by Edward Albee
ANN
When?!
PETER
When you came in with the dish towel. “We should talk,” you said.
ANN (Puzzled.)
Did I?
PETER
Yes!
ANN
Well, I must have wanted to talk about something.
PETER
Yes; I assumed.
ANN
And we didn’t talk about it.
PETER
No; I don’t think so.
ANN
I wonder what it was. Was this before the spinach?
PETER
During.
ANN
I wonder what it was!
PETER
Maybe if you go out and come back …
ANN
That’s silly.
PETER
It might jog your memory.
ANN (Pause.)
All right. I’ll go back out and come back in.
PETER
And I’ll go back to my book.
ANN
OK.
(She exits. PETER reads. She reenters.)
We should talk.
(PETER reads. She exits, reenters.)
That didn’t do a thing.
PETER
Nothing?
ANN
Well, it had a kind of fascination—pretending to be doing something for the first time. That was interesting, but I don’t think it helped much, helped our problem … our dilemma.
PETER
… the dilemma of what you meant when …
ANN
… when I came in back there and said “We should talk.” The first time. Not the second. Before the spinach.
PETER
I wouldn’t keep doing it.
ANN
No; certainly not. Besides, it’ll probably come to me, when I least expect it, like so much does.
PETER
… down on the elevator, out the door, down Seventy-fourth Street to the corner …
ANN
… stand there? Scream? In the night? Then it might come back to me?
PETER
Might.
(Imitation.)
“I know what I wanted to talk to him about!”
ANN
More likely something less … dramatic. But if it did—if it was—I’d have to wake you up and tell you.
PETER
And if you did—if you woke me—I’d know it was something important—something … threatening.
ANN (Smiles.)
Really; and we don’t have that, do we.
PETER (Uncertain.)
No. I don’t think so—not yet anyway.
ANN
No, but if I did wake you, said we had to talk, you’d sit up quickly, and your eyes’d be open very wide.
PETER
Yes. Well, I think so. And I’d know something terrible had happened.
ANN
You’d know?
PETER
Well, no; I don’t know if I’d know, but I think I would.
ANN
You’d assume.
PETER
Yes. That’s it: I’d assume.
ANN
What would you assume?
PETER
That something terrible had …
ANN
You said that. Specifically. What specifically?
PETER (A little annoyed.)
Well, I don’t know. I mean … for God’s sake, Ann …
ANN
I’m not a generality; I’m a person.
PETER
I know.
ANN
… and if I woke you and you bolted up, whatever awful thing you thought had happened would relate to me, most likely, or the kids, or you, or …
PETER
Yes!
ANN
So?!
PETER
I’d … what’s the term? … I’d “gather my wits about me.”
ANN
So that’s what you’d do, is it?
PETER
What?
ANN
Gather your wits about you—if I sat on the bed and woke you in the … what do they call it? … the small hours? That’s what you’d do?
PETER
Most likely. Or scream. Or refuse to wake up.
ANN
If you thought it was going to be terrible enough.
PETER
Yes. But I’d probably bolt up, gather my wits about me … and ask what it was.
ANN
But what would you imagine? What would you imagine was terrible enough …
PETER
That’s not what I said. “Important” is what I said, or “threatening.”
ANN
Then you said “terrible.”
PETER
All right!!
ANN
And we don’t have that, do we?
PETER (Sighs.)
No. But—as I said—we’re probably going to, one day.
ANN (Sincere.)
Oh, you poor dear. And we may even talk about it.
PETER
Don’t patronize.
ANN
I’m not.
PETER (Calm.)
I’m not a bad person, you know; my life may not be very exciting … no jagged edges …
ANN (Agreeing.)
No.
PETER
… but it’s not a bad life we’ve made together, and …
ANN
I know! I’m happy!
PETER (Tiny pause.)
Are you?
ANN
Well … yes; I … yes, of course. I have my bad times. You do, too.
PETER
You do?
ANN
Of course. You never tell me about yours, so …
PETER
I do! I just told you about …
ANN
Not the real ones; not the ones that there’s nothing to be done about … in any real sense.
PETER (Pause.)
Ah. Those. Well, you don’t tell me, either.
ANN
About the real ones? The ones there’s nothing to be done about?
PETER
Yes; those.
ANN
Why bother? If there’s nothing to be done … why bother? If there’s no help … why bother?
PETER (Shy.)
To … share?
ANN
Be helpless together? Cling like marmosets?
PETER
People need that sometimes.
ANN
Do they? Do you?
PETER
Not yet … I guess.
ANN
I wonder if I do.
PETER (Pressing.)
What was it you’d tell me?
ANN (Self-absorbed.)
Hm?
PETER
What was it you’d tell me if you sat on the bed and woke me in the small hours? What might it be?
