Broken Glass

by Arthur Miller

  SYLVIA, open surprise: Relations?

  HYMAN: He said you did the other night.

  SYLVIA: We had relations the other night?

  HYMAN: But that... well he said that by morning you’d forgotten. Is that true?

  She is motionless, looking past him with immense uncertainty.

  SYLVIA, alarmed sense of rejection: Why are you asking me that?

  HYMAN: I didn’t know what to make of it.... I guess I still don’t.

  SYLVIA, deeply embarrassed: You mean you believe him?

  HYMAN: Well ... I didn’t know what to believe.

  SYLVIA: You must think I’m crazy, -to forget such a thing.

  HYMAN: Oh God no!—I didn’t mean anything like that...

  SYLVIA: We haven’t had relations for almost twenty years.

  The shock pitches him into silence. Now he doesn’t know what or whom to believe.

  HYMAN: Twenty... ? Breaks off.

  SYLVIA: Just after Jerome was born.

  HYMAN: I just... I don’t know what to say, Sylvia.

  SYLVIA: You never heard of it before with people?

  HYMAN: Yes, but not when they’re as young as you.

  SYLVIA: You might be surprised.

  HYMAN: What was it, another woman, or what?

  SYLVIA: Oh no.

  HYMAN: Then what happened?

  SYLVIA: I don’t know, I never understood it. He just couldn’t anymore.

  She tries to read his reaction; he doesn’t face her directly.

  You believe me, don’t you?

  HYMAN: Of course I do. But why would he invent a story like that?

  SYLVIA, incredulously: I can’t imagine.... Could he be trying to ... Breaks off.

  HYMAN: What.

  SYLVIA: ... Make you think I’ve gone crazy?

  HYMAN: No, you mustn’t believe that. I think maybe... you see, he mentioned my so-called reputation with women, and maybe he was just trying to look... I don’t know-competitive. How did this start? Was there some reason?

  SYLVIA: I think I made one mistake. He hadn’t come near me for like—I don’t remember anymore—a month maybe; and... I was so young... a man to me was so much stronger that I couldn’t imagine I could ... you know, hurt him like that.

  HYMAN: Like what?

  SYLVIA: Well... Small laugh. I was so stupid, I’m still ashamed of it... I mentioned it to my father-who loved Phillip—and he took him aside and tried to suggest a doctor. I should never have mentioned it, it was a terrible mistake, for a while I thought we’d have to have a divorce ... it was months before he could say good morning, he was so furious. I finally got him to go with me to Rabbi Steiner, but he just sat there like a ... She sighs, shakes her head.—I don’t know, I guess you just gradually give up and it closes over you like a grave. But I can’t help it, I still pity him; because I know how it tortures him, it’s like a snake eating into his heart.... I mean it’s not as though he doesn’t like me, he does, I know it.—Or do you think so?

  HYMAN: He says you’re his whole life.

  She is staring, shaking her head, stunned.

  SYLVIA, with bitter irony: His whole life! Poor Phillip.

  HYMAN: I’ve been talking to a friend of mine at the hospital, a psychiatrist. I want your permission to bring him in; I’ll call you in the morning.

  SYLVIA, instantly: Why must you leave? I’m nervous now.

  Can’t you talk to me a few minutes? I have some yeast cake. I’ll make fresh coffee...

  HYMAN: I’d love to stay but Margaret’ll be upset with me.

  SYLVIA: Oh. Well call her! Ask her to come over too.

  HYMAN: No-no...

  SYLVIA, a sudden anxiety burst, colored by her feminine disappointment: For God’s sake, why not!

  HYMAN: She thinks something’s going on with us.

  SYLVIA, pleased surprise-and worriedly: Oh!

  HYMAN: I’ll be in touch tomorrow...

  SYLVIA: Couldn’t you just be here when he comes. I’m nervous—please—just be here when he comes.

  Her anxiety forces him back down on the bed. She takes his hand.

  HYMAN: You don’t think he’d do something, do you?

  SYLVIA: I’ve never known him so angry.—And I think there’s also some trouble with Mr. Case. Phillip can hit, you know. Shakes her head. God, everything’s so mixed up! Pause. She sits there shaking her head, then lifts the newspaper. But I don’t understand-they write that the Germans are starting to pick up Jews right off the street and putting them into...

  HYMAN, impatience: Now Sylvia, I told you...

  SYLVIA: But you say they were such nice people—how could they change like this!

  HYMAN: This will all pass, Sylvia! German music and literature is some of the greatest in the world; it’s impossible for those people to suddenly change into thugs like this. So you ought to have more confidence, you see?—I mean in general, in life, in people.

  She stares at him, becoming transformed.

  HYMAN: What are you telling me? Just say what you’re thinking right now.

  SYLVIA, struggling: I ... I ...

