Play About the Baby Read online

  BOY

  (Sort of reciting) What, that you would pass out one day, be put on a stretcher and taken to the hospital, where nothing was found to be wrong—if fainting away is nothing—and that when this happened you would wake up and the nurse would be over you and she would smile and say everything was just fine and that your brother was in the hospital room with you, right by your side … that he was hard.

  GIRL

  She didn’t say that—either one, the nurse or the Gypsy—the hard part.

  BOY

  … and that when you looked and saw it wasn’t your brother …

  GIRL

  … not hard to determine, since I don’t have one …

  BOY

  … it wasn’t your brother, it would be the boy you would marry?

  GIRL

  Yes. I wonder how that old Gypsy knew so much?

  BOY

  Was she really very old? He very old? Gypsies look older than they are.

  GIRL

  (Dogmatic) She was old. That’s what the sign said: “Come in and visit the old Gypsy; have your future told.”

  BOY

  They lie.

  GIRL

  (Slightly offended) No! It was all true! It all came true!

  BOY

  No: about being old. It might have been a man for all you know.

  GIRL

  I can tell a man from a woman!

  BOY

  A Gypsy?

  GIRL

  (Uncertain) Well … (More aggressive) What do you mean “if she wakes up”? What do you mean by that?

  BOY

  You could have had a stroke for all I knew; you could have been dead. But you were so beautiful—so thrilling—I assumed you weren’t—wouldn’t be. I got off my bike—didn’t even look at it, left my clips on—and saw you there and my heart sang, as the song sings. She won’t be dead, I said to myself; she’ll wake up and I’ll be hard and she’ll love me and she’ll marry me.

  GIRL

  (Preoccupied again) Gypsies are strange people. How do they know so much?

  BOY

  It’s easy to foretell the future: you just have to know what’s going to happen.

  GIRL

  Hmmmmm.

  BOY

  And in the way of a true fairy tale come true no one even stole my bike.

  GIRL

  I guess those boys weren’t around.

  BOY

  What boys?

  GIRL

  Oh, never mind.

  BOY

  Oh; those boys.

  GIRL

  Never mind. What a lovely story.

  BOY

  I think so. Did the Gypsy say we’d have a baby?

  GIRL

  No; the Gypsy was … well, she wouldn’t talk about that.

  BOY

  Did you ask?

  GIRL

  Of course! “What about a baby?” I said. “What about babies? How many will we have?”

  BOY

  And she wouldn’t say—he wouldn’t say?

  GIRL

  No; she … the Gypsy frowned.

  BOY

  She frowned? He frowned?

  GIRL

  “I can’t see that,” she said; “besides: your time is up.”

  BOY

  Your money, she meant—he meant: not your time, your money.

  GIRL

  Same thing.

  BOY

  Yes. With Gypsies, yes.

  GIRL

  Maybe we’d better go back, get some more answers; take the baby with us …

  BOY

  No! Gypsies steal babies!

  GIRL

  (Laughing) They don’t!

  BOY

  You’ve never heard? It’s famous; it’s like the money scam.

  GIRL

  What is that?

  BOY

  You don’t know? The money scam? The Gypsy promises to double your money for you, so you bring it to her, or him, to be blessed, so it’ll double, or whatever. You bring it in ten dollar bills, or something, in a big paper bag, and …

  GIRL

  Why do you do that?

  BOY

  What?

  GIRL

  Bring it to the Gypsy in a big paper bag!

  BOY

  To be blessed!

  GIRL

  No! Why in a big paper bag?

  BOY

  (Mildly irritated) Because that’s the way the Gypsy asks for it.

  GIRL

  Oh.

  BOY

  And the Gypsy puts the paper bag …

  GIRL

  … with all the money in it …

  BOY

  … yes … on the table, between the two of you, and the Gypsy blesses it, and starts chanting, or something, and the music starts, and the lights go all funny …

  GIRL

  (Losing track) Wait a minute …

  BOY

  … and in the middle of all that the Gypsy pulls the famous switch.

  GIRL

  What famous switch?!

