by James Reston
MARTHA: Yes! I’m going to buy steaks and I’m going to make a nice salad and I’m going to put potatoes in the oven and . . . and . . . we’ll have wine! I’ll get a nice bottle of wine! And pie! I baked a pie this week and we’ll put ice cream on it and . . . unless of course you have other plans.
MEGS: Are you kiddin’ me?
MARTHA: Yes?
MEGS: Are you kiddin’ me?
MARTHA: You’ll come?
MEGS: Fuckin’ A, I’ll come! With fuckin’ bells on! You’ll pardon the expression. And listen, I’m buyin’ the wine!
MARTHA: I don’t know wine.
MEGS: Me neither, so what? We’ll shoot in the best. Know why? ’Cause you and me, Martha, we deserve it! Goddam, I better get cracking! It’s gonna take me a year in the shower to get cleaned up and even then I’d hedge my bets!
MARTHA: Eight o’clock?
MEGS: Eight o’clock is good.
MARTHA: I can be ready earlier.
MEGS: Seven-thirty is earlier.
MARTHA: How about seven?
MEGS: Goddam, woman! Why don’t I just stay and watch you change!? Just kiddin’, just kiddin’. Opening Day. It feels like Christmas. (HE puts his lucky hat on MARTHA) I’ll be back.
MARTHA: Bye, Joseph.
MEGS: Joseph. You’re too much, Martha. Something. M-A-R-T-H-A!
MEGS exits out the front door, slamming it behind him. MARTHA rushes to the door and peers out watching him go.
MARTHA: Oh my . . .
DAVE has stirred at the sound of the slamming door. HE sits up on the couch, groggy. A moment. MARTHA turns. SHE and DAVE look at each other. MARTHA is suddenly aware SHE is wearing the hat. SHE quickly takes it off. Lights to black.
End of Act One
ACT TWO
Scene 1
MARTHA enters down the stairs into the living room. SHE is wearing a beautiful dress in a light pastel color, her hair is carefully brushed back. SHE wears a bit of makeup, DAVE enters right behind her. HE is unchanged, unshaven, and is smoking a cigarette.
DAVE: What a ya mean you invited him over for dinner?
MARTHA: I thought I spoke English. Invite, a verb, to request the participation of. Dinner. That’s a meal if memory serves me.
DAVE: I don’t want to eat dinner with him.
MARTHA: Your participation has not been requested. If you’d like to, you may. Go out if you don’t.
DAVE: I don’t even want the guy in my house.
MARTHA: It’s my house too. What shall we do? Call Mother in Florida and ask for a tie-breaking vote?
DAVE: What is this, Martha? Be kind to stranger week? You don’t even know Megs.
MARTHA: That’s why I invited him over. To get to know him.
DAVE: What you’re going to find out, you don’t need.
MARTHA: David, I am trying to tidy up. It is difficult with you pretending you’re Mount St. Helen’s, spewing ashes everywhere.
DAVE: Sis, want to know what he was in Vietnam? Jacknife. That’s what he called himself. It’s a truckdriving term, sis. It’s when you take a big, beautiful eighteen-wheeler and you crash it, turn it to shit. Jacknife. ’Cause he crashed trucks. He was crazy. And Vietnam made him crazier. He’s spent more time in the can on assault charges than you can believe.
MARTHA: He’s been very nice.
DAVE: Nothing’s happened to get him started. Push the right button and he’s off. Berserk, Martha.
MARTHA: I’m sorry you don’t like him, I do.
DAVE: You want to go out with someone? OK, I’ll set you up. Plenty a guys owe me favors; it’ll be no problem.
MARTHA: No, thank you.
DAVE: Martha . . .
MARTHA (Exiting to the kitchen): I have to put potatoes in the oven.
DAVE (Following): He’s nothing but a mechanic, Martha. He owns a garage for Christsake.
MARTHA: And you drive a truck, David. I try not to hold it against you.
Pause.
DAVE: Steak. We were gonna have trout for dinner. What a laugh. I froze my ass off.
MARTHA: I should have thought you were too drunk to feel anything.
DAVE: Martha, listen, I have his number someplace. Call him and tell him something came up, the P.T.A.
MARTHA: Are you joining us?
DAVE: The fucking board of education wants to see you!
MARTHA: Do you want a potato!?
DAVE: Yes! (Pause) If Dad was alive, he wouldn’t let a guy like this on the front porch.
MARTHA: Go out, David. Call up your friends, go to a bar and get drunk and hoarse screaming at the television.
