Larry Woiwode's

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beyond the Bedroom Wall

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

adapted for the stage by Robert Hubbard (with the full permission of the author)

Copyright 2002

All rights reserved

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GENEALOGY / CAST LIST

 

 

“his generation acting what hers actually felt?” (BTBW 541)

 

 

Storytellers/Narrators *

Marie Neumiller

Tim Neumiller

Jerome Neumiller

Charles Neumiller

 

 

Neumiller & Jones Families

Mr. Neumiller

Mrs. Neumiller

Martin Neumiller

Ed Jones

Mrs. Jones

Alpha Jones

 

 

CHORUS**

Two to Four Actors cast in multiple roles

 

* These are the children of Martin and Alpha Neumiller. Within the context of this production, they serve as narrators. Although they often surrender themselves to the narratives they collectively recall, each maintains his or her unique identity. Costumes should reflect their similarities in function as well as their differences in temperament.

 

Although the actors playing these characters come from the larger CHORUS, their involvement centers on these roles. Their costumes are more elaborate and developed. They are the personages of the past conjured to help the extended family relive and cherish their family history.

 

** A group of two to four performers who play several roles each. Almost like a scavenger hunt, they dress themselves for each role with costume pieces found in the old trunks left onstage throughout the performance. CHORUS members also participate in choral speaking sections, perform live instrumental and vocal music, and assist with scene changes. The CHORUS presumably consists of distant relatives of Martin and Alpha Neumiller who gather together to bring to life and share in the Neumiller family history. They are guided by the immediate family of Marie, Tim, Jerome, and Charles Neumiller.

 

 

 

Setting/Scenery

The design should reflect the theatricality and reflexivity of the performance itself. Realism is not a goal. A flexible unit set should allow for multiple playing areas and levels that can be used to suggest a variety of locations, including the downtown of a small North Dakota town, the interior and exterior of the Jones’ farmhouse, the interior and exterior of the Neumiller farmhouse, a prairie field, Martin and Alpha's home in North Dakota, Martin and Alpha's home in Illinois, a hospital room, and a front porch. Ideally, most of the furnishings for these locales should be represented by a few set pieces present onstage throughout the performance. These set pieces might include old but sturdy trunks, a small circular table, four to five chairs, some bed linen, old crates, etc. Many of the locations may be best suggested through lighting and properties.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL

 

Act One

(The audience arrives to see a flexible, multi-leveled, presentational scenic design capable of suggesting a variety of locations.  Two weathered trunks sit in the playing space.  Additional set pieces include several chairs and stools, a bench, a piano, and alcoves holding small tables. Five minutes before the start of the show, members of the Neumiller family begin entering the playing space. One of them sits at the piano and plays a mixture of Catholic and Lutheran hymns.  The rest of the family gradually enters from every door of the theatre as if to suggest travel from many different places.  After greeting each other with hugs and handshakes, a small group gathers by the piano and sings a Catholic hymn.  The rest of the family members begin looking through the trunks.  They pull out the fading treasures of the Neumiller family.  Besides the ones listed below, additional artifacts might include two old baseball gloves, a music box, a hope chest, a Scandinavian wedding dress, etc.  Among other bits of business, the actor playing ALPHA models the wedding dress for the actor playing MARTIN.  Eventually MARIE pulls out a large family album, takes it downstage, turns to the family, and opens it.  This action catches the attention of the rest of the family.)

 

                                                         CHORUS (All)

A FAMILY ALBUM

 

                                                         MARIE  

Its black cover has a pebbly texture and the edges of it are ashen colored,

 

                                                         CHARLES

worn through, crumbling and cloth-like to the touch,

 

                                                         JEROME

and its pages of heavy black paper have been leafed through over so many silent evenings by so many hands that several of them have come loose.

 

                                                         TIM

A black cord with silken tassels at each end is laced through a pair of metal eyes along its left side, and the cord is tied in a bow that's been pressed into the same shape for ten years.

 

                                                         MARIE, CHARLES, JEROME, TIM

On the heavy pages are rows of photographs, held in place by black corner mounts, and a careful hand has written a caption underneath each in white ink.

 

                                                         CHORUS (All)

Piled into its front and back, and interleaved among its pages, are

 

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

postcards of vacation spots the family has visited,

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

an envelope holding a lock of the oldest son's first hair,

 

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

their father's report card from the eighth grade,

 

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

a folded purple-felt pennant from the college both parents attended,

 

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

a birthday card signed “Much love, young one, Grandma” with a rabbit on it holding up a white number two,

           

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

an immunization chart for one of the children with only the first series of shots filled in,

 

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

a recipe for orange cake,

 

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

a letter written by a seven-year-old on his first vacation away from home,

 

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

a mournful face repeated over and over on strips of school pictures which weren't traded away by a son who had trouble making friends,

 

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

a pressed corsage from a prom one daughter attended,

 

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

somebody's ribbon, pink,

 

                                                         CHORUS (Individual)

a threaded needle,

 

                                                         CHARLES

a smell of frailty and age that seems to rise only from this heavy black paper,

 

                                                         MARIE

as though the past itself were composed of elements as permanent-

 

                                                         JEROME

seeming yet frail,

 

                                                         MARIE, CHARLES, JEROME, TIM

and dozens and dozens of photographs that there was no time to mount.

                                                         CHORUS (All)

THE STREET

 

                                                         TIM

            (stepping forward, addressing the audience)

Every night when I'm not able to sleep, when scrolls of words and formulas unfurl in my mind and faces of those I love, both living and dead, rise from the dark, accusing me of

 

                                                         TIM & CHORUS (Individual)

apathy,

           

                                                         TIM & CHORUS (Individual)

ambition,

 

                                                         TIM & CHORUS (Individual)

self-indulgence,

 

                                                         TIM & CHORUS (Individual)

neglect

 

                                                         TIM

—all of their accusations just—and there's no hope of rest, I try again to retrace the street. It's an unpaved street, and it's the color of my hand. It's made up mostly of the clayey gumbo from the flat and tilting farmland all around this village, so small it can be seen through from all sides, and its ungraded surface is generally overrun with ruts that are slippery and water-filled in spring, ironlike in summer, furred in fall with frost as phosphorescent as mountainy ridges on the moon's crust, and in winter buried beyond all thought except for any thought that clay or gravel or the booted feet of people crossing ice-covered snow above might have. It's the main street of Hyatt, North Dakota, and it's one block long.

 

                    TIM                                                                     CHORUS

I lived in Hyatt from the time I was born                        Ti-i-i-i-i-i-i-m-m-m-m-m--eee

until I was six. I ran up and down this

street with friends, playing hide-and-                 Hi-i-i-i-i-i-i-d-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e 

seek between buildings that stand         

deserted, now that time has had its                                de---ssssssss--errrrrrrrr----ted

diminishing effects.                                           

  

                                                         TIM

            (excitedly) 

My brother Jerome once peed from the top of this water tower.  My sister Marie could never find me when I hid in this little corner.  This is the alley where Susie Eichelbuger—her parents owned the only tavern in town—

 

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

They aren’t Catholic.  Mrs. Eichelburger smokes cigarettes, and their daughter, Susie, at the age of five, has begun to exhibit herself to boys.

 

                                                         TIM

My brother Charles and I were two of the first to see. 

            (beat)

Every night I approach the street in the same way, from the east, along a long building that shields it from me until the last moment of unbelievability is banished by its being there. The building was once the machine shed of a

 

                                                         MARTIN

John Deere implement dealer,

 

                                                         TIM

so my father’s told me, and is now the Town Hall and high-school gymnasium; this side is surfaced with sheets of tin die-pressed to simulate brick.

 

                                                         CHORUS (Old Timer)

            (stepping forward)

The Town Hall is the heart of Hyatt-the sports arena, the theater, the polling place, the movie house, the dance hall, and the band building, the social retreat, the inoculation center, the courthouse, the village palace with its changing set of kings,

 

                                                         TIM

and every Thursday evening during the winter, when a man from Fessenden wheels a wooden crate

 

                                                         CHORUS (Man from Fessenden)

            (as if a salesman)

mounted on skate rollers into the building and seats himself on a stool like the stools used by shoe salesmen, and straps on skates, the Town Hall is a noisy roller rink.

   

                                                         TIM

I come to the corner of the building and turn south on Main Street. At its far end I can see the raised roadbed and shining rails of the Soo Line, and, beyond the rails, flanking and towering high above the Western store fronts of the street, four grain elevators. A quarter way down one of them, in black letters ten feet tall, I read

           

                                                         CHORUS (All)

N. J. LUDVIG and CO.

 

                      TIM                                                                   CHORUS

and when the period after CO. starts falling

with sidewise swipes toward the ground,                       New.................................day

I know it's only a pigeon diving after spilled grain,          New.................................hour

            TIM (continued)                                                           CHORUS (continued)

a luncheon along individual lines,                                    New.................................time

a new day for him, a new hour, a new time.                   New.................................day

 

                                                         TIM       

I start down the street, on a high-curbed sidewalk

 

                                                         TIM & CHORUS

fractured and crumbling from severe freezes,

 

                                                         TIM

and pass the front doors of the Town Hall, which are open, folded back in rectangles of knotty pine against the white siding, and hooked in place.

 

                                                         CHARLES

There's a patriotic ceremony going on inside. 

 

            (The meeting erupts into cheers.)

 

                                                         TIM

I walk on, past Friedrich's Meat Market, where stout H. P. Friedrich, wearing steel-rimmed spectacles and a white towel around his waist, mixes up in washtubs with his bare hands an incomparable brand of farm-style sausage,

 

                                                         CHORUS (H. P. Friedrich)

            (with a German accent)

the spiciest the Northern palate can handle and still be pleased.