  BOY

  Hm? Oh, the famous switch of the bag. In all the chanting and the lights and the music and all, the Gypsy switches bags—takes your paper bag with all the money in it and puts another paper bag in its place filled with—what, I don’t know—newspapers, or something, cut-up newspapers.

  GIRL

  (Logical) Well, what if you opened it?! You’d see that …

  BOY

  … the Gypsy tells you to bury the paper bag in your backyard without opening it and without anyone seeing you, and you’re to leave it there for—what?—three weeks, so the magic can work, the money can double, or whatever.

  GIRL

  Yes, but …

  BOY

  … and you do it, because you’re an asshole—you wouldn’t have put your life savings in a paper bag and handed it to some damn Gypsy if you weren’t an asshole in the first place. And so, after three weeks you go out and start digging up your backyard, since you’ve probably forgotten exactly where you’ve buried the paper bag, you being such an asshole, and your husband asks you what you’re doing, and there’s nothing for it, and so you say you’re digging up the paper bag with all your life savings in it, like the Gypsy told you to do. And your husband, who knows a lot more about Gypsies than you do, is sitting down by now, his head in his hands, crying. And so you eventually find where you buried it, and you dig it up and you take it over to your husband to show him how the money’s doubled, and you open up the bag …

  GIRL

  … and it’s all cut-up newspaper.

  BOY

  Right; and the Gypsy’s probably in Miami Beach by now driving around in some snazzy convertible.

  GIRL

  (At a loss for words) That’s … that’s … terrible.

  BOY

  You bet your life savings it is. So: you don’t take the baby to the Gypsies.

  GIRL

  They’d steal it.

  BOY

  Probably.

  GIRL

  But, what would they … do with it?

  BOY

  (Shrugs) Sell it. Eat it.

  GIRL

  (Disbelieving) Noooooooo!

  BOY

  (Shrugs again) Okay.

  MAN

  (Pops in) If you’re not careful you’re going to have the society for the prevention of cruelty to Gypsies after you. (Exits abruptly)

  BOY

  (To where he was; nonplussed) Why? Why would I?

  GIRL

  Who is that man! Why are there so many strange people around here?

  BOY

  (At GIRL; preoccupied) What? What? (To where MAN was) Nobody cares about Gypsies! (To Girl) What strange people?

  GIRL

  You were talking to a woman earlier, and now this man sticks his head in here and …

  BOY

  (Shrugs) I don’t know these people. I thought we were talking about the baby.

  GIRL


  We were; indeed we were. Do we have in-laws we don’t know about?

  BOY

  Not that I know of.

  GIRL

  Have we rented out rooms?

  BOY

  I don’t believe so.

  GIRL

  Then why are they here? (Suddenly) Maybe they’re Gypsies! Come to steal the baby!

  BOY

  Don’t you be silly. Do they look like Gypsies?

  GIRL

  Well …

  BOY

  Swarthy; big mustaches, cigars, fedoras …

  GIRL

  Like Mexicans?

  BOY

  No; different. Mexicans wear little derbies.

  GIRL

  That’s Peruvians, and that’s women.

  BOY

  (Mildly annoyed) Whatever. Mexicans look … Mexican. Gypsies—from photographs I’ve seen … drawings—look like … well, like Gypsies.

  GIRL

  Oh. (Relieved) Then they’re not Gypsies come to steal the baby.

  BOY

  What I said was, these people don’t look like Gypsies—from what I know of how Gypsies look—which may not be much. That’s what I said. (Pause) Why would anybody want to steal the baby?

  GIRL

  For money?

  BOY

  We don’t have any.

  GIRL

  To sell it, or to eat it?

  BOY

  (Sighing) I said that’s what Gypsies are purported to do, and I said I didn’t think that …

  GIRL

  (Abrupt) All right! (Shy) To hurt us? To injure us beyond salvation?

  BOY

  (Pause; very sincere) Aren’t we too young?

  GIRL

  (Not wholly convinced) I suppose.

  (Baby crying offstage.)

  GIRL

  (Alarmed) The baby’s crying! Do you think someone is …

  BOY

  (Comforting) Doesn’t that sound like hunger? Isn’t that the hungry sound the baby makes?

