Red-Dirt Marijuana: And Other Tastes (18 page)

FRAU KAFKA
:
[Angrily.] Franz!

FRANZ
: Oh well.
[He draws his coat back on, extracts the paper from the pocket, hands it to her, and continues lamely.]
I’ll give you the paper first, and then I’ll
[his voice trails away to become almost inaudible as he removes coat and turns his back to the audience in hanging it up] .
. . take . . . off . . . the . . . coat.

FRAU KAFKA
:
[Crossing to her chair with the paper, she sits down and unfolds it.] Where?
Where
is
it?

FRANZ
: Page five, column two, under the heading “Apartments to Exchange.”
[He looks about the room, uncertain what to do next, glances at his watch, checks it against the mantel clock, then crosses to the writing-desk, stage left, sits down, cautiously withdraws a small notebook from his breast coat pocket, opens it, and studies the page.]

FRAU KAFKA
:
[Avidly scrutinizing a small section of the paper.]
Where is it, Franz? There’s nothing
here! Nothing!

FRANZ
:
[Calmly.]
It is the one entry, on page five, column two,
under . . . [he pauses and speaks tentatively]
. . . no,
beneath .
. . yes,
beneath
the heading “Apartments to Exchange.”

FRAU KAFKA
:
Good God!

FRANZ
:
[Speechless, he merely frowns, staring at his mother.]

FRAU KAFKA
: [
Incredulous
.]
This .
. .
this
is the ad you put in?

FRANZ
: Naturally I can only assume you are referring to the entry which I indicated earlier in the conversation; if this is so—

FRAU KAFKA
:
[Quite beside herself.] This
is what you spent all day yesterday and half the night writing and rewriting?

FRANZ
:
[With soft, dreamy pride.]
There was some rewriting, granted, but I
think
you’ll find that the—

FRAU KAFKA
: Why, it’s senseless! Senseless and incomprehensible!

FRANZ
: If by ‘senseless’ you mean—

FRAU KAFKA
: Good Lord, Franz, you’ve written and rewritten all meaning out of the thing!

FRANZ
:
[With a frown of patience.]
You’re wrong on that count, Mother . . . unless by “meaning” you want to imply that the—

FRAU KAFKA
: You say “tersely parallax!” Why in God’s name did you have to say a thing like that? [
She begins to read from the ad slowly, in outraged astonishment.
] “I think it is fair to imply, and yet by using the word ‘imply’ I would not wish to suggest, or rather to limit
the
suggestion to that of mere
suggestion,
even though in the strict sense of the word it may well . . .” [
She breaks off the reading and strikes her head in anguish.
] Oh God!
More money down the drain!

FRANZ
:
[With great patience.]
I realize that you speak in a metaphorical sense when you—

[There is a knock at the door.]

FRAU KAFKA
: Well, get the
door!
Just stand up, walk over, and open it!

FRANZ
: [
Uncertain whether to put his notebook on the desk or in his pocket, he thumbs through it briefly, then decisively lays it aside, gets up, goes for the door; halfway there, he returns abruptly to the desk, picks up the notebook as though to pocket it, has second thoughts about this, lays it aside again and goes to the door. His mother has buried her face in her hands in anguished exasperation.
FRANZ
speaks briskly.]
Right!
[He opens the door,
DOCTOR FREUD
enters.]

DOCTOR FREUD
:
[Grandly.]
You are Herr
Kafka?

FRANZ
:
[Firmly, after having considered it for a second.]
Yes. Yes, that is true.

DOCTOR FREUD
: Good! I am Doctor Freud—Doctor Sigmund Freud! Of Vienna! I have come about the advertisement in today’s paper
An apartment to exchange! [He scrutinizes
FRANZ
,
twinkling.]

FRANZ
: Please come in. [
DOCTOR FREUD
sweeps into the room.
]

FRAU KAFKA
:
[Demanding.]
What
is
it, Franz?

FRANZ
:
[Rather smugly.]
Only what one might have expected—a
response
to the advertisement, which, if I may say so, would seem to bear out my—
[Realizes he has not introduced them.]
I beg your pardon. This is my mother, this is Doctor . . . Doctor . . . I’m afraid I didn’t get—

DOCTOR FREUD
:
[Adjusting his spectacles, he studies
FRANZ
interestedly.] Afraid,
Franz?
Why
are you afraid?
[He turns to
FRAU KAFKA
.] Doctor Sigmund Freud, Madame. Of Vienna!
[He takes her hand and bows with Old World grace.]

FRAU KAFKA
:
[Charmed.]
Gay Vienna!

DOCTOR FREUD
: [
With jovial mischief.
] Ah yes,
Gay Vienna!
Heh-heh-heh! Yes, yes, quite so!
[He rubs his hands, savoring the image, adjusts his spectacles once more, studying
FRAU KAFKA
.] And you are the
mother!
Yes, of course!

FRANZ
:
[Musing gravely.]
All the way from Vienna, and so
soon.
Granted I had certain hopes for the advertisement, and yet I never
dreamed
. . .

DOCTOR FREUD
:
[Shrewdly.]
Never
what,
Franz? Hmmm?

FRANZ
:
[Slightly taken aback.]
No, of course I wouldn’t have
dreamed
it, would I?
[He laughs nervously.]
The image was unfortunate, granted, and yet—

DOCTOR FREUD
: [
Interrupting, briskly.
] Now as I interpret your advertisement—and may I say
[smiles mischievously]
that
interpretation
is, hee-hee, scarcely my weakest suit—as
I
interpret that advertisement, you wish to exchange
this
apartment for a
larger
one, hmm? [
He eyes
FRANZ
significantly.
] And preferably in the same part of the city? Is that correct?

