My Sister's Hand in Mine (28 page)

“She says that she does not know when she is coming down, and if she is not here by the time you feel like leaving, I am to return home with you, or all alone by myself. It's happened to me now, hasn't it? But the beauty of me is that I am only a step from desperation all the time and I am one of the few people I know who could perform an act of violence with the greatest of ease.”

She waved her hand over her head.

“Acts of violence are generally performed with ease,” said Miss Goering. She was at this point completely disgusted with Mrs. Copperfield, who rose from her seat and walked in a crooked path over to the bar. There she stood taking drink after drink without turning her little head which was almost completely hidden by the enormous fur collar on her coat.

Miss Goering went up to Mrs. Copperfield just once, thinking that she might persuade her friend to return to the table. But Mrs. Copperfield showed a furious tear-stained face to Miss Goering and flung her arm out sideways, striking Miss Goering in the nose with her forearm. Miss Goering returned to her seat and sat nursing her nose.

To her great surprise, about twenty minutes later Pacifica arrived, accompanied by her young man. She introduced him to Miss Goering and then hurried over to the bar. The young man stood with his hands in his pockets and looked around him rather awkwardly.

“Sit down,” said Miss Goering. “I thought that Pacifica was not coming.”

“She was not coming,” he answered very slowly, “but then she decided that she would come because she was worried that her friend would be upset.”

“Mrs. Copperfield is a highly strung woman, I am afraid,” said Miss Goering.

“I don't know her very well,” he answered discreetly.

Pacifica returned from the bar with Mrs. Copperfield, who was now terribly gay and wanted to order drinks for everyone. But neither the boy nor Pacifica would accept her offer. The boy looked very sad and soon excused himself, saying that he had only intended to see Pacifica to the restaurant and then return to his home. Mrs. Copperfield decided to accompany him to the door, patting his hand all the way and stumbling so badly that he was obliged to slip his arm around her waist to keep her from falling. Pacifica, meanwhile, leaned over to Miss Goering.

“It is terrible,” she said. “What a baby your friend is! I can't leave her for ten minutes because it almost breaks her heart, and she is such a kind and generous woman, with such a beautiful apartment and such beautiful clothes. What can I do with her? She is like a little baby. I tried to explain it to my young man, but I can't explain it really to anyone.”

Mrs. Copperfield returned and suggested that they all go elsewhere to get some food.

“I can't,” said Miss Goering, lowering her eyes. “I have an appointment with a gentleman.” She would have liked to talk to Pacifica a little longer. In some ways Pacifica reminded her of Miss Gamelon although certainly Pacifica was a much nicer person and more attractive physically. At this moment she noticed that Ben and his friends were putting on their coats and getting ready to leave. She hesitated only a second and then hurriedly said good-by to Pacifica and Mrs. Copperfield. She was just drawing her wrap over her shoulders when, to her surprise, she saw the four men walk very rapidly towards the door, right past her table. Ben made no sign to her.

“He must be coming back,” she thought, but she decided to go into the hall. They were not in the hall, so she opened the door and stood on the stoop. From there she saw them all get into Ben's black car. Ben was the last one to get in, and just as he stepped on the running board, he turned his head around and saw Miss Goering.

“Hey,” he said, “I forgot about you. I've got to go big distances on some important business. I don't know when I'll be back. Good-by.”

He slammed the door behind him and they drove off. Miss Goering began to descend the stone steps. The long staircase seemed short to her, like a dream that is remembered long after it has been dreamed.

She stood on the street and waited to be overcome with joy and relief. But soon she was aware of a new sadness within herself. Hope, she felt, had discarded a childish form forever.

“Certainly I am nearer to becoming a saint,” reflected Miss Goering, “but is it possible that a part of me hidden from my sight is piling sin upon sin as fast as Mrs. Copperfield?” This latter possibility Miss Goering thought to be of considerable interest but of no great importance.