  GIRL

  (Somewhat relieved) Yes; yes; I suppose so. (Moves to exit) I’ll go feed the baby. (Exits)

  BOY

  (Half to himself; very preoccupied) Leave some for me. (Pause) (This next speech is to “theoretical people.” The audience is not to be addressed directly, nor is anyone else.)

  BOY

  Beyond salvation? Injure us beyond salvation? Hurt us to the point that …? (To GIRL, off) I’m standing guard. (She doesn’t hear, of course. More to himself now) I’ll guard you; I’ll guard the baby. (Gentle) If there’s anybody out there wants to do this to us—to hurt us so—ask why? Ask what we’ve done? I can take pain and loss and all the rest later—I think I can, when it comes as natural as … sleep? But … now? We’re happy; we love each other; I’m hard all the time; we have a baby. We don’t even understand each other yet! (Pause) So … give it some thought. Give us some time. (Pause) O.K.?

  GIRL

  (Emerges; goes to BOY) Wasn’t hungry; false alarm.

  BOY

  (Shrugs) No problem. (Out again) O.K.? Please?

  (MAN is propelled on stage, followed by WOMAN; clearly they are in the middle of a heated exchange.)

  WOMAN

  I was young once, remember? I had a life before you?

  MAN

  Oh, God!

  WOMAN

  What you referred to—what you always refer to—as my privileged little life before I met you?

  MAN

  Oh, God! (Indicates out) Not in front of all these people! (Indicates BOY and GIRL who are peripheral) Not in front of the children!

  (They stand, sit, move; musical chairs, etc.)

  WOMAN

  Well, I did have. You think no one but you wanted me? Hunh?! (A pronouncement) A painter hanged himself for the love of me.

  MAN

  (Flat contradiction) No.

  WOMAN

  Yes, he did. I was eighteen, and moving into ripeness. I was eighteen, as I said, and knowledgeable, and I was at a tea one afternoon—it was summer; it was a resort—and I had on silk and a great hat with ribbons, and I had been to Europe …

  MAN

  (Quietly dogmatic) You had not. (To BOY and GIRL) She had not!

  WOMAN

  (Overriding him) … and I had been to Europe, and I knew the women there went without bras if their breasts were exemplary and if they were young, and I had my lovely breasts. (Cups them for him) Lovely? Breasts? (Tiny pause) Nothing?

  MAN

  Get on with it.

  WOMAN

  (Smiles) And I had my lovely breasts free in the delicious silk, an unlined silk, smooth against my nipples; and I stalked about—I think I had a parasol as well, really doing it up. Very Gainsborough, or perhaps Watteau.

  MAN

  Jesus!

  WOMAN

  “Very Gainsborough, or perhaps Watteau,” I heard a voice say, just behind me and to the right. I stopped. I mean, who else could the voice be referring to, right?

  MAN

  (Ironic) Right!

  WOMAN

  “Definitely Watteau,” it went on, “definitely Watteau.” And I turned my pretty head, and there he was … The Painter. Not a man who painted, not a painter, but … The Painter: hollow-cheeked, burning eyes, wispy whiskers, long, bony fingers, the voice cavernous, basso, the costume … well, do you know Whistler? (Afterthought) Of course you do.

  MAN

  Of course I do.

  WOMAN

  Of course you do.

  MAN

  What do you take me for?

  WOMAN

  “You should have a crook and sheep, or an arm basket filled with wildflowers. I’m going to paint you,” he said. “Are you!” I said …

  MAN

  (Out) I don’t believe a word of this. (To BOY and GIRL) Not a word of this is true.

  WOMAN

  “Yes,” he said, “twice.” “To get it right?” I joked. “First time a practice swing?” “No,” he said, his burning eyes even deeper and sadder, “first as you are, as you are right now, and then, later, naked, your lovely breasts, the dimple of your belly, your milk-pink hips, your burning bush …” “Really!” I said. “You go too far!” Phrases like that just … came to me then; I could do them with conviction. “Really, Sir, you go too far.”

  MAN

  (Back in) Milk-pink?

  WOMAN

  (A trifle embarrassed) Well … yes.

  MAN

  You must have read it somewhere. (To BOY and GIRL) She read it somewhere.