FRANZ
:
[With care.]
Yes, in essence, or rather in substance, I think it is fair to say—

FRAU KAFKA
:
[Very strongly.]
That is
precisely
correct, Doctor!

DOCTOR FREUD
: [
He nods darkly.
] I see. [
He continues to study both for a moment, then shrugs, as though somewhat let down that they have apparently failed to grasp certain hidden meanings at hand; he begins pacing about the room, looking it over.
] Very well then, let’s have a
look
at this room. Hmmm, yes, very . . .
compact!
Very
orderly!
Good, I’m
looking
for an orderly place. I have quite a few ideas that need
putting in order,
yes indeed,
quite a few!

FRAU KAFKA
:
[Piously.]
You’ll find it a
clean
house, Doctor. I somehow manage that
[gives
FRANZ
a sharp look]
in spite of everything.

DOCTOR FREUD
:
[Nodding agreement as he continues to pace about.]
Clean, yes . . . and
[stops to face them both, raising a finger and arching his brows as though to call attention to something overlooked] and
COZY! Eh? heh heh. Hmmm. Yes, small, clean, and
warm! [He glances from one to the other, twinkling.]
And when the lights are
out,
hmmm? . . . Then it’s
dark
as well.
[Casually, but with a knowing smile.]
Small, dark, and warm.
[Directly to
FRANZ
]
Nice,
a room like that, eh Franz?

FRANZ
:
[After a second.]
Without pretending that my own opinion is necessarily definitive, I
do
think, or rather
do
have reason to think—that is to say, to
believe
that such a room as you describe,
this
room, in fact, may—

DOCTOR FREUD
:
[Having resumed his pacing about, he has reached the writing-desk where he now picks up the notebook
FRANZ
has left there and begins leafing through it avidly,
FRANZ
rushes over.]

FRANZ
: [
Desperately.
] Doctor Freud, I must
forbid
. . . [
He snatches at the notebook, which
FREUD
holds away at arm’s length, and attempts to continue reading,
FRANZ
struggles with him, looks back over his shoulder, and shouts:
]
Mother!

FRAU KAFKA
:
[The two men are quite near to upsetting one of the lamps; she rushes toward them, screaming;
] The
lamp!
For God’s sake,
watch out for the lamp! [With this outburst,
DOCTOR FREUD
relinquishes the notebook, adjusts his spectacles, and gazes interestedly at
FRANZ. FRANZ
,
notebook in his hand, makes adjustments to his clothes; he seems somewhat sheepish at having displayed that much emotion and avoids the Doctor’s eyes. During their silence—which is uneasy on Kafka’s part, intently scrutinizing on Freud’s—
FRAU KAFKA
rants about the lamp.]
Thank Heaven! One of my most cherished pieces. Twelve kroner it cost, in
der Schwindelstrasse! [Suddenly she turns to
DOCTOR FREUD
.] Of course, Doctor, you realize that we would be taking
our things [she indicates the bric-a-brac in a gesture] with
us.
Objets d’art! This
collection, modest enough I suppose in some eyes, was begun . . . by
Papa. [She has crossed over to the mantel where she gazes reverently at one of the photographs. She turns back to
DOCTOR FREUD
,
who, in his intent scrutiny of
FRANZ
,
appears not to have heard anything she said.]
I say you
do
understand, don’t you Doctor, that the
collection
does
not
go with the apartment?

DOCTOR FREUD
:
[He looks at her dully, nods, turns back at once to
FRANZ
.
There is a long pause, before he asks, narrowly, darkly:] Why so secretive, Franz?

FRANZ
:
[As though he has considered the possibility of this question, he shakes his head quickly in denial.]
I regret, Doctor, that I cannot accept such a usage of the term in the context you have given it—I say
“regret”
for this reason: namely that—

FRAU KAFKA
:
[Interrupting irately.]
Franz is about half
off his rocker,
Doctor Freud, can’t you tell that? [
FRANZ
stares at his mother furiously, as though he may challenge something in the syntax of what she has said,
DOCTOR FREUD
expresses immediate interest and crosses over to where she is now seated in the armchair.]

DOCTOR FREUD
: Off his
rocker?
What do you mean by that?

FRAU KAFKA
: Good God, don’t you know what that means? [
She takes a finger and rotates it near her temple.
]

DOCTOR FREUD
:
[Impatiently.]
Yes, yes, but why
rocker?
How curious that you should use that particular image.
[He begins to pace about, absently stroking his fly, musing half-aloud.]
Rocker, rocker, rocker . . . off his rocker. Hmmm. Rocks, rocking-chair, rocking-horse, rock-a-bye baby.
[He turns to
FRAU KAFKA
.] Let me ask you this: did you ever, as a child, have a
horse?

FRAU KAFKA
:
[Irately.]
What on earth! Doctor, I think you are
forgetting
yourself. May I suggest that we return to the
purpose
of your visit?

FRANZ
: I agree, Doctor. All this is well and good, and under other circumstances, I, for one, would welcome—

DOCTOR FREUD
: Yes, yes, of course, you’re quite right. Very well then, where were we? Ah yes, this
flat [He walks about, looking up and down.]
And all
this [he indicates the bric-a-brac]
is to be cleared out, right? Hmm. Yes, this will do quite nicely. Now get your coats, get your coats!
[He looks around the room, spots the coats hanging, quickly collects them, and helps
FRANZ
and his mother put them on.]
Good! Now then we’ll just take a little walk, hee-hee,
over to my place .
. .