  HYMAN: Don’t be frightened, just say it.

  SYLVIA, she has become terrified: You.

  HYMAN: Me! What about me?

  SYLVIA: How could you believe I forgot we had relations!

  HYMAN, her persistent intensity unnerving him: Now stop that! I was only trying to understand what is happening.

  SYLVIA: Yes, And what? What is happening?

  HYMAN, forcefully, contained: ... What are you trying to tell me?

  SYLVIA: Well ... what...

  Everything is flying apart for her; she lifts the edge of the newspaper; the focus is clearly far wider than the room. An unbearable anxiety ...

  What is going to become of us?

  HYMAN, indicting the paper: -But what has Germany got to do with... ?

  SYLVIA, shouting; his incomprehension dangerous: But how can those nice people go out and pick Jews off the street in the middle of a big city like that, and nobody stops them... ?

  HYMAN: You mean I’ve changed? Is that it?

  SYLVIA: I don’t know... one minute you say you like me and then you turn around and I’m ...

  HYMAN: Listen, I simply must call in somebody...

  SYLVIA: No! You could help me if you believed me!

  HYMAN, his spine tingling with her fear; a shout: I do believe you!

  SYLVIA: No!—you’re not going to put me away somewhere!

  HYMAN, a horrified shout: Now you stop being ridiculous!

  SYLVIA: But... but what... what... Gripping her head; his uncertainty terrifying her: What will become of us!

  HYMAN, unnerved: Now stop it—you are confusing two things... !

  SYLVIA: But... from now on ... you mean if a Jew walks out of his house, do they arrest him... ?

  HYMAN: I’m telling you this won’t last.

  SYLVIA, with a weird, blind, violent persistence: But what do they do with them?

  HYMAN: I don’t know! I’m out of my depth! I can’t help you!

  SYLVIA: But why don’t they run out of the country! What is the matter with those people! Don’t you understand ... ? Screaming: ... This is an emergency! What if they kill those children! Where is Roosevelt! Where is England! Somebody should do something before they murder us all!

  Sylvia takes a step off the edge of the bed in an hysterical attempt to reach Hyman and the power he represents. She collapses on the floor before he can catch her. Trying to rouse her from her faint ...

  HYMAN: Sylvia? Sylvia!

  Gellburg enters.

  GELLBURG: What happened!

  HYMAN: Run cold water on a towel!

  GELLBURG: What happened!

  HYMAN: Do it, goddam you!

  Gellburg rushes out.

  Sylvia!—oh good, that’s it, keep looking at me, that’s it dear, keep your eyes open...

  He lifts her up onto the bed as Gellburg hurries in with a towel. Gellburg gives it to Hyman, who presse
s it onto her forehead and back of her neck.

  There we are, that’s better, how do you feel? Can you speak? You want to sit up? Come.

  He helps her to sit up. She looks around and then at Gellburg.

  GELLBURG, to Hyman: Did she call you?

  HYMAN, hesitates; and in an angry tone: ... Well no, to tell the truth.

  GELLBURG: Then what are you doing here?

  HYMAN: I stopped by, I was worried about her.

  GELLBURG: You were worried about her. Why were you worried about her?

  HYMAN, anger is suddenly sweeping him: Because she is desperate to be loved.

  GELLBURG, off guard, astonished: You don’t say!

  HYMAN: Yes, I do say. To her: I want you to try to move your legs. Try it.

  She tries; nothing happens.

  I’ll be at home if you need me; don’t be afraid to call anytime. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow. Good night.

  SYLVIA, faintly, afraid: Good night.

  Hyman gives Gellburg a quick, outraged glance, Hyman leaves.

  GELLBURG, reaching for his authority: That’s some attitude he’s got, ordering me around like that. I’m going to see about getting somebody else tomorrow. Jersey seems to get further and further away, I’m exhausted.

  SYLVIA: I almost started walking.

  GELLBURG: What are you talking about?

  SYLVIA: For a minute. I don’t know what happened, my strength, it started to come back.

  GELLBURG: I knew it! I told you you could! Try it again, come.

  SYLVIA, she tries to raise her legs: I can’t now.

  GELLBURG: Why not! Come, this is wonderful... ! Reaches for her.

  SYLVIA: Phillip, listen... I don’t want to change, I want Hyman.

  GELLBURG, his purse-mouthed grin: What’s so good about him?—you’re still laying there, practically dead to the world.

  SYLVIA: He helped me get up, I don’t know why. I feel he can get me walking again.

  GELLBURG: Why does it have to be him?

  SYLVIA: Because I can talk to him! I want him. An outburst:

  And I don’t want to discuss it again!

  GELLBURG: Well we’ll see.

  SYLVIA: We will not see!

  GELLBURG: What’s this tone of voice?

  SYLVIA, trembling out of control: It’s a Jewish woman’s tone of voice!