DAVE: No way.
MARTHA: Then not another word if you’re staying! Be what you usually are, a presence in the house that eats whatever’s put in front of it and grunts when spoken to. I’d be better off living with a Saint Bernard!
DAVE: What is with you today?
MARTHA: What do you care, David? Really, why this sudden concern about who I see?
DAVE: Hey, you’re my sister.
MARTHA: I thought I was your housekeeper, your cook. I don’t know how long it’s been since I heard you say, Martha, how are you? I’ve been invited to a party, come along. Let’s get together and do something. How’s the old love life, kid?
DAVE: What love life? You never go out.
MARTHA: Exactly.
DAVE: OK, I’m sorry. I’ll take more interest from now on, I really will. Hey, we’ll go to a movie. How’s that sound? But Martha, forget Megs. The guy is not up to your standards.
MARTHA: Has anyone ever been? My so-called standards, David, are merely something I’ve hidden behind so I could salvage a little pride. (Pause) Do you remember that cruise I went on last Easter break?
DAVE: Yeah. You got a nice tan.
MARTHA: It was a swinging singles cruise, a man for every maid. It was a ship filled with depressed, lonely people and I went hoping I might meet . . . what . . . a kindred soul, someone I liked, who liked me, anyone. And I might have. If I could have left my standards at dockside. But I was frightened and so when I went on board my standards walked right up the gangolank behind me. I got a nice tan.
DAVE: Martha, what, you’re pissed off you didn’t get laid?
MARTHA: Wouldn’t you have been?
DAVE: Yeah, but you?
MARTHA: Oh, I’m sorry. Shy, plain women don’t desire. When they’re in bed at night they keep their hands off themselves and don’t fantasize. (Pause) David, how many times have you made love?
DAVE: Hey, come on, huh?
MARTHA: Really. Fifteen times? Fifty times? One hundred?
DAVE: Gimme a break.
MARTHA: Good God, David, look at me! I’m almost the perfect image of the virgin schoolmarm. Tending other people’s children is supposed to make me feel chaste and noble and fulfilled. Bullshit. I feel helpless and very stupid. I’m not a nun. I wrote boys’ names in my notebooks when I was young. I prayed that they’d pull my hair so I’d pay attention to them.
DAVE: Kids don’t know shit.
MARTHA: Oh, David, they know. I watch them. Girls are always glancing about. Is anyone looking? Is a boy looking? They are. You call them to the blackboard and they struggle up, bent at the waist, pulling their sweaters down.
DAVE: God, Martha, you checkin’ out their boners?
MARTHA: You’re horrible. I’m just telling you that they know! When you see a boy walking a girl to class, his arm around her, his mouth close to her ear, you know they know. Why should it be too late for me? (Pause. DAVE suddenly giggles. SHE looks at him. HE laughs. SHE is annoyed) What?
DAVE: Uh . . . before. About being a virgin schoolmarm? You said almost. I mean, I never thought that you . . . uh, it never occurred to me that . . . (HE laughs) Who’d you get it on with? Anybody I know?
MARTHA: You just . . . that’s none of your business.
DAVE: Yeah, it is. Come on. Please?
MARTHA: Go away.
DAVE: Martha, I’m curious. Martha? Mar-tha? (HE is lau
ghing openly now)
MARTHA: Leave me alone.
DAVE: Loosen the strings, sis. Come on, gossip a little.
Pause.
MARTHA: William Green.
DAVE: Ichabod Crane? I don’t believe it. (HE laughs harder than ever)
MARTHA: That’s why it’s so hard for people like me. People like you make fun of someone’s rear end or waistline. You turn love into a beauty pageant. Stop laughing!
DAVE (Trying to stop but not succeeding): No! No! It’s not ’cause a the way you look.
MARTHA: Oh!
DAVE: It’s just that . . . I mean, you’re not what you’d call experienced. Are you? (HE laughs) No! And him . . . he was a shy guy and well . . . (HE laughs) Laurel and Hardy! This is another fine mess you’ve got me into! (HE laughs)
MARTHA: Oh, David, I could have died. Neither of us knew what we were doing. We were like two cars that had hooked bumpers . . . both of us pushing and pulling at the wrong times. And he kept apologizing the whole time. I’m terribly sorry. I think he’d hoped I’d changed my mind. (THEY laugh) I don’t know why I’m laughing . . . it was horrible. No passion. Guilt for him. Frustrated tears for me.
DAVE (Tenderly): I’m sorry, kiddo.