           

                                                         TIM

Past the Red Owl where our family never shopped, past Echelburger’s tavern—I already told you about Susie Echelburger; past Sill’s Café, K.W. Konig, D.D.S.  The Hyatt National Bank and the post office sit just across the street.  Suddenly,

 

                     TIM                                                                    CHORUS

I feel a pressure behind and turn                                    Tur-r-r-r-r-r-rn-n-n-n-n

and there are the cottonwoods and willows

at the far end of the street, along the                  Lee-e-e-a-a-a-v-v-s-s-s-s

edge of the lake, flying the maidenhair

faces of their leaves into the wind,                                 In....to......the.....wi-i-i-n-n-d

and beyond their crowns of trembling                tre-e-e-e-e-em-m-m-mbling

insubstantiality, across the lake dotted               tre-e-e-e-e-em-m-m-mbling

with cottonwood pollen, the blue and                In....to......the.....wi-i-i-n-n-d

azure plain abuts against the horizon                  Tur-r-r-r-r-r-rn-n-n-n-n

at infinity.

 

 

                                                         TIM

Next, a vacant lot overgrown with weeds, with a gray path winding through it to the end of memory, a lot that's flooded in the winter for skating and hockey, a lot where a traveling carnival pitched its tents one summer evening.

            (carnival music begins)  

There’s a memory of mine, real or imaginary, that goes:

 

                                                         YOUNG TIM

            (tugged across the stage by his mother)

walking in sawdust through a tent that smells oily and mildewed, and wishing I'd stayed at home;

 

                                                         TIM

            (to the audience)

my mother holding my hand in a manner that makes me feel trapped,

 

                                                         ALPHA

too much smoke and noise,

 

                                                         TIM

and all of the stands and concessions bordered by three-foot canvas curtains I can't see over.

 

                                                         TIM & YOUNG TIM

Where are my brothers, Charles and Jerome?

 

                                                         TIM

My mother stops so suddenly I feel a jolt in my arm, and then I look up to where she's looking and see a banner, painted in colors that are cracking away from the cloth, and am sure I haven't read right, but the gaudy drawing above confirms the words:

   

                                                         CHORUS (Carnival Manager)

25¢ SEE THE TWO-HEADED BABY 25¢

   

                                                         ALPHA

“What?”

 

                                                         TIM

A smiling man, whom I can see only from the waist up, comes over and puts his hands on the pipe that supports the curtains, and my eyes go into zigzags to take in all of the tattoos needled into his arms.

 

                                                         CARNIVAL MANAGER                                  

“Just two bits, ma'am,”

   

 

                                                         ALPHA

“There's no such thing.”

 

                                                         CARNIVAL MANAGER

“Sure, ma'am. It's in that box where the curtain is.”

   

                                                         ALPHA

“You're Lying. An infant couldn't live in there.”

   

                                                         CARNIVAL MANAGER

“Oh, lady, a-heh-heh. It ain't alive.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“It's not?”

   

                                                         CARNIVAL MANAGER

Naw. Here. You want to see?”

   

                                                         TIM

I hear curtain rings singing across a rod, and then she grips my hand so tightly I want to cry out, but stop at her changed face.

   

                                                         ALPHA

“That's diabolical!”   

 

                                                         CARNIVAL MANAGER

“Ah, lady, it's just like your pickles at home.”

   

                                                         ALPHA

“What if a child saw that?”

   

                                                         CARNIVAL MANAGER

There's many that have, ma'am, and kids, you know, it don't bother one bit. I've let you see now. You want him to?”

   

                                                         ALPHA

“You should be hanged,”

 

                                                         TIM

my mother says to him, and leads me out of the tent, and I know what it's like not to know when something important is up and exactly what it means to me. Or you. Do you see?

 

(CHARLES steps forward.  Like the other three narrators, he too has been reliving TIM's entire journey. He is holding a small diary that he took earlier from the trunk.)

                                                         CHARLES      

I have a vision of a book: it is a journal written by my mother, and moves through her years in Hyatt in an earth-colored, unbroken line, and then begins to explore her past, tentatively at first. . .

 

                                                         CHORUS

GIRL OF THE PLAINS

 

(The lights do a slow cross-fade from CHARLES to ALPHA.)

 

                        CHARLES                                                       ALPHA

as though stalactites were forming below                       1936 NOV 9. I've skipped back here to the line, and suddenly drop and move                                                                     write (I actually got you, Five Year

back toward her birth, while the                                    Diary, on the `4th) because this is my

narrative grew thinner and thinner,                                 birthday and you were my gift from until, at the journal's end, you'd feel       Martin, who couldn't be here for the left on paper-thin footing, looking down     event,  on a weekday, of course,

a sheer cliff. . . (fades out)                                             because of school. And now that I've

                                                                                    got you,

 

                                                         ALPHA 

I'm going to record my life as it is for Martin to read in five years. I was 20 years old on this date. Twenty! Lord, I feel like my life is just getting started or already half done.

 

NOV 10. I might as well write on in this space too. It's fun! I'm working, but not too hard, teaching 11 kids in a country school out beyond the outskirts of Leal. That's in North Dakota, folks. Not where the Black Hills or the Badlands are. They're mostly in South Dakota, and nice, so nice I hear. I get $60 a month but run the show as much as I want.

 

NOV 19. I got the letter from Martin I've wanted all week and it's made the time since more bright.  November sky. There was such a heavy snow I'd hardly stepped outside before I was “changed from a civilian into a captain,” as Jerome used to say—snow on my shoulders. I felt Jerome in my eyes and spirits as I walked down the bright road.

           

DEC 24. Christmas Eve. I delivered two of our fat turkeys today—one to the Neumillers, the other to the Carlsons, and then stopped at the cemetery on the crossroads back and

stood at Jerome's grave and tried to pray, wondering how he was resting, and it started to snow. I thought of him as a naked boy drowned in dirt.

 

DEC 25. I woke many times last night thinking about Martin, my perfect man.

 

                                                         CHORUS

NEW YEAR

 

 

 

(The lights come-up on the central playing space to reveal figure huddled and shivering under a blanket on a couch.  The setting is the interior of the Jones' farm house. The actors playing ED JONES, MRS. JONES and ALPHA can be seen in nearby playing spaces. JEROME and MARIE step forward to serve as the narrators.)

 

                                                         JEROME 

He dreamed he'd been sleeping in the catacombs, those cold and nitrous tombs he'd heard of only out of history books and from nuns' lips.

            (MARTIN begins to shift under the blanket)

The shuffling of a pair of slippers traced a tangle of paths and passageways through his sleep, the sound of an object being dropped

            (MRS. JONES drops a spatula)

struck deep into a dream and turned up as a spatula, and somebody in the kitchen

 

                                                         MARTIN           

            (poking his head out)

Who?

  

                                                         CHORUS

            (onomatopoeia)

whispering in a banjo tune, mingled with the hiss of a kettle making steam, had washed out a great cave, the echoing hollow where he now lay.

 

                                                         JEROME

And then he remembered that

 

                                                         MARTIN

he hadn't undressed.

 

                                                         JEROME

There was a rumble of a cookstove grate as coals were shaken down,

            (MR. JONES makes an approximate sound effect)

 and he saw a pattern of cracks, as intricate as in shattered ice, across the leather back of the horsehair sofa, and

 

                                                         MARTIN

January 1, 1936,

 

                JEROME                                                                 CHORUS.

rose above a horizon in his mind.                                   New-------------li-i-i-f-f-e

It could mark the beginning of a new life                        New-------------year-r-r-r

with the new year.                                                         New-------------li-i-i-f-f-e

 

                                                         MARTIN

Oh, let it,

                                                         JEROME

he thought, and was seized by a trembling sigh and half yawn. He covered his head with the quilt.

 

                                                         MARTIN

Until Alpha came downstairs, the world wouldn't know he was awake. He'd be a mole if her brother or parents appeared,

 

                                                         JEROME

hibernating under silver webbing in a niche of the cave. He'd be-

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (sitting-up)

Last night, here in the Jones house,

 

                                                         JEROME & MARTIN

he'd asked Alpha to be his wife.

    

                                                         MARIE

            (stepping forward, taking the narration away from JEROME)

This mole is smiling in his burrow with a star-shaped nose of gold, Martin Neumiller his name.

           

                                                         CHORUS

            (lines are split up among four members)

Son, husband, father, grandfather.

 

                                                         MARIE

            (MARTIN stands. As he does, the scene in the house dissolves away)

He started out yesterday,

 

                                                         MARIE & MARTIN

the sky violet-blue against the white of the plain, the air so still and brilliant that trees and buildings seemed sculptured out of its iciness,

 

                                                         MARIE

and then on his way to Wimbledon to get Alpha a gift,

 

                                                         MARIE & ALPHA

            (ALPHA turns into the scene)

a box of chocolates,

 

                                                         MARIE & CHORUS (Voices divided)

snowflakes started drifting out of the violet, and then a wind hit, rocking the car on its springs,

(On the word “wind,” the CHORUS makes appropriate sound effects. Gradually and seamlessly, their sound is blended with and taken over by an audio winter wind blowing.)

 

                                                         MARIE & CHORUS (continued)

and by the time he pulled into their yard, a distance of three and a half miles, the white stuff was up to the axle hubs of the Model A. The blizzard swirled away the drifted surface of the countryside and wrapped the house in blackness, while the clock on the piano chimed and showed twelve noon and the windmill in the barnyard spun in the rising wind like a corrective gear.