ANN
Oh …
(Gathers ideas.)
that my mother had died—or yours? That someone had kidnapped the girls? That I was three months pregnant and not by you? That our broker had made off with everything? That …
PETER (Hands over ears.)
Please!!
ANN
What do you want—minor stuff? The parakeets got out? The icebox broke? Someone threw up in the hall?
PETER
Yes!
ANN
I wouldn’t wake you up for any of that. And I don’t wake you for the worse stuff—the real killers that nothing can be done about. That … that I know you love me—as you understand it, and I’m grateful for that—but not enough, that you don’t love me the way I need it, or I think I do; that that’s not your makeup—not in you, perhaps, or that maybe there’s no one could do it, could love me as much as I need to be loved; or worse … that I think I deserve more than I do, and that deep down I’m … less than I think I am.
PETER (A hand out.)
Oh, Ann.
ANN
Shall I go on?
PETER (Sighs.)
Might as well.
ANN
That nothing is … ultimately … sufficient—not you, not us, not … me? And I know you’re probably going through this, too. Or—worse—that maybe you’re not, that maybe none of it’s ever occurred to you—that you … don’t have it in you?
PETER (Long silence.)
Well.
ANN
You did ask.
PETER
Yes, I did.
ANN
Which is it?
PETER
Pardon?
ANN (Harder.)
… that you don’t have it in you!
PETER (Quiet supplication.)
Be kind.
ANN
No! No! Do you? Do you have it in you?
PETER (Engaged, but rational.)
I thought we both made a decision—when we decided to be together, or even before we knew each other—I thought we made a decision, must have made one, that what we wanted was a smooth voyage on a safe ship, a view of porpoises now and then, a gentle swell, bright clouds way off, a sense that it was a … familiar voyage, though we’d never taken it before—a pleasant journey, all the way through. And that’s what we’re having …
(Slight doubt.)
isn’t it?
ANN (A tinge of disappointment.)
Yeah; sure.
PETER (Hearing it.)
No?
ANN
No; yes. That’s what we’ve both wanted: stay away from icebergs; avoid the Bermuda Triangle; remember where the lifeboats are, knowing, of course, that most of them don’t work—no need. Yes; that’s what we’ve wanted … and that’s what we’ve had—for the most part. And isn’t it frightening.
PETER
That wasn’t a question.
ANN
No; it wasn’t. And isn’t it frightening.
PETER (A little boy.)
It is?
ANN
Sure. And we’ll never die.
PETER
No?
ANN
No; we’ll just vanish.
(A silence.)
PETER
I made the assumption, I guess, that it’s what you wanted, too.
ANN
Oh? Well … sure—for the most part … most of the time. We have a better life than most people; we haven’t hit any of the brick walls yet; the playing field is all green and mowed within an inch of its life, except now and then there are … gopher holes.
PETER (Bewildered.)
Gopher holes?!
ANN
Sure; take our fucking, now …
PETER (A protest.)
Ann!
ANN
There’s no one here: The cats are asleep someplace, the girls are upstairs going deaf from all the music, and the birds couldn’t care less. Who’s to hear?
PETER (Quietly.)
Me?
ANN
Oh, yeah? Then listen. You’re good at making love.
PETER
Thank you.
ANN
You’re welcome, but you’re lousy at fucking.
(PETER gets up.)
Sit down!
(He does.)
All the things that fucking entails, or can entail—aggressive, brutal maybe, two people who’ve known each other for years—slept together for years—suddenly behaving like strangers, like people who’ve just met in a bar and gone to the motel next door to hammer it all out, to fuck for the sake of fucking. There are people who’ve lived together for years, who love one another deeply. Who sometimes go at each other like strangers—a regular one-shot deal, like you’ll never see each other again … or want to. The moment! Two strangers! The moment! There are people rise to that—sink to it, if you like—rise to that, become animals, strangers, with nothing less than impure simple lust for one another. There are people do that.
PETER (Long, sad pause.)
I’m not like that.
ANN
I know. And I love you dearly. When we come together in bed and I know we’re going to—what is the term young people use?—going to do it? When we come together in bed and I know we’re going to “make love.” I know it’s going to be two people who love each other giving quiet, orderly, predictable, deeply pleasurable joy. And believe me, my darling, it’s enough; it’s more than enough … most of the time. But where’s the … the rage, the … animal? We’re animals! Why don’t we behave like that … like beasts?! Is it that we love each other too safely, maybe? That we’re secure? That we’re too … civilized? Don’t we ever hate one another?
PETER (Small pause.)
Cover it up any way you want—be nice about it—but you mean I’m not very good in bed.
ANN
No! You’re very good—very good. I just wish you could be a little … bad sometime.