MARTHA: He asked me to marry him. He’d been in bed with me so he thought he should.
DAVE (Considering this a moment): Y’know, he wasn’t such a bad guy.
MARTHA (Bristling): Meaning I won’t get many chances? Meaning I’m not in any position to pick and choose?
DAVE: Here you go again.
MARTHA: I didn’t sleep with him so he’d marry me. We’d have made each other miserable. (Pause) Are you having dinner with us?
DAVE: Sis, you make dinner for Megs, he’ll latch onto you. He’ll be calling, coming by, telling me all sorts of crazy stuff. We won’t be able to get rid of him. You’re making a mistake, Martha.
MARTHA: It’s my mistake then.
DAVE: Jesus, Martha, why won’t you listen to me?! Do you know anything about men? No! You’d have a hard time handling the most perfect son of a bitch in the world, let alone this guy! (Pause) All right. All right. You’ll see. You’ll be beggin’ him to leave.
MARTHA: Go get cleaned up. You’ll feel better.
Pause.
DAVE (Softly): Is it really so bad here, Martha?
MARTHA: It’s not so bad.
DAVE: I love this place. Every good memory I have is here. (Pause) I like having you around here, Martha. (Pause) Listen, I’m gonna be more appreciative, you’ll see.
MARTHA: The things I want, you can’t give me, David.
DAVE: You’re gonna leave?
MARTHA: Someday. (Long pause) Go get cleaned up.
DAVE: Yeah. I got any clean clothes anywhere?
MARTHA: In the dryer.
DAVE (Preoccupied): Get’m for me, huh?
DAVE exits upstairs. MARTHA puts the finishing touches on her table. MEGS comes to the front door, HE has flowers which HE hides behind his back. HE is carrying a large bag.
MEGS (Knocking): Hello, it’s me! Front door!
MARTHA scurries around, checking everything to make sure it’s perfect. SHE checks her reflection in one of the windows. SHE hurries to the door, pauses, takes a deep breath, lets MEGS in.
MARTHA: Well now.
MEGS: Just a packhorse, that’s me. (HE displays the flowers, surprising MARTHA)
MARTHA: Oh, my.
MEGS: Like’m? I told the guy I was a white knight going to meet a fair damsel. Give me your best!
MARTHA: They’re beautiful.
MEGS: Wait. Here.
MARTHA: No!
MEGS: Yes! Candy.
MARTHA: Ohh . . .
MEGS: Just a mad seducer, that’s me. I got wine too. No idea what goes with what so I got one of every color: white, pink and blood red. And . . . this!
MARTHA: Brandy?
MEGS: If beer for breakfast is sunrise, brandy is sundown. (And doing a quick “bump and grind,” HE takes off his overcoat. HE is wearing a very wellmade, dark three-piece suit, a white shirt, a tie)
MARTHA: Look at you.
MEGS: It looked real good in the store window. I hardly ever get to wear it. I figured what the hell, prom night, y’know? (Pause) I’m real glad to be here, Martha.
MARTHA hesitates, then leans up and kisses MEGS on the cheek. Lights go to black.
Scene 2
MEGS and MARTHA are in the kitchen. Dinner has been finished. MEGS has taken off his jacket, loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves. HE sits at the table and sips wine. MARTHA is putting the finishing touches on cleanup.
MEGS: Martha, I feel like I fell asleep and woke up in the Waldorf Astoria.
MARTHA: Go on.
MEGS: I do. Steaks I usually eat are so bad, you put’m down knowin’ the restaurant’s gotta make up for it by givin’ you all the beer you can drink. (Pause) Come on, Martha, you sit down.
MARTHA: Joseph . . .
MEGS: Hush, hush, hush. Sit. Have another glass of this Parisian nectar. I’m finishing up here. I’m not taking no for an answer. These hands may finger-paint in axle grease by day but come nightfall they whisper messages to me. Clean us, Megs. Drown us in boraxo. Wash the bathtub or something. So I do. My hands like it.
MARTHA: You’re a funny man.
MEGS: I am, ain’t I? Aren’t. Aren’t I. Good wine?
MARTHA: Oh yes. I heartily approve. (Giggling) Listen to me. Such an expert. The tip of my nose has gone numb. I’ll be swinging from the chandeliers next. Oh, I want to wrap the steak in tinfoil for you so you can take it home.
MEGS: Hey, no way, Jose! That’s teacher’s lunch for two days.
MARTHA: You’re taking it.
MEGS: Oh, God, I’m being ordered again. How can I refuse?