 

(For the next series of lines, narrators JEROME and MARIE step into the shadows. With the effects of some choral effects, the narration is divided among the characters in the scene.)

 

                                                         ED JONES

Nobody dared to go out and shut it off.

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

A woman on the other side of Wimbledon, a Mrs. Lundby, left for her barn last year in a similar storm and lost her way and was found twenty paces from her back door, frozen to death.

 

                                                         ED JONES

So the windmill clattered and shrieked in the distance, its lifter banging like a mallet on tin,

 

                                                         MARTIN

and Ed Jones cursed it, and murmured,

 

                                                         ED JONES

“That barnyard will be a skating rink the rest of the winter, folks, you can bet your ass on that.”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

The kerosene lamps were lit, split railroad ties brought in from the back porch—along with two lumps of coal, precious coal

 

                                                         ED JONES

-the potbellied stove in the front room was fired up,

 

                                                         ALPHA

and blankets and rugs were draped over the doors and windows, where the wind hit and billowed them.

 

    

                                                         CHORUS (Lauren)

“We're in a tent,”

 

                                                         MARTIN

Alpha's little sister, Lauren, cried.

 

                                                         LAUREN

“We're living in a tent!”

     

                                                         MRS. JONES

“Thank your lucky stars we're not,” Mrs. Jones said. She opened the door of the potbellied stove and pulled up a rocker and sat staring in at the flames. Alpha chorded a slow hymn on the piano and then swiveled around and wrung her fingers.

 

                                                         ALPHA

So cold!

 

                                                         ED JONES

“We've got a few dozen storm windows under a porch somewhere,”

 

                                                         MARTIN

Ed Jones said. And then he unblocked the fireplace, and in a few minutes a shuddering blaze rose above his hard-bitten profile with its big hooked nose. He sat on a couch in front of the fire with his legs apart, rubbing his hands and saying,

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Ah! Ah, God! Ah!”

              

                                                         MARTIN

And once when he and Martin were alone in the room, he leaned over and whispered, 

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Say, boy, doesn't that warm up your balls?”

   

                                                         MARTIN

He stared at Martin as though he expected a direct reply. His sea-green eyes, sunk in deep sockets, overhung by heavy eyebrows that flared up at the ends, as gleaming and fierce as a bird of prey's, were filled with a fulminating look Martin could never fathom:

 

                       MARTIN                                              CHORUS.

anger? deviltry? anguish?                                   ang---------------guish-sh-sh-sh-sh

                                                        

                                                         MARTIN

Jones had a square jaw of the English sort and lips so thin all you noticed of them were the two peaks of red at their center. It was his eyes; they seemed brimming with an

 

                                                         MARTIN (continued)

incendiary knowledge that had no outlet, and with the same fulminating look in them, he could say,

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Martin, God love you, you're one of the finest young fellows hereabouts.”

   

                                                         MARTIN

Or, about a milch cow that bedeviled his wife when he wasn't in the barn to supervise,

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Someday I'm going to take that muley bitch by the tail and pull her tits out her eardrums.”

   

                                                         MARTIN

His piercing stare and the emanations that came from him and kept Martin silent gave Jones a power over people he seemed afraid of. He spent the afternoon

 

                                                         ED JONES

telling God,

 

                                                         MARTIN

in variations of His name,

 

                                                         ED JONES

what He was doing to the livestock and wildlife with His storm.

 

                                                         MARTIN

While Martin,

 

                                                         ED JONES

a wordless subject in this court, stared at the fireplace,

 

                                                         MARTIN

and thought, how will I get home? How will I get to church tomorrow? It's a feast day. It's a holy day of obligation, dear Lord.

 

                                                         ED JONES

After a time, Jones pulled a silver hip flask out and held it in his lap.

            (To MARTIN)                                                

“Some virtues of the earth, boy?

            (MARTIN shakes his head)

“Oh, come on. It'll make you feel smart.”

                          

                                                         MARTIN

“I'd rather not.”

                                                         ED JONES

“Sprinkle some on your breath. Have a whiff of it.”

            (MARTIN manages a smile)

“Oh, so you're going to try to kiss and woo the daughter again, huh?”

            (MARTIN blushes)

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

(entering the scene. Although she saves MARTIN from an awkward moment, she is not happy with her message)

“It's no use trying to drive in this weather, Martin. The couch will be yours tonight.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

Alpha, who was in the kitchen helping, turned and winked at him.

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

Then the evening meal, a traditional Scandinavian holiday feast, with meatballs and boiled potatoes,

 

                                                         ALPHA

creamed corn, fruit soup and lefse,

 

                                                         LAUREN

and for dessert,

 

                                                         MRS. JONES, ED JONES, ALPHA, & LAUREN.

            (with excitement)

flete gret!

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (describing it as if it were a great delicacy)

sweet cream cooked with a little rice and a little sugar until the cream formed liquid butter on its top;

 

                                                         ALPHA

and there were sugar cookies and julekahe and rosettes and krumbake and fattigmann,

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

plus a main course of

    

                                                         MARTIN

            (with disgust)

lutefisk,

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

            (hurt)

which Martin wouldn't touch;

                                                         MARTIN

the fish was soaked in lye until it turned translucent and rubbery, and he'd heard that wholesalers in the city stacked slabs of it like kindling outside their shops and then dogs came along and yellowed it.

 

                                                         ALPHA

After the dishes were done

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

and Lauren was in bed,

 

                                                         ALPHA

the adults sat around the table and talked, and Mrs. Jones permitted herself to play a few hands of euchre and hearts,

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

since it was a holiday and money wasn't involved,

 

                                                         ED JONES

and then it was twelve o'clock.

 

                                                         MARTIN

They shook hands around and wished one another a

 

                                                         Ed Jones, Mrs. Jones, Alpha, Lauren

Happy New Year!

 

                                                         Martin & ALPHA

            (not believing their luck)

Mr. and Mrs. Jones went off to bed.

 

(The JONESES exit to their bedroom.  At this point, MARIE and JEROME step from the shadows and once again take over the narration.)

 

                                                         MARIE

Then the fire. In front of it on the braided rug, their faces fevered with its heat. Popcorn and divinity in bowls between them. Their fingertips touching. The intonations, the animal-like tones, the lamentation of the blizzard outside, as though the plain were mourning the loss of its mate, the clear blue sky, and would stay in mourning until the

human race was no more. The two of them, privileged beings, spared and set down on a warmed island below the wide-wasting malignancy of it.

 

                                                         MARTIN & ALPHA

Alone.

 

 

                                                         MARIE

On the oval of the braided rug, the O of love with them in its center. Sinking through echoing silence toward the light of the world,

 

                                                         JEROME

and then the question, alive in him for two years, rising of its own accord.

                                      

                                                         CHORUS

            (whispering)

Will you marry me?

 

                                                         ALPHA

“If you ever asked, I knew it would be tonight.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“How?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I just did.”

                                        

                                                         MARTIN

“You mean you've-”

(ALPHA puts her fingers to his class ring, which she wears, wound with yarn, on her right hand)

“I'm really afraid,”                                        

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I know. I've been afraid, too.”

                                         

                                                         MARTIN

“What of?”

                                     

                                                         ALPHA

Me. You. The way everybody's been.”

            (she glances toward her parents' bedroom)

“What makes a man afraid?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Everything. What you?”

                                         

                                                         ALPHA

            (playfully)

“I'm not, really, now that you asked.”

                                        

                                                         MARTIN

“Then, will. . .”  

            (It is impossible for him to repeat it.)

 

                                                         ALPHA

            (whispering)

“Yes,”

 

(MRS. JONES walks into the room just then, wearing a nightgown and a robe, and a dark shawl over her shoulders.)

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“Alpha, it's past time you were in bed.”

            (holding a quilt toward MARTIN)

“Here, this is yours.”

            (ALPHA retreats up the stairs)

“I sleep light,”

 

            (She leaves the room.)

   

                                                         JEROME

The floorboards above him groaned and creaked and gave out cracking sounds in the cold, and he tried to visualize Alpha above him, and when he did, so vividly, tried not to.

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (to himself)

What did Alpha do, moving around up there for such an eternal length of time, before she even got under the covers? Then there was a sound of springs as she settled into bed and that was worse. Her legs quicksilvery as moonlight entangled with sheets.

 

                                                         JEROME

He said three Hail Marys. His boyhood prayers, so familiar they no longer seemed constructed of language, went flying through his thoughts with the speed of an express.  He lost track of the times he'd touched his Adam's apple and rolled on his side and said an Act of Contrition so complicated with fleshy imagery it wouldn't have got him beyond the walls.

 

                                                         CHORUS

The fire in the potbellied stove was burned down and its bulging sides no longer gave off a glow.

 

                                                         JEROME

The fireplace wasn't intended to heat the house in this sort of weather

 

                                                         MARTIN

it seemed to be sucking up what warmth there was,

 

 

                                                         JEROME

and with the sudden absence of human sounds and movements, a deeper chill spread through the house.

                                                         MARTIN

            (to himself) 

Had Alpha said yes, or was it the wind and the fire? Her hand said yes, her fingertips touching his ring; the angle of her head, bowed so that her dark hair concealed her features, showing only her high brow bronzed by the fire; the fold of her legs below her dress, her bare feet, her tipped shoes lying beside them-all this said. . .

 

                                                         JEROME

            (stopping the fantasy)

Yes, yes, but did she?

 

                                                         MARTIN

Alpha and Martin Neumiller.