In the Summer House

 

 

 

FOR OLIVER SMITH

 

 

In the Summer House
was presented at the Playhouse Theatre in New York on December 29, 1953, by Oliver Smith and the Playwrights' Company. It was directed by José Quintero with the following cast:

GERTRUDE EASTMAN CUEVAS
 •  Judith Anderson

MOLLY
,
her daughter
• Elizabeth Ross

MR. SOLARES
 •  Don Mayo

MRS. LOPEZ
 •  Marita Reid

FREDERICA
 •  Miriam Colon

ESPERANZA
 •  Isabel Morel

ALTA GRACIA
 •  Marjorie Eaton

QUINTINA
 •  Phoebe Mackay

LIONEL
 •  Logan Ramsey

A FIGURE BEARER
 •  Paul Bertelsen

ANOTHER FIGURE BEARER
 •  George Spelvin

VIVIAN CONSTABLE
 •  Muriel Berkson

CHAUFFEUR
 •  Daniel Morales

MRS. CONSTABLE
 •  Mildred Dunnock

INEZ
 •  Jean Stapleton

 

Scenery
 •  Oliver Smith

Costumes
 •  Noel Taylor

Music
 •  Paul Bowles

Lighting
 •  Peggy Clark

Associate Producer
 •  Lyn Austin

 

 

SCENES

ACT I

Scene i
   •  Gertrude Eastman Cuevas' garden on the coast, Southern California

Scene ii
  •  The beach. One month later

Scene iii
 •  The garden. One month later

ACT II

Scene i
   •  The Lobster Bowl. Ten months later, before dawn

Scene ii
  •  The same. Two months later, late afternoon

Time: the present

Act One

Scene i

GERTRUDE EASTMAN CUEVAS'
garden somewhere on the coast of Southern California. The garden is a mess, with ragged cactus plants and broken ornaments scattered about. A low hedge at the back of the set separates the garden from a dirt lane which supposedly leads to the main road. Beyond the lane is the beach and the sea. The side of the house and the front door are visible. A low balcony hangs over the garden. In the garden itself there is a round summer house covered with vines.

 

GERTRUDE
(
A beautiful middle-aged woman with sharply defined features, a good carriage and bright red hair. She is dressed in a tacky provincial fashion. Her voice is tense but resonant. She is seated on the balcony
) Are you in the summer house?

(
MOLLY
,
a girl of eighteen with straight black hair cut in bangs and a somnolent impassive face, does not hear
GERTRUDE
's question but remains in the summer house.
GERTRUDE
,
repeating, goes to railing
)

Are you in the summer house?

MOLLY
  Yes, I am.

GERTRUDE
  If I believed in acts of violence, I would burn the summer house down. You love to get in there and loll about hour after hour. You can't even see out because those vines hide the view. Why don't you find a good flat rock overlooking the ocean and sit on it? (
MOLLY
fingers the vine
) As long as you're so indifferent to the beauties of nature, I should think you would interest yourself in political affairs, or in music or painting or at least in the future. But I've said this to you at least a thousand times before. You admit you relax too much?

MOLLY
  I guess I do.

GERTRUDE
We already have to take in occasional boarders to help make ends meet. As the years go by the boarders will increase, and I can barely put up with the few that come here now; I'm not temperamentally suited to boarders. Nor am I interested in whether this should be considered a character defect or not. I simply hate gossiping with strangers and I don't want to listen to their business. I never have and I never will. It disgusts me. Even my own flesh and blood saps my vitality—particularly you. You seem to have developed such a slow and gloomy way of walking lately … not at all becoming to a girl. Don't you think you could correct your walk?

MOLLY
  I'm trying. I'm trying to correct it.

GERTRUDE
I'm thinking seriously of marrying Mr. Solares, after all. I would at least have a life free of financial worry if I did, and I'm sure I could gradually ease his sister, Mrs. Lopez, out of the house because she certainly gets on my nerves. He's a manageable man and Spanish men aren't around the house much, which is a blessing. They're always out … not getting intoxicated or having a wild time … just out … sitting around with bunches of other men … Spanish men … Cubans, Mexicans … I don't know … They're all alike, drinking little cups of coffee and jabbering away to each other for hours on end. That was your father's life anyway. I minded then. I minded terribly, not so much because he left me alone, but he wasn't in his office for more than a few hours a day … and he wasn't rich enough, not like Mr. Solares. I lectured him in the beginning. I lectured him on ambition, on making contacts, on developing his personality. Often at night I was quite hoarse. I worked on him steadily, trying to make him worry about sugar. I warned him he was letting his father's interests go to pot. Nothing helped. He refused to worry about sugar; he refused to worry about anything. (
She knits a moment in silence
) I lost interest finally. I lost interest in sugar … in him. I lost interest in our life together. I wanted to give it all up … start out fresh, but I couldn't. I was carrying you. I had no choice. All my hopes were wrapped up in you then, all of them. You were my reason for going on, my one and only hope … my love. (
She knits furiously. Then, craning her neck to look in the summer house, she gets up and goes to the rail
) Are you asleep in there, or are you reading comic strips?

