Play About the Baby Read online

  BY EDWARD ALBEE

  The Zoo Story

  The Death of Bessie Smith

  The Sandbox

  The American Dream

  Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

  The Ballad of the Sad Cafe

  Tiny Alice

  Malcolm

  A Delicate Balance

  Everything in the Garden

  Box and Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-Tung

  All Over

  Seascape

  Listening

  Counting the Ways

  The Lady from Dubuque

  Lolita

  The Man Who Had Three Arms

  Finding the Sun

  Marriage Play

  Three Tall Women

  Fragments (A Sit-Around)

  The Play About the Baby

  The Goat or, Who is Sylvia?

  Occupant

  At Home at the Zoo

  Me, Myself & I

  CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that performance of THE PLAY ABOUT THE BABY is subject to a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention, the Universal Copyright Convention, the Berne Convention, and of all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including without limitation professional/amateur stage rights, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound recording, all other forms of mechanical, electronic and digital reproduction, transmission and distribution, such as CD, DVD, the Internet, private and file-sharing networks, information storage and retrieval systems, photocopying, and the rights of translation into foreign languages are strictly reserved. Particular emphasis is placed upon the matter of readings, permission for which must be secured from the Author’s agent in writing.

  The English language amateur stage performance rights in the United States, its territories, possessions and Canada for the Play is controlled exclusively by DRAMATISTS PLAY SERVICE, INC., 440 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10016. No nonprofessional performance of the Play or either of its acts may be given without obtaining in advance the written permission of DRAMATISTS PLAY SERVICE, INC., and paying the requisite fee.

  The English language stock and regional theatre stage performance rights in the United States, its territories, possessions and Canada are controlled exclusively by Samuel French, Inc, 45 West 25th Street, New York, NY 10010. No stock or regional performance or nonprofessional performance, in the aforesaid countries, of the Play or either of its acts may be given without obtaining in advance the written permission of Samuel French, Inc., and paying the requisite fee.

  Inquiries concerning all other rights should be addressed to William Morris Endeavor Entertainment, LLC, 1325 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10019. Attn: Jonathan Lomma.

  Copyright

  First published in paperback in the United States in 2004 by

  The Overlook Press, Peter Mayer Publishers, Inc.

  141 Wooster Street

  New York, NY 10012

  www.overlookpress.com

  For bulk and special sales, please contact [email protected]

  Copyright © 1997 by Edward Albee

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

  ISBN 978-1-46830-753-5

  Contents

  By Edward Albee

  Copyright

  Act One

  Act Two

  The Play About the Baby was given its world-premiere production, directed by Howard Davies, at London’s Almeida Theatre in 1998.

  The Play About the Baby—in a production directed by Edward Albee—was originally produced in the United States in April 2000 by the Alley Theatre, Gregory Boyd, artistic director, Paul R. Tetreault, managing director.

  The Play About the Baby premiered in New York City at the Century Center for the Performing Arts on February 1, 2001, produced by Elizabeth Ireland McCann, Daryl Roth, Terry Allen Kramer, Fifty-Second Street Productions, Robert Bartner, and Stanley Kaufelt, in association with the Alley Theatre. David Esbjornson was the director, John Arnone designed the set, Michael Krass designed the costumes, and Kenneth Posner did the lighting design. The production manager was Kai Brothers, and the production stage manager Lloyd Davis, Jr. The cast was as follows:

  Girl Kathleen Early

  Boy David Burtka

  Man Brian Murray

  Woman Marian Seldes

  Act One

  (Two chairs, identically placed not far from center, slightly diagonally toward one another, walking space between them. Nice light; neutral background.)

  (BOY and GIRL both seated, girl hugely pregnant, she stage right, he stage left; hands folded, facing out)

  GIRL

  (Not moving; calm) I’m going to have the baby now.

  (BOY and GIRL exit left)

  (Sound: Growing labor; medical preps and encouragement. Growing pain and moaning; screams with accompanying sounds; slap; baby crying. Silence.)