  GELLBURG: A Jewish woman... ! What are you talking about, are you crazy?

  SYLVIA: Don’t you call me crazy, Phillip! I’m talking about it! They are smashing windows and beating children! I am talking about it! Screams at him: I am talking about it, Phillip!

  She grips her head in her confusion. He is stock still; horrified, fearful.

  GELLBURG: What... “beating children”?

  SYLVIA: Never mind. Don’t sleep with me again.

  GELLBURG: How can you say that to me?

  SYLVIA: I can’t bear it. You give me terrible dreams. I’m sorry, Phillip. Maybe in a while but not now.

  GELLBURG: Sylvia, you will kill me if we can’t be together ...

  SYLVIA: You told him we had relations?

  GELLBURG, beginning to weep: Don’t, Sylvia ... !

  SYLVIA: You little liar!—you want him to think I’m crazy? Is that it? Now she breaks into weeping.

  GELLBURG: No! It just... it came out, I didn’t know what I was saying!

  SYLVIA: That I forgot we had relations?! Phillip?

  GELLBURG: Stop that! Don’t say anymore.

  SYLVIA: I’m going to say anything I want to.

  GELLBURG, weeping: You will kill me ... !

  They are silent for a moment.

  SYLVIA: What I did with my life! Out of ignorance. Out of not wanting to shame you in front of other people. A whole life. Gave it away like a couple of pennies—I took better care of my shoes. Turns to him.—You want to talk to me about it now? Take me seriously, Phillip. What happened? I know it’s all you ever thought about, isn’t that true? What happened? Just so I’ll know.

  A long pause.

  GELLBURG: I’m ashamed to mention it. It’s ridiculous.

  SYLVIA: What are you talking about?

  GELLBURG: But I was ignorant, I couldn’t help myself. - When you said you wanted to go back to the firm.

  SYLVIA: What are you talking about?-When?

  GELLBURG: When you had Jerome... and suddenly you didn’t want to keep the house anymore.

  SYLVIA: And?—You didn’t want me to go back to business, so I didn’t.

  He doesn’t speak; her rage an inch below.

  Well what? I didn’t, did I?

  GELLBURG: You held it against me, having to stay home, you know you did. You’ve probably forgotten, but not a day passed, not a person could come into this house that you didn’t keep saying how wonderful and interesting it used to be for you in business. You never forgave me, Sylvia.

  She evades his gaze.

  So whenever I ... when I started to touch you, I felt that.

  SYLVIA: You felt what?

  GELLBURG: That you didn’t want me to be the man here. And then, on top of that when you didn’t want any more children... everything inside me just dried up. And maybe it was also that to me it was a miracle you ever married me in the first place.

  SYLVIA: You mean your face?

  He turns slightly.

  What have you got against your face? A Jew can have a Jewish face.

  Pause.

  GELLBURG: I can’t help my thoughts, nobody can.... I admit it was a mistake, I tried a hundred times to talk to you, but I couldn’t. I kept waiting for myself to change. Or you. And then we got to where it didn’t seem to matter anymore. So I left it that way. And I couldn’t change anything anymore.

  Pause.

  SYLVIA: This is a whole life we’re talking about.

  GELLBURG: But couldn’t we ... if I taught you to drive and you could go anywhere you liked.... Or maybe you could find a position you liked... ?

  She is staring ahead.

  We have to sleep together.

  SYLVIA: No.

  Gellburg drops to his knees beside the bed, his arms spread awkwardly over her covered body.

  GELLBURG: How can this be?

  She is motionless.

  Sylvia? Pause. Do you want to kill me?

  She is staring ahead, he is weeping and shouting.

  Is that it! Speak to me!

  Sylvia’s face is blank, unreadable. He buries his face in the covers, weeping helplessly. She at last reaches out in pity toward the top of his head, and as her hand almost touches...

  Blackout.

  SCENE THREE

  Case’s office. Gellburg is seated alone. Case enters, shuffling through a handful of mail. Gellburg has gotten to his feet. Case’s manner is cold; barely glances up from his mail.

  CASE: Good morning, Gellburg.

  GELLBURG: Good morning, Mr. Case.

  CASE: I understand you wish to see me.

  GELLBURG: There was just something I felt I should say.

  CASE: Certainly. He goes to a chair and sits. Yes?

  GELLBURG: It’s just that I would never in this world do anything against you or Brooklyn Guarantee. I don’t have to tell you, it’s the only place I’ve ever worked in my life. My whole life is here. I’m more proud of this company than almost anything except my own son. What I’m trying to say is that this whole business with Wanamaker’s was only because I didn’t want to leave a stone unturned. Two or three years from now I didn’t want you waking up one morning and Wanamaker’s is gone and there you are paying New York taxes on a building in the middle of a dying neighborhood.