe how I needed you. And then I would believe it too, and I’d come back to life again. Unless . . . Turns to Tom. I just wanted the end of it all. To the women: But I swear to you . . . looking at you now, Theo, and Leah, and you, Bessie . . . I have never felt the love that I feel right now. But I’ve harmed you and I know it. —And one more thing; I can’t leave you with a lie—the truth is that in some miserable, dark corner of my soul I still don’t see why I am condemned. I bless you all. He weeps helplessly.
Bessie turns Theo to leave.
THEO: . . . Say goodbye to him, dear.
BESSIE, dry-eyed now; her feeling clearer, she has a close to impersonal sound: I hope you’re better soon, Daddy. Goodbye.
She takes her mother’s arm—Theo no longer resists as they move out into darkness. He turns to Leah.
LYMAN: Oh Leah, say something tough and honest . . . the way you can.
LEAH: I don’t know if I’ll ever believe anything . . . or anybody, again.
LYMAN: Oh no. No!—I haven’t done that!
A great weeping sweeps Leah and she rushes out.
Leah! Leah! Don’t say I’ve done that!
But she is gone.
TOM: Talk to you soon.
He sees that Lyman is lost in space, and he goes out. The Nurse comes from her corner to Lyman.
NURSE: You got pain?
He doesn’t reply.
I’ll get you something to smooth you out.
LYMAN: Don’t leave me alone, okay?—for a little while? Please, sit with me. Pats the mattress. She approaches the bed but remains standing.
I want to thank you, Logan. I won’t forget your warmth, especially. A woman’s warmth is the last magic, you’re a piece of sun. —Tell me . . . when you’re out there on the ice with your husband and your boy . . . what do you talk about?
NURSE: . . . Well, let’s see . . . this last time we all bought us some shoes at that big Knapp Shoe Outl
et up there?—they’re seconds, but you can’t tell them from new.
LYMAN: So you talked about your new shoes?
NURSE: Well, they’re great buys.
LYMAN: Right. That . . . that’s just wonderful to do that. I don’t know why, but it just is.
NURSE: I’ll be right back. She starts away.
LYMAN: Hate me?
NURSE, with an embarrassed shrug: I don’t know. I got to think about it.
LYMAN: Come right back, huh? I’m still a little . . . shaky.
She leans down and kisses his forehead.
Why’d you do that?
NURSE, shrugs: No reason.
She exits.
LYMAN, painful wonder and longing in his face, his eyes wide, alive . . . : What a miracle everything is! Absolutely everything! . . . Imagine . . . three of them sitting out there together on that lake, talking about their shoes! He begins to weep, but quickly catches himself. Now learn loneliness. But cheerfully. Because you earned it, kid, all by yourself. Yes. You have found Lyman at last! So . . . cheer up!
BLACKOUT
THE LAST YANKEE
1993
Characters
LEROY HAMILTON
JOHN FRICK
PATRICIA HAMILTON
KAREN FRICK
UNNAMED PATIENT
SCENE I
The visiting room of a state mental hospital. Leroy Hamilton is seated on one of the half-dozen chairs, idly leafing through an old magazine. He is forty-eight, trim, dressed in subdued Ivy League jacket and slacks and shined brogans. A banjo case rests against his chair.
Mr. Frick enters. He is sixty, solid, in a business suit. He carries a small valise. He looks about, glances at Leroy, just barely nods, and sits ten feet away. He looks at his watch, then impatiently at the room. Leroy goes on leafing through the magazine.
FRICK, pointing right: Supposed to notify somebody in there?
LEROY, indicating left: Did you give your name to the attendant?
FRICK: Yes. ’Seem to be paying much attention, though.
LEROY: They know you’re here, then. He calls through to the ward. Returns to his magazine.
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