 

(During the next section of narration, the furniture in the Jones house is struck and reassembled in a similar pattern on another part of the stage.  In short, the interior of the Jones’ house is replaced by the interior of the Neumiller’s.)

 

                                                         JEROME

The names sounded indivisible on his tongue, but if she said yes, if they were to be married and not merely speculate in a romantic way about a future married state, as they had, then it would be difficult for them both from now on.

 

                                                         MARIE

Their mothers never spoke and didn't get along, which was a common enough predicament among married couples, perhaps, but in this landlocked state of so few people it was almost unheard of for neighbors not to talk, no matter the quirks of personality or grievances from the past, and their mothers were openly at odds.

 

(JEROME and MARIE fade into the background.  During MARTIN’s next line, members of the Neumiller household—MRS. NEUMILLER, VICE, FRED, and at least ONE CHILD—assemble around a kitchen table.)

           

                                                         MARTIN

Nearly five years ago, in the spring of '31, after his high-school commencement, his mother went out to get the mail and saw a stranger walking down the tracks at the end of their lane toward town.

            (MARTIN crosses into his house and sits) 

She came into the house and said,

 

 

 

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

“He was so little, I thought it was a child at first—also because he wasn't wearing a hat, not even a cap, mind you, in this weather. Then I saw that his hair was half gray. It was mussed up like a madman's and flying in the wind. He saw me and stopped, and I shook

in my boots. His eyes are as mean as an old billy goat's, and they were looking right through me. He made a sort of bow in my direction and then kept on in a beeline toward town. He walks with a limp.”

   

                                                         MARTIN

And she wondered if he could be a freight bum, or another of those Okies, or somebody she should know about.

   

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“Oh, that's old Ed Jones,”

 

                                                         MARTIN

my father said.

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“He just moved in at the Chet Hollingsworth place. I believe he comes from around Hannaford or Dazey.”

 

(Lights shift to evening.  Without warning, ED JONES crosses the stage, energetically singing a bar song.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

That night the Neumiller household woke to the sound of somebody singing and shouting obscene songs, and looked out to see a dim figure weaving down the tracks in the moonlight: Ed Jones on his way home.

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

Mother felt her children's ears had been scalded, and was convinced that Jones was trying to pervert their innocence.

 

                                                         MARTIN

She couldn't bear the least bit of obscenity (the worst words I ever heard my father use were gol-dammit and Scheiss, and those were in the barn) and couldn't tolerate

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

            (as if lecturing her children)

anybody who drank; a drinker was dissolute and bound for hell, and his family, to permit such a condition to exist, had to be as dissolute as the drinker, or at least tending in his direction, to continue to live on with him.

   

                                                         MARTIN

She had very little patience with non-Catholics in the first place,

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

with people who couldn't see, when it was right there in front of them, that the Catholic religion was the one true faith, since it had been founded by St. Peter and went way back to the time of the early Romans.

 

                                                         MARTIN

She was an Old World woman, proud of her religion and her family. Her largesse to the world was her children, and her only duty, other than to God, was to them, and now she wanted.

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

            (to MR. NEUMILLER)

somebody to do something about this dirty-mouthed Ed Jones.

   

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“Ach, Marie,”

   

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

“Well, if you don't, I will. I'll go out and tell him to use the road like everybody else. I'll give him the what for!”

   

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“Marie…” 

(slowly stands, gestures for his sons to follow him and crosses into the space recently violated by ED JONES) 

She was never equivocal with words and was at least one half of the force of the family to be dealt with, so one day his father walked down the lane to intercept Ed Jones on his way to town, with Martin and his two oldest brothers, Vince and Fred, trailing along behind him, and after introductions and a few pleasantries, their father,

           

                                                         MARTIN

who was absent of guile and by no means an artful conversationalist, said,

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“I wonder why you walk the tracks so much.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“I don't have a car, and I'll be gaddamned if I'll waste the wear and tear on a good team just to go into town and get soused, and that's where I'm bound. These tracks are the straightest shot I know from those two sections of quack grass back there, which some                                      

piker pawned off on me as a farm, to the closest gin mill. And after scratching in quack grass for a week straight, I don't mind admitting I like a shot of juice and a few pinches of snoose, or vicey-versa. What do you folks do about quack grass? I've never seen it grow so like unto an ungodly sonofabitch. I cultivate it with the machine, I beat it with a hoe, I keep the wife and daughter and the boy after it, I pull it up by hand-roots, runners, and all-and I even burn the crap.

            (MARTIN and his brothers laugh.) 

 

                                                         ED JONES (continued)

That's right, you laugh, you boys, but I do, by Christ, I burn a hayrack of it a day, and next week it's up as thick as ever, choking my crops.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

It was his tongue and way of talking the boys laughed at, not his problems or him.

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

            (to JONES)

The Hollingsworth place was one of the last pieces of land in the area to see the plow; the sod was turned under barely ten years ago, and only a few crops were put in before the Crash.

   

                                                         ED JONES

“So that's it. It'll take me years, then, or my life, before all that buried stuff comes up where I can give it the ax. Jesus. Well, I'm a hard-working old fart if there ever was one-it's true, you boys—and I'll keep at it till I win. It's partly my fault I got took on the land. I left my old place for this Hollingsworthless brute because of the barn. Have you ever been inside of it? It's a beauty. It's built better than a brick-Well, I've been in a lot of barns in my life and it's the best I've seen, and I've always maintained that if a man can't sleep in his own barn, then it isn't a fit place to keep his livestock. We burden the poor beasts with our work and whims their whole lives, we beat them—I do—we make money on them when the market's right, we don't let them run wild the way they did, so the least we can do in return is say 'No, goddamnit!' when it comes to locking them inside some drafty, stinking, jerrybuilt shack that's never warm and you can't keep clean, isn't it?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

They talked for a long time, or rather Jones talked while the Neumillers, taciturn by nature, listened, blinking, overcome by the outpour and gasconade. At last old Jones said he

 

                                                         ED JONES

Got to get on with it, expect to see you all soon,

 

                                                         MARTIN

and then headed down the tracks. They went in for supper and their mother said,

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

“Well?”

   

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“He seems all right to me. Let him walk where he wants.”

   

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

“What?”

   

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“Anybody who uses God's name as often as Jones has God's praise in his heart, or at least His fear.”

            (to his children)

“When you hear somebody take God's name in vain, you can change the words, in your own mind, into a silent prayer. Every man worships in his own way, and we're not here to judge one another.”

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

“But he's an atheist!”

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“Marie.”

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER 

“He's a drunkard, that's for sure.”

   

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“He's troubled.”

   

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

“Insane would hit it closer. He'll be back again tonight with his insane performance.”

   

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“He needs somebody to talk to. I'll try to make a point of it.”

   

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

“Is that right?”

   

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“What do you mean?”

   

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

“You always say, 'You are judged not by who you are or what you are, but by the company you keep.' “

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“For goodness' sake, Marie, I'm not in at Shella's drinking with Jones!”

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (to the audience)

Shella's was a Prohibition haunt.

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“I'm here with my family.”

  

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

“Jones is your neighbor.”

  

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“Marie! Be reasonable.”

   

                                                         MARTIN

(as he says this line, MARTIN stands and steps out of the Neumiller space and toward the audience, trailed by MRS. NEUMILLER) 

This admonition from father to mother meant that a topic was closed. Their mother hardly mentioned him again, but didn't seem appeased about him; and she was also suspicious of Jones's wife,

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

            (directly to the audience)

who was so much younger than he was, at least twenty years, that she looked like a niece or a housekeeper instead of a spouse. Was there something that a proper person wouldn't suspect of normal people going on there?

   

                                                         JEROME

            (stepping back into the action, retaking control of the narration)

A detached eighty of Neumiller land lay across the road from the Jones farm, which sat bare and unprotected on the plain, without even a windbreak of poplars around it;                          (MARTIN and MR. NEUMILLER appear upstage, working on a trunk as if it                   were a tractor)

Martin and his father were cutting barley on the eighty one day in the late summer of cloudless infinite blue. They'd had a series of breakdowns due to the rough going and glacial rock,

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (frustrated with his day)

plus third-hand equipment to begin with,

 

                                                         JEROME

and quit early in the day, before the first sign of darkening, and drove over to the Joneses' in the car and

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

asked if they could leave their tractor in the Joneses' farmyard instead of the field; there'd been trouble lately with migrants stealing parts and gasoline.

 

 

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Sure, sure. What the hell, you should've just driven it right on over. Jesus, what are neighbors for? Park her right over there. Come and have a drink first. Today's been a bitch.”

 

(JONES, who is with a cane he carries when he is on his property, and is sauntering and gesturing with the jerky torso movements of a short man, leads them down to a water tank. There is a tin can to drink from. They begin their conversation as Jones pumps the water. Both MR. NEUMILLER and MARTIN drink.)

                                                        

                                                            ED JONES (continued)

Yes, I take a good hand-pump over those motorized jobies. Same thing goes for tractors. Give me a good team of horses any day. All those machines are going to gas up the land, whereas horse apples are good for it. How many kids, altogether, did you say you have? Or did you? I've seen quite a number at your place.”

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“Eight,”

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (JONES whistles)

“Say, you folks aren't Catholic, are you?”

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER        

“Yes.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“I should have realized. You don't seem a fool, like me. I've got seven.”

            (sitting on the edge of the tank)

“How do you do it?”

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“What?”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Keep them all in food and clothes?”