MOLLY
  I'm not asleep.

GERTRUDE
Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you. It frightens me … I feel that you are plotting something. Especially when you get inside that summer house. I think your black hair helps me to feel that way. Whenever I think of a woman going wild, I always picture her with black hair, never blond or red. I know that what I'm saying has no connection with a scientific truth. It's very personal. They say red-haired women go wild a lot but I never picture it that way. Do you?

MOLLY
  I don't guess I've ever pictured women going wild.

GERTRUDE
And why not? They do all the time. They break the bonds … Sometimes I picture little scenes where they turn evil like wolves … (
Shuddering
) I don't choose to, but I do all the same.

MOLLY
  I've never seen a wild woman.

GERTRUDE
(
Music
) On the other hand, sometimes I wake up at night with a strange feeling of isolation … as if I'd fallen off the cliffs and landed miles away from everything that was close to my heart … Even my griefs and my sorrows don't seem to belong to me. Nothing does—as if a shadow had passed over my whole life and made it dark. I try saying my name aloud, over and over again, but it doesn't hook things together. Whenever I feel that way I put my wrapper on and I go down into the kitchen. I open the ice chest and take out some fizzy water. Then I sit at the table with the light switched on and by and by I feel all right again. (
The music fades. Then in a more matter-of-fact tone
) There is no doubt that each one of us has to put up with a shadow or two as he grows older. But if we occupy ourselves while the shadow passes, it passes swiftly enough and scarcely leaves a trace of our daily lives … (
She knits for a moment. Then looks up the road
) The girl who is coming here this afternoon is about seventeen. She should be arriving pretty soon. I also think that Mr. Solares will be arriving shortly and that he'll be bringing one of his hot picnic luncheons with him today. I can feel it in my bones. It's disgraceful of me, really, to allow him to feed us on our own lawn, but then, their mouths count up to six, while ours count up to only two. So actually it's only half a disgrace. I hope Mr. Solares realizes that. Besides, I might be driven to accepting his marriage offer and then the chicken would be in the same pot anyway. Don't you agree?

MOLLY
  Yes.

GERTRUDE
You don't seem very interested in what I'm saying.

MOLLY
  Well, I …

GERTRUDE
I think that you should be more of a conversationalist. You never express an opinion, nor do you seem to have an outlook. What on earth is your outlook?

MOLLY
  (
Uncertainly
) Democracy …

GERTRUDE
I don't think you feel very strongly about it. You don't listen to the various commentators, nor do you ever glance at the newspapers. It's very easy to say that one is democratic, but that doesn't prevent one from being a slob if one is a slob. I've never permitted myself to become a slob, even though I sit home all the time and avoid the outside world as much as possible. I've never liked going out any more than my father did. He always avoided the outside world. He hated a lot of idle gossip and had no use for people anyway. “Let the world do its dancing and its drinking and its interkilling without me,” he always said. “They'll manage perfectly well; I'll stick to myself and my work.” (
The music comes up again and she is lost in a dream
) When I was a little girl I made up my mind that I was going to be just like him. He was my model, my ideal. I admired him more than anyone on earth. And he admired me of course. I was so much like him—ambitious, defiant, a fighting cock always. I worshipped him. But I was never meek, not like Ellen my sister. She was very frail and delicate. My father used to put his arms around her, and play with her hair, long golden curls … Ellen was the weak one. That's why he spoiled her. He pitied Ellen. (
With wonder, and very delicately, as if afraid to break a spell. The music expresses the sorrow she is hiding from herself
) Once he took her out of school, when she was ten years old. He bought her a little fur hat and they went away together for two whole weeks. I was left behind. I had no reason to leave school. I was healthy and strong. He took her to a big hotel on the edge of a lake. The lake was frozen, and they sat in the sunshine all day long, watching the people skate. When they came back he said, “Look at her, look at Ellen. She has roses in her cheeks.” He pitied Ellen, but he was proud of me. I was his true love. He never showed it … He was so frightened Ellen would guess. He didn't want her to be jealous, but I knew the truth … He didn't have to show it. He didn't have to say anything. (
The music fades and she knits furiously, coming back to the present
) Why don't you go inside and clean up? It might sharpen your wits. Go and change that rumpled dress.