(Sees him react.)
I’ve hurt you!
PETER
No; that’s not it. I was bad, once. I was very bad.
ANN (Ears sharp.)
Oh? Recently?
PETER (Smiles slightly.)
No; before I knew you.
ANN (Kind of sad.)
Oh.
PETER
I’ve never told you. I never thought I’d have to. I was at college. And I’d pledged to a fraternity.
ANN (Generous.)
Well … back then bright people did that sometimes.
PETER
Yes. And there was a lot of hazing—forcing beer down us ’til we threw up, making us take terrible enemas until we couldn’t hold it, and throwing us out of doors naked, so passersby would …
ANN
Jesus!
PETER
Yes; well. And one night there was the sex party.
ANN (Ears again.)
Oh?
PETER
It was ugly; it was planned with one of the sororities. The pledges were all put together—the girls with the boys, and …
ANN
And?
PETER
And we were supposed to fuck. Cherry-popping they called it.
ANN
I don’t believe it.
PETER
What happened?
ANN
No; the term.
PETER
Well, there it was—a lot of liquor, grass, other stuff. Mattresses spread around; lights way down; rooms, too. And most people … wanted it, or seemed to.
ANN
What fraternity was this?
PETER
And there was this girl came on to me; I didn’t know her …
ANN
… from Eve.
PETER
… from what? Oh; yes; very good. I didn’t know her and she’d brought me into this room, and we were alone in there and … well, I’d been with a couple of girls—you know: in my life—so I wasn’t a total amateur, or anything. And we were both … out of it—mostly grass, I think—and we’d gotten naked, and she was playing with my … with my …
ANN
Your ear? Your toe?
PETER
No; my … my …
(Points.)
ANN (Fairly loud.)
Your penis!
PETER (Sotto voce.)
Yes! Shhhhh!
(She laughs.)
Don’t!
ANN
Sorry.
PETER
And I guess we were both pretty hot, and I moved down on her and …
ANN
Did she like that? I do.
PETER
I know.
ANN
Go on.
PETER
Well, I thought she would, and I was spreading her a little, and she said, “No. Don’t do that. Go in me.” And so I spread her further, and, well, my … penis was very hard, and I was going to enter her and she said, “No; not there
. The other.”
ANN (Enlightened.)
Ohhhhhh.
PETER
“You want me to …,” “Yes! Yes! There!” Well, I’d never done that, and …
ANN
What a surprise.
PETER
Let me finish?
ANN
Sorry.
PETER
But it was what she wanted she said, and it was real exciting, and so I did. And it was; it was real exciting, and disgusting, and it turned me on in an awful way, and I wanted to hurt her, and she started sort of hissing at me, “Hurt me! Hurt me!” And … I guess I was too big …
ANN (Entranced.)
Big enough.
PETER
And—here it is—I was stroking harder and harder, jamming it into her, really, and she was sobbing and yelling and “Yes! Hurt me!” And I kept on jamming and jamming into her until she screamed, and it wasn’t a right scream, and she screamed again and tried to push me out with her hands and she did, and there was blood; my … penis was bloody and …
ANN (Oddly angry.)
No! Not your penis! Your dick! Your cock! That’s what was bloody!
PETER (Tiny pause.)
Yes;
(Comes down from it as he talks.)
and I was all bloody, and she was crying—whimpering really, and I said, “Oh, God, I’m sorry; I’m so sorry!” And she said, “You hurt me!” And I said “That’s what you said; you said you wanted me to hurt you! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
(Pause.)
ANN (Cold.)
What happened?
PETER (Sighs.)
She went to the infirmary, they told me, and they fixed her up and …
ANN
And?
PETER
And she never told anyone who I was. I guess she was too embarrassed.
ANN
Or too nice?
PETER
What? Oh, yes: or too nice. So … so I’ve been careful never to hurt anyone—to hurt you; you being everyone for so long now.
ANN
Thank you.
PETER
It’s not all right to want to love somebody and not hurt them?
ANN (Oddly self-absorbed.)
Yes; of course it is.
PETER
So, if I’ve been too careful, if I’m too gentle …
ANN
You learned your lesson.
PETER
Yes.
ANN
I don’t think I was talking about pain, anyway—not like that; that’s something I don’t need. I think I was talking about being an animal—nothing more.
PETER (A litle uncertain.)
We all are, no?
ANN
Yes, but we can have it bred out of us—learned away. Thank you for being a fine husband—no sarcasm; don’t even think it—for being gentle, and thoughtful, and honest, and … “good”—oh, that awful word! And for putting up with your wife, who seems to want … something a little less—less deserving, maybe, though she doesn’t know; has glimmers now and then, but doesn’t truly know.
PETER (Pause.)