  WOMAN

  (High horse) It is what he said! (Back to recounting; out) I should probably interject here that all my lovers to that moment had been both young and handsome—sturdy, virile boys and young men my own age, well-muscled … handsome, as I said. I had not made love with the aged, with cripples, dwarves, or—and I blush at this, I think, in retrospect, at least, for its lack of humor, its lack of generosity—even with the simply plain.

  MAN

  (Eyes to heaven) Christ!

  WOMAN

  (Back in) Needless to say—needles, as I used to say when I was little—almost needles to say, nothing was further from my lovely mind than an affair with the gaunt and disheveled painter. (Thinks) Well … perhaps death was further from my mind, but not much. I was seeing—as they say—“seeing” a young polo player …

  MAN

  (Out) Do you believe any of this? (To BOY and GIRL) Do you? (Afterthought) Well, they might.

  WOMAN

  Yes, of course they do … a young polo player, whose biceps alone were worth the trip. I was seeing him, and quite involved, almost … happy. What did I need with … well, with anything else? My days were filled with polo, my nights with rut. Oh, what a wangled teb we weave.

  MAN

  A what?

  WOMAN

  A teb; a wangled teb.

  MAN

  What is that?

  WOMAN

  You figure it out. Anyway, I sat for the p
ainter. He was meticulous, and he worked so slowly. My polo player wondered where I was instead of watching him knock balls through the legs of horses. “I’m being painted as a shepherdess,” I said. “You’re kidding!” he replied, white teeth flashing, et cetera. “Be careful he doesn’t want to paint you in the nude,” he warned. “Oh, he does,” I smiled, “he does.” And Beauty’s face darkened—even beneath the tan—and my young heart broke, for I saw that he loved me, and I knew in that moment … that I did not love him.

  MAN

  Oh, you poor dear!

  WOMAN

  That I desired him, yes; I mean, he was a splendid lover—slow, patient, thoughtful, but always in command, and driving. Indeed, he was splendid.

  MAN

  (Out) Look at her! You believe this?

  WOMAN

  Of course they do. But … I became lovers with the painter. He wasn’t much good—in bed, I mean. “I know I’m unworthy of you,” he said, “That my touch is unworthy of you, that when I crawl on you like a spider in the night, my bony fingers trembling on your perfect breasts …”

  MAN

  (To WOMAN) Nobody talks like that!

  WOMAN

  He did … “and when you let me enter in, it is in an act of mercy …”

  MAN

  (Out) Nobody! Nobody has ever talked like that! (To BOY and GIRL) Nobody. EVER. Don’t just stand there with your mouths open! Learn something!

  WOMAN

  “I know all this and I am strengthened by my weakness.” And so on and so forth. And, well, he was strengthened; his talent surged; his drawings of me—and the paintings—made him, well … quite famous. I hang in museums. You didn’t know that, did you?

  MAN

  (In) You do not. (Out) She does not. (To BOY and GIRL) She does not.

  WOMAN

  I do not? But I began to see something: that he was getting far more out of this than I was: he had his lovely decoration, plus a model for free, plus a source of income, and I was saddled with this … skimpy little man with only bones and drive and the oddest breath and … and I felt tricked. I belonged with the polo players and such, the healthy animals.

  MAN

  (Back in. Sarcastic) Of course you did!

  WOMAN

  I was young and fabulous.

  MAN

  (Ibid) Yes! Of course you were!

  WOMAN

  And I suddenly knew that I hadn’t gained the days, but I’d merely lost the nights. Do you understand? (Waits; he merely shakes his head.) Where was I?

  MAN

  Not gained the days but merely lost the nights, or some such rubbish.

  WOMAN

  … not gained the days but merely lost the nights. And so I broke it off. “You’re using me,” I shrieked at him, pacing his studio, knocking things over. “You don’t love me; you love the fact of me.” (Shakes her head) Who did I think I was? Who did we all think we were? “I can’t live without you,” he called to me from his window as I flounced from the building. “I’ll kill myself!” “Hanh!” I said, and turned on my heel and … vanished into the mist, or whatever. And of course he did: kill himself, that is. He hanged himself in his atelier, from a rafter. (Pause) And how does all that strike you? How and where does all that grab you?