  (BOY and GIRL, no longer pregnant, enter.)

  GIRL

  (Quietly) There.

  BOY

  (No comment) It’s the miracle of life.

  GIRL

  Yes; yes; it is.

  BOY

  (Turns to her) Did it hurt a lot?

  GIRL

  (Touches her dress at the knee) They say you can’t remember pain.

  BOY

  Aha.

  GIRL

  (Pause) Yes; yes, it did.

  BOY

  You can, then.

  GIRL

  As I remember.

  BOY

  I broke my arm before I knew you. Did you know that?

  GIRL

  Not that I remember.

  BOY

  Yes. Well, I did.

  (Sound: cry of baby offstage left)

  GIRL

  (Rises) Feeding time.

  BOY

  In here.

  GIRL

  All right. (Exits left, behind BOY)

  BOY

  (Sort of to her, but as if she were still there) It wasn’t exactly I broke it; it was more they broke it for me. Not that they said we’ll break it for you if you want us to—if you can’t do it for yourself. (Considers) More they just broke it—not for me, but rather as if I’d asked, though I hadn’t. They did break it, though I hadn’t asked. (Afterthought) I’m sure if I’d asked they would have been … well, eager, I guess. That’s only a supposition, though.

  (GIRL reenters from left, already feeding the baby; she sits again, chair right. We do not see it, merely its blanket.)

  GIRL

  Very hungry.

  BOY

  I’ll want some; remember.

  GIRL

  (Slightly ironic) Line up!

  BOY

  (Matter-of-fact) I’d come from the gym and I was pumped.

  GIRL

  (Looking down) V … e … r … y hungry.

  BOY

  The bloodrush, the endorphins …

  GIRL

  (To BOY) I love your body; I really do.

  BOY

  (Little wiggle of eyebrows) I know; I know you do. (Back to previous tone) … and I was walking back to th
e dorm, and I had my gym bag and my stuff and I was …

  GIRL

  When you let me lick your armpits I almost faint, I really do.

  BOY

  It tickles.

  GIRL

  (Smiles) You start getting hard.

  BOY

  Yes: it tickles. (Previous tone) And I was in the alley between the gym and the science building and there were these guys I’d seen at the Hopeless Mothers gig at the arena when I was taking tickets there? And I’d spotted them trying to sneak in and I’d called the guards on them …

  GIRL

  I like your left armpit better than the other.

  BOY

  Well, the other arm got broken; I was telling you.

  GIRL

  You think that’s … Ow! (Reaction to baby at breast)

  BOY

  Let me at it for a while. I won’t bite!

  GIRL

  (Oddly) Not now.

  BOY

  I think I like both your breasts equally.

  GIRL

  What happened?

  BOY

  Hm?

  GIRL

  You called the guards on them—on the guys.

  BOY

  Oh, and the guards roughed them up a little, and they said “We’ll get you, motherfucker!” The guys—not the guards. To me; they said it to me.

  GIRL

  (Looks at him) Yes: of course the guys, and of course to you.

  BOY

  And that’s what they did.

  GIRL

  What?

  BOY

  They got me, motherfucker. They said, in the alley there, hey, you’re the one put the guard dogs on us, aren’t you. I said yes, I was; guards, not guard dogs.

  GIRL

  Not a wise answer.

  BOY

  Which?

  GIRL

  Either; both.

  BOY

  Never lie. Besides, they knew. Yes, I am, I said. You guys could have paid—benefit and all. You guys could have paid.

  GIRL

  What was the benefit?

  BOY

  Mother’s Milk.

  GIRL

  Ah.

  BOY

  Yeah, I know, I know, they said—kind of apologetic; we shoulda paid. No hard feelings I said. Hey, no way, no way, they said. And I put my hand out: no hard feelings I said.

  GIRL

  Less wise.