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“I do repair work and carpentry in town. I might take a job as the janitor of the grade school this fall.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Yes, I don't think anybody can make it strictly on the land any more, not in this territory. We haven't got a goddamn nothin'. We're so hard up I had to farm out my oldest boys, Conrad and Wiling, and then I've got two little girls, Bernice and Kristine, who've lived

                                                         ED JONES (continued)

with a pair of maiden aunts for so long I hardly consider them mine any more. No, nobody has to worry about keeping up with these Joneses. Wiling, who's my oldest, is with the wife's sister and husband in Wisconsin, on a dairy farm outside the Twin Cities. The couple hasn't ever had any kids, not by choice, I don't think, but biology, so I imagine Wiling gets his share of attention. He's a hard worker and pretty bright, too, but I

must say—and I say this without compunction—I don't miss his tongue; he's a smartass like me. You can't tell him a thing and he's at the worst age now, eighteen.”

 

(during Jones speech, MARTIN has been drinking from the tin cup. Shortly before JONES finishes, MARTIN feels eyes on him and takes a quick look toward the house. He sees ALPHA’s face disappear from a window. Since MARTIN is eighteen, JONES' final line snaps him back into the conversation. This first meeting should be set off my some appropriate musical accompaniment.)

 

                                                         ED JONES (continued)

“Ah, but there's good in the boy's heart, too, God bless him. If he makes any money, any hard cash, he sends it home to Ma. He's out running and hustling one month and the next won't do horse piss for nothin'. Pardon that tongue. I imagine you folks are religious, so I'll try to watch it around you.  When Conrad writes home, which is seldom, it's like getting a letter from a nine-year-old. Conrad's seventeen. He's with my bachelor brother in Crosby, Minnesota. Hit a wasp across the border and you've got the place. Do you know it?”

 

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

“No, I've never been out of this state in my life,”

 

(During JONES's next speech, the door at the back of the house opens and ALPHA comes down the porch steps, and for MARTIN the air around her seems to lighten with each stride, as though she is walking from a more rarefied season into theirs. She stares at him as if to draw his attention with her stare, her eyes the poetical blue of deep affliction, and then seems impatient, or embarrassed that he was still talking, and turns up the stairs and inside again.  As with their first meeting, the appropriate musical accompaniment scores the connection.)

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Two of one is eight to another. There's fair-to-middling land around Crosby, and if this place doesn't work out we'll probably move there or closer that way. Not too close to my brother, Cal, though. He's a preacher and has a finger in his Bible most of the time. He also raises Aberdeen Angus breeding stock, and is he a sanctimonious soul, when you figure he preaches one day of the week and sets his bulls to it the other six. He once called me 'sinner-man.' Oh, Lord Christ, Cal!  Sinner-man.”

            (JONES wipes a long sudden tear from his big hooked nose)

“Well, Conrad seems not to rub him wrong, being the quiet type. Conrad's a tall fellow, taller than you, Martin. What are you? Six one?”

                                                         MARTIN

            (startled. He has been looking intently back at the house)

“Six foot exactly.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“You look taller than you are. He's six two. I can't understand where he gets his height, unless it's from the wife. He's slow-moving and a bit slow-witted, too, but not dumb. No, I've got no illusions about either of the boys, but I miss them. Also, on the practical side, I could use their help. My boy who's still here, Jerome, well he's the finest sort; obedient, bright-wheels within wheels always whirling and seesawing—in his head—but he's only ten and doesn't like farming. It appears he'll grow up to be the artist type. Now you have got to take a look at this barn.

           

                                                         MR. NEUMILLER

            (delivers line as he is pushed off by an enthusiastic ED JONES)

I wonder if we shouldn't get the tractor first.

 

            (ALPHA once again exits the house. She apprehensively crosses to MARTIN.)

           

                                                         ALPHA

“Mama's not feeling well and needs something from town. Would it be all right with your dad if you drove me in to get it.  My name is Alpha.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

Surely.

            (looking in the direction where his father left)

I can't see why he would mind.

 

(During JEROME’s line, they each take a seat on a trunk, used to symbolize the Model T.)

 

                                                            JEROME

All the way in to town she sat on the edge of the seat, bolt upright, gazing through the windscreen with such fixity it seemed she was guiding the car.

 

                                                            MARTIN

            (to ALPHA)

“Haven't you ridden in an automobile much?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Of course. We used to have two. You drive with half your mind.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Oh.  Are you through with high school?”

 

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I'll be a junior next year.”

 

 

                                                         MARTIN

“You're sixteen?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Not quite fifteen.”

 

            (She lifts her straight legs toward the dash and touches its bottom with her shins.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Do you like this part of the country?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“No.”

 

(The lights change. A variation of the music used earlier to underscore MARTIN and ALPHA’s first meeting plays. During their lines, JEROME and MARIE spread a blanket to symbolize a picnic area.  By “Martin Neumiller started dating Alpha Jones,” ALPHA and MARTIN are sitting on the blanket.)

           

                                                         MARIE

From this day forward for years he'd carried her image, suffused with the blue-dazed warmth, the heat of that day he'd driven her to town, and in all that time no woman had displaced it.

 

                                                         JEROME

Despite separation, shyness and other relationships, the image of that afternoon remained.

 

                                                         MARIE.

But it wasn't until five years later, in the late spring of 1934,

 

                                                         JEROME

when the Juneberry trees came into bloom, the grass greened and darkened with its health assured, and the sound of tractors plowing nearby fields on the campus of Valley City State Teachers College,

 

                                                         MARIE.

That Martin Neumiller started dating Alpha Jones.

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Don't you want to be out in the fields?”

 

 

                                                         MARTIN

“No. I want to be here.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Would you always like to be?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

What do you mean? Here with you?

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Here in Valley City,”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Sure. I guess.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I would. It's the most beautiful city I've seen. Whenever I'm ready to settle down, if I ever am, it'll be here for sure, you can bet your shirts on that, boys.”

 

                                                         MARIE.

Her “if I ever am” opened another new wound in him. The school year was over in a week. They returned home and the next day he drove over and asked Alpha to a movie. Mrs. Jones wouldn't let her go.

 

                                                         MARTIN

Mrs. Jones was a Missouri Synod Lutheran of the strictest sort, and didn't approve of

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

motion pictures, popular songs, dating in automobiles, tobacco, alcohol

 

                                                         ED JONES

-”Just a snort, Ma,”

 

                                                         MARIE.

-Jones would say when he was juiced-

 

                                                         ED JONES

“It'll put starch in your drawers,”-

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

profanity, cards, and gambling;

 

                                                         MARTIN

and she had a hardly mentionable low opinion, like most Lutherans of her mold, of Roman Catholics. It seemed unsavory to her, just to begin with,

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

the way they bred so much.

 

 

                                                         MARIE.

Alpha's mother couldn't be called unkind, couldn't be faulted in any of the ways that might suggest sin, but she'd remained standoffish toward him, a cold uncoiling barrier.

 

                                                         JEROME

Remarkably, Martin grew to feel more comfortable with Ed Jones.

 

            (ED JONES crosses to MARTIN and puts his arm on his shoulder.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

Jones himself was friendly; when Martin entered the yard, he'd come out with his cane, so garrulous and exclamatory he was a welcoming party in one, and clap Martin on the back.

 

                                                         ED JONES

Ha!

 

                                                         MARTIN

and call him

 

                                                         ED JONES

boy” and “son”

 

                                                         MARTIN

He broke into moments that might be termed paternal advice:

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Never lamp a dog, boy. Never look one straight in the eye. It shortens his life and scares the hell out of him. He thinks you've come down to his level, and what he needs is a

master, a real seeing and overseeing eye. A dog needs one. And never stare at a person when he's asleep. It'll mix up his thoughts.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

He spoke to him as an old-timer about Roosevelt,

 

                                                         ED JONES

“That ass-kissing oaf,”

 

                                                         MARTIN

draft horses, and thoroughbreds,

 

 

                                                         ED JONES

the repeal of Prohibition,

 

                                                         MARTIN

and their common interest,

                                                         MARTIN & ED JONES

baseball.

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Has beens is what we are, both of us.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

Before he threw out his shoulder in a college game—a  day that also meant the end of his college scholarship at the University of North Dakota—Martin showed considerable promise as a pitcher.

 

                                                         ED JONES

Jones loved the game

 

                                                         MARTIN

and claimed to have played some in the minor leagues in his youth.

(JEROME jogs on with two baseball gloves. He gives one to his father and they begin playing catch)

Perhaps sparked by his conversations with Martin, Jones started teaching Jerome to pitch.

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (To MARTIN)

“Well, well, we've got to have one in the family, eh, boy?”

            (delivered in the style of baseball chatter)

Jones down in a crouch with a farmer's cap he never usually wore turned backward on his head, snapping the ball to Jerome and keeping up a natural chatter,

 

                                                         JEROME

Jerome going into the pump and windup and working on the stretch and form and control,

 

                                                         MARTIN

so absorbed that Jones would only glance at Martin between pitches, with a look that was business-like, and then get on with it. Or talk to Jerome so personally you wanted to leave them alone as Father and son.

 

(MARTIN leaves the scene. For the next section, JEROME and MARIE share the narration as if each is helping the other to remember more details about the most colorful character from their family history. The tableau of father and son playing catch underscores the dialogue between MARIE and JEROME.)

 

 

                                                         MARIE

Most folks only know bits and pieces of Ed Jones' past; besides playing baseball somewhere in the minor leagues and riding horses,

 

                                                         JEROME

he traveled as a supporting lead with an itinerant Shakespearean company and

 

                                                         MARIE

            (she begins to laugh)

worked for a while as a ballroom-dancing instructor. This was before he'd hurt his leg, which was shattered at the knee by the kick of a horse.