MARTHA: You can’t.
MEGS: Are you sure?
MARTHA: I try not to eat lunch. You saw my picture in there. The Hindenburg. My idea of an exceptional Saturday night used to be two pounds of fudge and thirty term papers. I’ve finally eliminated the two pounds of fudge.
MEGS: And from all the right places too.
Pause.
MARTHA: This will be in the refrigerator. Don’t you forget it either. More wine?
MEGS: You?
MARTHA: Yes.
MEGS: Me too.
MARTHA: Why don’t you take the wine in the living room and get comfortable. I’ll be there in a moment.
MEGS enters the living room. MARTHA prepares a tray for the brandy: a cloth, snifters. MEGS is at the trophy case looking at MARTHA’s picture when DAVE comes downstairs.
MEGS: Hey, some dinner. Can your sister cook!
DAVE: Not bad.
MEGS: Come on, stud, your idea a cooking is to throw the meat in a pan, turn the flame on high and go and take a shower.
DAVE: Yeah . . . (HE moves to the kitchen)
MEGS: Hey! Listen, if she asks for my references, lie! Hah!? Hah!?
And MEGS punches DAVE affectionately in the belly. DAVE enters the kitchen. HE gets a beer from the icebox.
MARTHA: It’s going very well, don’t you think?
DAVE: Your steak was pretty good. A little rare for my taste.
MARTHA: You seemed to be enjoying yourself.
DAVE: I didn’t think either of you knew I was here. This is great, Martha. Terrific, Martha. Look at you, Martha. And you eating it up. I didn’t know who to laugh at.
MEGS: Hey, team captain, big number fifty, like Butkus!
DAVE: Enthusiastic, isn’t he?
MARTHA: Positive. Optimistic. It’s refreshing.
Pause.
DAVE: He’s a loser.
Pause. And MARTHA suddenly slams an open drawer shut with a loud bang.
MARTHA: You’re the loser, David. Ever since you came home. What is it like to aspire to nothing more than getting drunk on Saturday night?
DAVE: I aspire to be left the fuck alone!
MARTHA: By what? Life in general? Why even be a human being, David?
DAVE: Good question.
MARTHA: The idea of anyone finding anything, even for a moment, offends you, you selfish . . .
DAVE (Overlapping): I want you to see what he’s like!
MARTHA: I know what he’s like. He’s gentle and he’s kind and we’re having a wonderful time. He likes me. You didn’t have to threaten to beat him up if he didn’t.
DAVE: What?
MARTHA: The time you got me the prom date!
DAVE: Oh, God . . .
MARTHA: That was done out of generosity and love, feelings you’ve forgotten about. You’re willing to keep me in this house just so it won’t be empty on the rare occasions you decide to come home! Well, I’m moving, David. I’m leaving! Like Mother! All the tears she shed? Did you really think all of them were for Poppa? Most of them were for you! YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN DEAD TOO!
DAVE: How’d you like a slap in the mouth?
MARTHA: I—dare—you! (And picking up her tray SHE exits to the living room)
DAVE: You’re a shrew, Martha! You got the face of a football cleat and could use a series of shots for distemper! Him tellin’ you different doesn’t make it so! It doesn’t make it so!
MEGS: You shouldn’t, Davey.
DAVE: I shouldn’t what!?
MEGS: Talk to someone who loves you like that, you shouldn’t.
DAVE: I want you to tell me something, man . . .
MARTHA: You don’t have to tell him anything, Joseph . . .
DAVE: He does! Just what are you doin’, huh? You plannin’ on being lucky for my sister!? Like you were for me? Like you were for Bobby?
MARTHA: Just leave, David.
DAVE: He knows what I’m talking about.
MEGS: What bugs you, man? That you thought I was lucky? Or that you was so piss-assed scared, you grabbed hold a that luck like it was rosary beads?
DAVE: I’d give anything to know why it’s your face I’m staring at and not Bobby’s.
MEGS: Get fucked.
DAVE: He loved it, Martha! He ate it up! Get some! Get some a them gooks! Bap-bap-bap-bap-bap-bap! Blow’m away! Nothin’ confusin’ about that, huh, Jacknife?
MEGS: It was heartbreaking the things I did. I’ll live my whole life being sorry for’m.
DAVE: But you loved it! You never had it so good. It was logical to you. And you just had to carry Bobby and me right along with you.
MEGS: Not Bobby, man. Bobby understood.
DAVE: Bobby is dead! Man! When you gonna remember that!?