  BOY

  I know; and I think I knew what was going to happen, but too quick to stop it.

  GIRL

  (Looks at baby) Baby’s full. (Rises, goes off left, behind BOY)

  BOY

  (As she exits; as previously) I put my hand out, and I’d just come from the gym and my forearms looked great. (Begins to demonstrate) And the big guy put his hand out and shook hands with me and swung around and cracked my arm against his knee and … Crack! And oh shit it hurt! Have fun taking tickets, the big one said, and the others laughed, and I was on my knees, and it hurt so much I was crying, and one of the others came up on me, and he unzipped his fly and what was he going to do … piss on me? I don’t know; and the big one said leave him alone and they walked off. (Pause) Maybe he wasn’t going to piss on me; maybe he was going to …

  (GIRL reenters from left)

  GIRL

  All asleep. (Observes him on his knees, his disturbance)

  BOY

  (Still preoccupied) I don’t know what he was going to do! It hurt so! They hurt me so!

  GIRL

  (She kneels in front of him, baring a breast.) Shhhhhhh.

  BOY

  (Softly; almost pleading) He hurt me so.

  GIRL

  Come toward me.

  BOY

  (His left hand on her breast, his right arm hanging limp; still on his knees) … and the other one came toward me …

  GIRL

  Here. Do this.

  BOY

  (His words becoming mumble as he fastens his mouth on her breast) … and he undid his fly, and I don’t know what he was going to do. I don’t know if he was going to …

  GIRL

  Shhhhhh. Shhhhh. Shhhhh. Come. In here, in here.

  (GIRL leads BOY off left. MAN enters, comes center and stands behind and between the chairs.)

  MAN

  (Out; smile) Hello there! (Gestures off left.) Boy, girl? Yes?

  (MAN observes chairs; passes fingers of right hand over stage-right chair; smells fingers; considers; looks off left. Addresses audience; sighs.)