 

                                                         JEROME

He traveled through most of the East and Midwest, moving in many strata of society, and was, as he said,

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (briefly turning away from the game of catch)

part Welsh, part Scotch-Irish, part Norsky

 

                                                         MARIE

—”Norsky” to irritate her mother, a full-blooded Norwegian—,

 

                                                         ED JONES

and part sonofabitch.

 

                                                         JEROME

He married Alpha's mother when she was nineteen and he in his forties.

 

                                                         MARIE

Nobody knew his exact age, not even his wife;

 

                                                         JEROME

he sometimes claimed he was born in 1869,

 

                                                         MARIE

and then swore it was 1879,

 

                                                         JEROME

And he'd also mentioned every year within that decade, saying his memory slipped.

 

                                                         MARIE

He was courtly yet flirtatious with every female he met, combining in himself flattery, deference, intricate courtesies from another century, smooth talk, and winks.

 

 

                                                         JEROME

He felt he'd been plagued most of his life by missed opportunities,

 

                                                         MARIE.

that his sense of timing was out of tune with the world's,

 

                                                         JEROME

that his closest friends had betrayed him the worst,

 

                                                         MARIE.

for they'd all betrayed him,

 

                                                         JEROME

and that a curse had been placed on his life by a hostile and unremitting God.

 

                                                         MARIE

He was an alcoholic, of course.

 

            (Pause. MARTIN and ALPHA appear in the car.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

Once on the way home from a baseball game in Wimbledon, Alpha told Martin that she had an 

 

                                                         ALPHA

awful truth” to confess.

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (to himself)

Had Jones beaten her? Had she been with someone else? “Well? What is it?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Daddy's been married before this. Mama's not his first wife. He's been divorced. Mama just told me. You might as well take me home.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“But, Alpha, I was aware of that.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“You were? Well, how, for God's sakes”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“I assumed it was common knowledge. Most of the town knows. I believe your father even mentioned it to me once.”

 

 

                                                         ALPHA

“He did?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Yes.”

 

                                                            ALPHA

“When?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“A couple of years ago, I think.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Then why didn't you say something about it to me, you lame-brain? Just how do you suppose this makes me feel?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“But, Alpha, I hardly knew you then. I—

 

                                                         ALPHA

“You know me now, dammit to hell!”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Well, yes, of course, but I always assumed that you'd be the first to learn about anything like—”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Oh, shut up,”

 

                                                         MARTIN

They said nothing to each other for a time and then Alpha asked him to

 

                                                         ALPHA

stop the noise of the car so we could talk.

 

                                                         MARTIN

He pulled off the side of the road, into some weeds, and killed the engine.

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Yes?”

            (ALPHA leans her head on his chest and doesn't say a word)

“I want you to know that what you've told me doesn't bother me one bit,”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“What about your parents?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Ach.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Your mother, then?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Oh, well. She has enough of her own to worry about.”

 

(She kisses him through his shirt. He slides down in the seat and puts his arm around her above her waist. Their romantic actions correspond with Jerome’s narration.  The “Y—oooooooooooooooouuu” spoken by the CHORUS should sound like the distant call of a dove’s song.)

 

                     JEROME                                                            CHORUS.

There was a ghost of a full moon in the sky                   

and the three notes of the dove's song, the                     Y--oooooooooooooooouuu

first two proclaiming the two of them     He-e-e-a-ar-r-r-r-rt

together and alone, You and You, and the

last long Oooo as stretched out and desolate                 He-e-e-a-ar-r-r-r-rt

as the plain. Heart, heart, does it have to end     Y--oooooooooooooooouuu

here? He put his fingertips to her chin and                      He-e-e-a-ar-r-r-r-rt

lifted her face, pupils large and dark,                 Y--oooooooooooooooouuu

and kissed her on the mouth. . . and

 

                                                         JEROME & MARIE.

(Immediately before this line, both JEROME and MARIE rap their hands on either side of the bench that is being used to represent the seat of Martin's car)

Something struck the windscreen and they jumped.

 

                                                         JEROME

Fifty feet away, above them on the railway embankment, was old Ed Jones, who flung aside some pebbles in a silent spray.

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Get that girl of mine home this instant, boy, before I take you and your car apart!”

 

(In a drunken swoon, he continues on down the railroad tracks, leaving MARTIN and ALPHA alone in the car.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (after the shock subsides)

“Has he ever beaten you?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Yes.”

            (The scene fades to transition light. Music from the piano plays softly.)

 

                                                         MARIE.

The rest of the summer Ed Jones was busy in the barn whenever Martin showed up. He and Alpha went back to Valley City in the fall.

 

                                                         JEROME

It was the most rewarding year of school for Alpha and Martin; they were together as often as they wanted, and were more involved in the theater, the forensic society, the debate team, and their separate church groups, and their grades were better for a change.

 

                                                         MARIE.

And then the Juneberry trees pronounced the end of the term, and Alpha received her Standard Certificate,

 

                                                         ALPHA

which qualified her to teach in the lower grades, and said she was going to get a job right away; she wanted to help out at home and also put aside enough money to send Jerome through school.

 

                                                         MARIE

During the summer that followed,

 

                                                         JEROME

the summer of '35,

 

                                                         MARIE

everything changed.

 

(ED JONES  and MRS. JONES sit together. In the following exchange, they recount a part of their past that is, although no longer fresh, still alive with feelings of joy, sorrow, and pain. Even though they know the price, they seem to genuinely want to share their precious memories. To make this scene work, the audience must be cast in the role of a close and intimate friend. During their exchange, in a separate pool of light, JEROME JONES sits reading a book.)

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

Jerome was precocious, an avid reader and a recluse who went for long walks over the plain, sometimes as far as Verendrye Creek, where he'd sit for hours and—Who knows why he went there and sat? He didn't like to fish. He didn't believe in blood sports of any

kind. He didn't like violence. He was the only one who could calm Ed Jones when he was drunken, or unhinged, or

 

                                                         ED JONES

out on a wren's perch with a wild hair up my ass,”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

as he put it to drinking friends.

 

                                                         ED JONES

Jerome knew the native plants and wildlife and was always the first in the area to find the season's first wildflower. He showed it to Alpha and then gave it to his mother. He was four years younger than Alpha and with Mrs. Jones ill so often Alpha had partly raised him, and was maternal toward him, but also spoke to him and of him in a straight-forward and womanly-like way. He had an unnerving habit of staring off in the distance while he wound and unwound his hair around a finger.

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“What's beyond those mountains?”

 

                                                         ED JONES

his mother would ask.

            (he pauses at the pleasant memory)

He tried to get the town of Courtenay to start an Audubon Club, a Wildlife Club, an Izaak Walton League, or even something local, but there was no interest.

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

He was often talking, in the phrase of the time, of . . .

            (he looks to her husband for help)

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

conservation of the land,”

 

                                                         ED JONES

and when the family had any sort of fruit, which was hard to get this far north, even in the summer, he gathered up the seeds and planted them in different types of soil in different locations.

 

                                                         ED JONES & JEROME JONES

Would they grow here? Had it ever been tried in North Dakota?

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

He broke into an abandoned farmhouse because he'd heard there was money in its basement, and confessed to the act the day after, before the break-in was discovered;

 

                                                         ED JONES

and when his mother, hysterical at the lawlessness of it, asked him why he'd do anything so irresponsible and foolish, he said,

           

            (JONES gets choked up thinking about it.)

 

 

                                                         MRS. JONES & JEROME JONES

            (finishing the sentence for him)

“I wanted Dad to be rich.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (changing the subject to compose himself)

He had a strong pitching arm for his age and was developing a breaking curve, and planned to try out for the high school team in the fall. Then there was a steamy scandal at school when Jerome, who was at the head of his eighth-grade class, was discovered in the furnace room with Eunice Winandy, lying on the janitor's cot.

 

(JONES irreverently laughs at the situation. MRS. JONES is not amused.  In JEROME’s playing space, a CHORUS MEMBER playing EUNICE WINANDY trots on.  In a sweet tableaux of innocent love, the two sit together)

 

                                                         ED JONES (continued)

Jerome was allowed, after a suspension and deliberation among the teachers and school board and community leaders, to graduate as valedictorian.

 

(ALPHA enters the scene to join in the reminiscence.  She brings with her a glass jar that she sets on the floor next to MRS. JONES.)

 

                                                         ALPHA

Martin's father, who was working as the janitor and was the one who discovered them, might have had a hand in the decision; the superintendent kept coming to him and he kept assuring the superintendent that, yes, Jerome's knickers were buttoned when he walked in on them.

 

                                                         ED JONES

Jerome's commencement address also caused a stir. He didn't keep to his written text, as he'd been instructed to, and in his extempore speech insinuated that the community was hypocritical; the natural beauty left in the area, the real plains grassland, he said, would soon be lost, along with people's false pride in it, if all that governed their lives was progress, plowing up more land, and money.

 

                                                         ALPHA

Alpha stood and applauded when he was finished;

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

she'd bought him a copy of Theodore Roosevelt's essays as a graduation gift.

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Dammit, girl,”

 

                                                         ALPHA

Ed Jones whispered, and jerked on her skirt.

                                                         ED JONES

“Sit! They think we're crazy the way it is, the bastards.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

            (imitating her father’s delivery and enjoying the camaraderie)

“The bastards.”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

Jerome said he wasn't going to the class picnic.

            (suddenly the mood changes from light-hearted to grave)

He felt he'd changed. He wanted to stay home and help his father; there

was fieldwork to be done, cattle to fix, the sheep were lambing, and he knew he'd neglected his duties on the farm up until now.

 

                                                         ED JONES

But Mrs. Jones told him there would only be one such picnic as this, and one afternoon out of this new life wasn't too much to ask, and besides, what would people say if the valedictorian wasn't there. 

(for the first time, JEROME JONES steps out of his playing area and crosses into the JONES’ playing space.  MRS. JONES picks up the jar, stands, and crosses to him)

She gave him a two-quart jar of pickles to take.

 

(Mother and son look briefly into each other’s eyes.  JEROME then lightheartedly and youthfully turns away.  Overcome by emotion, MRS. JONES exits the space.)

 

                                                         ALPHA

The pickles rode between Jerome and Eunice Winandy on the drive to Spiritwood Lake. A close watch was kept on the two the entire day;

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (trying to keep going, but obviously affected)

the superintendent wasn't about to trust a pair who'd demonstrated how brazenly they'd comport themselves if given a chance.

 

(By this time, the rest of the CHORUS have assembled in the center stage area to play the picnic-goers.  They create a boat out of one of the trunks and stylistically pole it out from shore.  JEROME and EUNICE take positions in the center of the boat.  For the remainder of this scene, presentational staging techniques depict the action carried in the narrative line.)

 

                                                         ALPHA

After the picnic, Jerome and Eunice, and two of Jerome's friends and their girls, got into a boat and poled a ways out from shore. Jerome stripped down while people from the shore looked on aghast, and then they saw that he was wearing bathing trunks.

 

                                                         ALPHA & JEROME JONES

“I bet I can make it to the diving float,”

 

                                                         ALPHA

he said to his friends, and leaped overboard and went under as though weighted. His friends and the observers on shore thought he was playing a trick when he didn't at first

appear, and then they knew it was serious. A lifeguard was on duty, but it wasn't until twenty minutes later that Jerome was pulled into a boat, releasing streams of water into the lake. The lifeguard labored over him for a half hour, saying,

 

                                                         ALPHA & CHORUS (Lifeguard)

“Jerome, Jerome,”

 

                                                         ALPHA

as though Jerome were his brother, and then in a desperate voice

 

                                                         ALPHA & LIFEGUARD

“Jerome.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

Jerome lay at last on his back on the ground, still and water-blanched and composed, his open eyes staring out beyond the faces of his classmates as at the dim-visioned dreams along a creek bank now dead within him.

 

                                                         MARTIN

The superintendent and the lifeguard brought his body back in the superintendent's car, but stopped first at the Neumillers and got Martin to help them face the Joneses with this.

           

(For the rest of this memory, he serves as both participant and narrator. ED JONES and MRS. JONES painfully replay their roles in the terrible drama.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

Mrs. Jones got into the car and uncovered his body and held him and talked to him as if he were alive and listening to her, while he lay in her arms with his head thrown back, his blue mouth open to her kisses, a milky substance forming over his eyes, and no one, not even Alpha, dared to part her from him. The lifeguard and I walked out to where Jones was cultivating corn with the horses. Jones pulled up the reins, threw them loose over the cultivator seat, and came trotting up to them.

           

                                                         ED JONES

“What is it?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

he asked. His face was drawn back against its bones and he was breathless from the run.

 

 

                                                         LIFEGUARD

“Mr. Jones, I'm terribly sorry. Well, er—”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“What is it?”

 

                                                         LIFEGUARD

“It's Jerome.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“He's drowned,”

 

                                                         LIFEGUARD

“Yes, he—”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“I knew it, by Jesus. I knew it, I knew it, I did.”

(JONES pulls the bandanna from around his neck and throws it to the ground. He yells at the sky)

“You sonofabitch!! You dirty double-dealing sonofabitch! I'm never going to be sober again in my life. I'm going to shoot all the livestock! I'm going to throttle the wife and that frigging prissy-ass daughter of hers!”

(his knees give out and he falls on the ground and says in a voice broken by hiccups and a sob)

“Wake me when the world gets off, dear Jesus.”

 

BLACK-OUT

 

(From the darkness, one of the CHORUS sings the first verse of Amazing Grace accompanied by the piano.  The music transitions into a Lutheran funeral hymn played in a minor key.  The lights come up slowly on MRS. JONES sitting, gripping a handkerchief, wiping her face.  Her voice rises above the melody.)

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

When something awful like this happened to a stranger, I always thought,

Oh Lord God, what did they do to deserve that?  And I never, no never ever

thought I'd be saying someday to myself, What did I do to deserve this? Oh, Lord God of Mercy, Man of Sorrows, what did I do to deserve this?  I'm worse off than an owl or that pelican in the wilderness You talk about in Your Book!  I can't be comforted!  I'm dying of grief!

 

(MARTIN is revealed standing in the JONES' farm yard with ALPHA collapsed in his arms)

 

 

 

                                                         MARIE.

Martin did all he could to comfort Alpha after the drowning; took her for drives nearly every night, consoled her and held her, got her to talk about Jerome as much as she could, and gave her his class ring.

 

(MARTIN gives ALPHA his ring. They kiss softly and ALPHA enters the house. Unknown to them ED JONES comes from the rear of the house and sees them kiss. He is staggering, visibly drunk.)

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (Stumbling out from the side of the house)

“You screwed her yet?”

            (MARTIN blushes and stares at his shoes. In a louder voice, JONES asks)

“I say, you spoil her yet?”

            (no response)

                                                         ED JONES (continued)

“Pardon?”

            (JONES spits a tobacco-browned stream to one side)

“Cat got your tongue? I hear that's all you Catholics like to do. Whoo-whoooo! Is that right? What I heard, I mean?”

           

(MARTIN and JONES stare at each other. Eventually, JONES makes a disgusted sound with his breath and stumbles back toward the rear of the house. The lights fade to black except on JEROME.)

 

                                                         JEROME

Things continued to get worse for Ed Jones and everyone around him. One evening Martin came to take Alpha to a movie—movies were no longer verboten—

(The lights come up to reveal the interior of the JONES' house and the time changes to early evening. MARTIN and MRS. JONES are in the kitchen. ED JONES and another man are sitting in the living room.)

and heard Jones talking with a neighbor and drinking crony, Len Melstrom in the front room, so he waited in the kitchen, where Mrs. Jones was at the table leafing through a Sears, Roebuck catalog.

 

                                                         CHORUS (Melstrom)

mackerel-snappers.”

 

(Unbelieving of what he just heard, MARTIN clears his throat in a loud and rattling way to let the men know he was in the house.)

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Show me a Catholic, and I'll show you a hypocrite! They're the most sanctimonious band of—”

 

 

                                                         MARTIN

Were they drunk?

 

(He coughs and clears his throat again, and kicks his toes against the floor as if they were freezing.)

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (louder than before)

“They'll trample or maim a man and call it divine, because they're the chosen and doing what's right. They've got a direct line to the Almighty, you see, and we don't, and I'll tell you why; it's because of the beads!”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

            (getting up from the table)

 “Excuse me.”

(she pauses with her hand on the door and turns on him the vague and glazed eyes of a convalescent)

 “Excuse him.”

 

            (Powerless and afraid, she exits to her bedroom.)

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (conspiratorially)

“The daughter here is going with one, you know. Oh, he's all right by me, he's a fine boy, upstanding, upright-polite, cool—but someday, if she doesn't watch it, I say.”

            (he speaks with more volume and with a change in tone)

“I say, 'Alpha, one of these days you're going to have a dozen kids in the same room with you, all of them swinging those rosaries like lassos, and yelling, Yippee! Whoopee, Ma! Let's go to church!’”

 

                                                         MARIE.

On trembling legs Martin made it out the door, out the back porch, and down to the water tank. He pumped water over his head and wiped the back of his neck and the insides of his wrists with a wet handkerchief, and then got into the Model A. Alpha came out at last, flushed and tearful.

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I just gave him hell. He's never said any such foolishness to me in my life, although now I've heard it, of course. I'm leaving home no later than a week from now.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Oh, Alpha!”

(ALPHA slumps in the seat, her face pale and empty of expression and stares at a kerchief she keeps wadding and squeezing in her lap)

“If either of you pipsqueaks in there has anything you really want to say to me, then why don't you say it out here, where I can see if you really intend to make a joke of it.”

                                                         ALPHA

“No. Please. Don't. He's been even worse to Mama about her religion, especially recently. It's because of Jerome. Also because your mother never comes to talk. Yesterday he said—

            (she stops as though a hand were at her throat)

 

                                                         MARTIN

“What?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“He said, 'If there was a God, I'd wring His neck, the bastard.”

 

            (The lights fade.  Music.  Lights come up on JEROME and MARIE.)

 

                                                         JEROME

There was a sound of logs rumbling down a wooden runway,

 

                                                         MARIE.

or else another part of his dream was rising through this one.

 

(By this time MARTIN has made his way back to couch as seen near the beginning of Act One.  He huddles under blankets.)

 

                                                         JEROME

He slipped out of half sleep into a skin cold and oily from sleeping in his clothes. He opened an eye to the darkness under the quilt.

 

                                                         MARTIN

Where was he now?

 

                                                         CHORUS.

There was whispering in the kitchen, and now it was real, unattached to the luxurious tangle he could weave of it in dreams, and then the back door banged, utensils were moved, a liquid was poured, and the wet bottom of a kettle started stuttering on the stove top. He strained to hear overhead, but the floorboards were silent, and then the back door opened and closed, and footsteps came across the kitchen, snow creaking under them against the cold linoleum.

 

            (ED JONES walks in holding an armful of firewood.)

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

            (In a harsh whisper)

“Ed.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Yes yes yes, sweet love.”