  Ah … youngsmell! Have you ever noticed when you’re driving somewhere you’ve not been before—directions, of course—it always takes longer than you think it should, that you’ve passed it, or not turned left when you were supposed to? And yet, when you’re coming home, or whatever, after you’ve been there—the place you didn’t know how to get to, but had directions—you’re amazed at how much shorter the trip is? (Fingers of left hand over stage-left chair; smells fingers; eyebrows waggling; whispers) Youngsmell. Have you noticed that? Not youngsmell; how much shorter the trip is? I’m not sure whether it’s it does take longer to get there, or it’s it just seems so. (To someone in particular) Have you noticed that? Hm? (If no answer, go on; if there’s an answer, improvise briefly.) I don’t think it’s merely that it seems so, though it may seem that way—which may be the same thing but I don’t think so: that which we feel we’ve experienced is the same as we have? (Dismissive) Naaaaah! Reality determined by our experience of it? Or our sense of experiencing it? Naaaaaaah! (Smells both hands together, then right, then left, then both again.) Eeny-meeny-miney-moe! Have you ever noticed when you’re talking to someone you should know, but don’t, at a cocktail party, say, and you try to lead the conversation to remind you who they are—who you’re talking to—they won’t do it? They won’t let you go there? Do they know what you’re trying to do and are doing a kind of “Fuck you. You don’t remember me? Well, fuck you; just hang there!” Or are they so absorbed seeing you again, remembering you—perfectly, of course: your name, the stuff you did to your wife—that it would never occur to them you’re twisting in the wind? Once, I was at a party; well, no, I was giving it, and I was being a good host—introducing people to people, putting types together I thought would be good for one another or, sometimes, just a hoot, or plain wrong—and I’d been at it for a while—it was a big party—and I was groggy, I guess, and there was this tall, older woman next to me—she’d sort of come over from another group—and two dykes came up—middle-aged, neither one diesel, neither one lipstick, real centered ladies—and I’d known them for years, and they were Jo and Lu, good simple, nonspecific names: none of this Josephine and Lucille shit—and I did my host act, and I turned to introduce them to the older woman standing next to me, and I looked at her, and I knew she was familiar, but I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember who she was, and I said, “Jo, Lu, this is … this is …” and Jo laughed and said, “We know your mother, dear.” (To someone specific) Fall through the floor!! Ever done that!? (General again) I suppose that was the worst—so far!, though I’m looking forward with a kind of dread—fascinated dread, you know? After Jo and Lu had chuckled off, Mother looked at me sort of funny and said, “You didn’t know who I was, did you?” “Oh, come on, Ma!” I said, hearty guffaw. “No, you didn’t,” she said, just the fringiest little bit sad, and she walked away. It didn’t change anything between us; we were O.K., but I think it was the first time I realized we were both adults. She died three years later. (To someone in particular; laughing) No! Not from that! (General again) Nobody dies from not being remembered. (Change of tone; more interior) From being forgotten, yes, very probably, but not from not being remembered. (Pause) Or are they the same thing? (Thinks) No; not quite. (Energy rising) So! Anyway! I bring all this up because … well, clearly because I wanted to bring it up, and I dare say there was a … Yes! Of course! Driving somewhere you’d never been before, that was it; that started it all. (Smells fingers of both hands again) Ahhh! Ho
w things fade—memories, photo-memories sometimes, last, though, usually. Scent. (Spells it) S…C…E…N…T. (Sad now) All fades, all dissolves, and we are left with … invention; reinvention. I wonder how I’ll remember (Gestures about him) all of this? But, since I’m not there yet—so to speak—have not, haven’t remembered it … (brisk) well, first we invent, and then we reinvent. As with the past so the future—reality, as they laughingly call it? Who was it said “Our reality—or something—is determined by our need? The greater need rules the game?” The reality? I guess that was me. All those “naaaahs” before? Remember the “naaaahs”? Just a trick. Pay attention to this, what’s true and what isn’t is a tricky business, no? What’s real and what isn’t? Tricky. Do you follow? Yes? No? Good. (Shrugs) Whichever. (Begins to exit) Woman.

  (As MAN exits, stage left, WOMAN enters stage right, rather briskly; sees MAN exiting.)

  WOMAN

  (After exiting MAN) Wait; wait! (He exits) Am I late? (To audience now) Am I late!? Am I on time!?

  (BOY enters, wearing a towel only; WOMAN sees him)

  WOMAN

  (To BOY; concerned) Am I late?

  BOY

  (Mildly puzzled) Hello?

  WOMAN

  Hello. Am I late?

  BOY

  (Matter-of-fact) I wouldn’t know. (Afterthought) Would I?

  WOMAN

  (Fretful) I don’t know!

  BOY

  (Wipes his mouth; licks his lips; smiles) I’ve been mountain climbing.

  WOMAN

  (Overly bright) Have you!

  BOY

  Yes.

  WOMAN

  You hardly seem dressed for it.

  BOY

  (Looks at his towel) Oh, I put this on … put it around me.

  WOMAN

  (Tiny pause as BOY doesn’t continue) Oh? Aha! (Pause) Where? Where did you put it on? I don’t mean around your waist; I mean … where?

  BOY

  (Points left, over his shoulder) In there.

  WOMAN

  No, I mean … (Pause) Aha. (Pause) Do you know who I am?

  BOY

  No.

  WOMAN

  Aha. (Pause) Are you certain?

  BOY

  I’m not?

  WOMAN

  Aha. (Silence) Mountain climbing?

  BOY

  (Recalling; eyes closed, perhaps?) It’s all jungle as you approach—well, as you imagine it: warm, warmer, moist; but you move through it, past all that, eventually, reluctantly, of course; you’re coming up from the south—from below—and you see them up ahead, looming, but there is a lot to get through first, as I said, in the jungle there—the ridges, and the great declivity. God!, and it’s so hot and moist and … and … thrilling, and …