                                                         MRS. JONES

“What are you doing?”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“What does it look like? I'm taking this in there.

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“No, you aren't.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“You mean this stuff? What the hell. It's clean snow.”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“You'll wake him.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“He's got to get up and get out of here, by God!”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“But that's so rude.”

 

(JONES walks into the living room and dumps the kindling into a woodbox close to MARTIN's felt head. He then starts to build-up the fire.)

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Hey, boy, aren't you awake yet?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (Uncovering his head)

Yes. Good morning.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Good morning, hell! Well, I finally got that windmill shut off before it rattled its goddamn brains out. The wind quit at four and I ran out then. I don't suppose I woke you.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“No.”

           

                                                         ED JONES

“I figured not. It's a good thing you're going into education, is what I say. You don't have what it takes to make a dirt grubber, boy. What time do you teachers have to get up? It's nine o'clock now.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Oh.”

                                                         ED JONES

“You're damn tootin! And it's thirty below out.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Oh.”

 

                                                         ED JONES        

“Oh, oh. Didn't you hear what I said?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Yes. I mean, what's that you said?”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“I said it was nine o'clock, boy.”

 

(ED JONES crosses upstage to MRS. JONES.  She wraps a scarf around his neck and straightens his winter hat.  She then hands him MARTIN’s hat, gloves, and scarf.  This happens during JEROME and MARIE’s narration.)

 

                                                         JEROME

Of what importance was time on this particular morning, on the new day of the New Year, snowed in by the blizzard, when he was looking forward to helping Jones with the chores, and having leftovers from last night, and more quiet card games and genial talk;

 

                                                         MARIE.

and was hoping for the chance, after another tête-à-tête with Alpha

 

                                                         MARTIN

—if she'd said yes and would agree—

 

                                                         MARIE.

to announce their marriage to her parents first, on the occasion of this day.

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (JONES moves closer to MARTIN)

“Hey, boy, what the hell is it with you?”

 

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (shoving off the quilt and sitting)

“The cattle?”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Cattle, hell. They've been taken care of hours ago.”

 

(MARTIN slips his stockinged feet into the cold sheaths of his shoes and laces them.)

                                             ED JONES (continued)

“I tried cranking your Model A for a quarter hour and couldn't even make it go poot. How do you adjust your spark?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“All the way down.”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

            (there is ringing laugh from the kitchen)

That's what I suggested to the old fool all along!”

 

                                                         JEROME

(during this speech, MARTIN, with the help of JONES, gets himself ready to go outside)

Martin started trembling and not from the cold. They were turning him out on purpose before Alpha was up. They'd worked up this plot together, for some reason, and were delirious with the way it was moving ahead of him.

 

(JONES acts drunk. He scours his leather mittens together and gives them a clap close to MARTIN's head, shows his teeth in a fake smile, or so it seems, and strides into the kitchen like a marionette. MARTIN follows. MRS. JONES is at the cookstove stirring a steaming pot. She turns and gives him a merry smile.)

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“Good morning, at last. Sorry you can't have breakfast.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Jesus, boy, you look like the soup's been sucked out of your bones.”

 

(MARTIN turns to thank MRS. JONES but hardly gets it out before she plops his cap on his head.)

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“There's no need for thanks. Goodbye, Martin. My best to you.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“You're so bass-ackwards and slow and sheepish this morning, boy, I'd say it was because you haven't taken your morning leak yet.”

           

                                                         JEROME

He straightened, standing tall above Jones, and decided now was the moment to have his say about this,

(JONES grabs his elbow, opens the kitchen door, pulls him onto the back porch) but Jones pushed him outside door and two shafts of pain, like flying icicles, were driven home above his eyes. When he finished blinking and his vision cleared and

became grayly chromatic, he saw the Model A stranded in a drift up above its running board. A team of black Percherons, stomping and nodding against the traces and blowing blossomy plumes from their frost-ringed nostrils, stood at the front of the car, hitched to its bumper with logging chains and eveners, their heads stamped upon the morning with a permanence that made them shine.)

 

                                                         MARIE

The white day was still as death. Jones took his arm and started ragging him through drifts, through deep trails left by the horses' big hooves.

 

(During MARIE’s speech, the CHORUS assembles to represent a team of Percherons tied to the Model A.  The lights change from a warm and comfortable interior to an almost painfully bright exterior.  ED JONES and MARTIN’s movements during the next sequence are restricted by three feet of fresh, imaginary snow.  Their walking takes on a form similar to goose-stepping.)

 

                                                         JEROME

The white day was still as death.  Jones took his arm and started ragging him through drifts, through deep trails left by the horses’ big hooves.

 

                                                         ED JONES

“I know it looks pretty bad, but I walked out to the main road and it's already been

traveled, so there won't be any trouble once we get that far, or if there is I'll pull you all

 the way on into town. And there, by Jesus, is the team that can do it.”

            (JONES turns to him with a smile of pride, but it changes into consternation.)

“I'll be go to hell.  A tie.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“A tie?”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Aren't you well, boy, or didn't you sleep last night either, or what? I'm not up on all your rigmarole, but I know today is a holy day of consecration, or whatever, and you've got to get to church. Now, do you want to borrow a tie from me?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (finally figuring out the confusion of the morning)

“Oh, no. I have one in my pocket. I—”

            (he started to pull it out)

 

                                                         ED JONES

“My first wife was a Catholic, you know, so I'm up on a few of the ins and outs of your Church. That first marriage was so unfortunate, I can't begin to tell you how. We had to

                                                         ED JONES (continued)

get married, knocked up. I've got another daughter roaming the world somewhere. I didn't even tell Ma herself until a few years back-I was afraid she wouldn't have me if she knew that-and then when I finally did, to explain why this girl kept writing me, she got so out of hand I had to say, 'Well, dammit, Ma, the girl was a Catholic! What did you expect?'

            (Pause)

And now it seems imprudent of me to have said that. It rankled Ma more than ever about that marriage, and sure as hell didn't do you any good. Ma was a regular churchgoer once, too, you know, so she understands how important this is for you, and she's been after me all morning to get you to town by ten, when your Mass is. There at the first, when you first showed an interest in Alpha, I suppose Ma figured you were just out to give her the dong and then run off, and I must admit, because of my experience, I thought the same thing. But I knew you were serious about her from the way you took her in hand after Jerome—When. After that, I didn't think I could keep myself together if she went off and left us too, but of course I can. I'm going to stop trying to scare you off now. That's my New Year's resolution. Well, it's one of them.” (He winks an ice-fringed eye at him) “I must say, though, I do feel a lot better, now that you've gone and proposed. Easy, now. I know all about it, and I'll always be able to say I was one of the first to know. The old lady-Oh, Lord, why do we call them that when we never think of them that way, especially in bed. The wife, Mrs. Jones, overheard you and Alpha talking last night. She wasn't snooping. She's not a snooper. She just happened to hear, and when she came in to bed she told me. Didn't you hear us? We were up half the night. Can you imagine me a grandfather? Jesus! And then Alpha couldn't sleep with the excitement of it, so she came down around five, after I got the gag on that windmill, and told me to my face, and I had

to pretend it was the first I'd heard of it, and go through the hugging and kissing and try to shed a tear. It's too bad you sleep so late and we're so rushed, because the wife and I wanted you to know how much we wish you well.”

            (JONES grabs MARTIN's hand and grips it through mitten and glove)  

“Do you want to know something else, boy?”

            (MARTIN nods, which is all he can do)  

“Well, with all the churchgoing and whatnot the wife has had, it really pleased me that I was the one, not her, who knew about this holy day and how you had to be to church on it-which I wouldn't have known, by heaven, if I hadn't been married to a Catholic once, and, Jesus, doesn't it amaze you the way the world goes round?”

 

(Lights fade from an exterior to an interior. If possible, a gobo of a stained glass window reflects of the rear-stage wall.  The CHORUS seamlessly transition from the team of horses to a line of people kneeling at a communion rail.  MARTIN steps onto the space and kneels in the center of the group.  JEROME and MARIE are at either side of the stage.)

 

                                                         JEROME

Less than a half hour later,

 

                                                         MARIE.

Martin was kneeling in the furnace-heated warmth of St. Boniface Church in Wimbledon,

                                                         MARIE and JEROME

asking God if Alpha could be his wife.

 

            BLACK-OUT

 


ACT TWO

 

(MARIE, JEROME, CHARLES, and TIM enter the playing space and search through the trunks.  TIM pulls out a file folder and begins reading)

 

                                                         TIM

JOB APPLICATION. THE QUALIFICATIONS OF MARTIN NEUMILLER. PERSONAL DATA: I am twenty-three years of age, six feet tall, and weigh 185 pounds. My physical condition is excellent. I am a Catholic, but have lived all my life in a Protestant community, and so I can be at ease among Protestants as well as Catholics.

            (MARTIN and MRS. NEUMILLER enter the playing space)

In 1931, I was graduated from Courtenay High School. I attended the State University at Grand Forks for one semester in the school year of I931,

           

                                                         TIM & MARTIN

and in 1933 enrolled at Valley City. From the State Teachers College I have received my Standard Certificate and will receive my degree in May, thus completing my work on the Secondary Degree Curriculum.

 

            (TIM and family retreat to the background.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

SCHOLASTIC RECORD: The titles of the courses of interest I have had in college are literature, Drama, Grammar. . .

           

(The lights come up on the opposite side of the stage to reveal ALPHA Although he continues to read, MARTIN's voice fades out when ALPHA begins to speak.)

 

                                                         ALPHA 

NOV 24. Dear Diary, Martin took me to Thanksgiving dinner in the Belmont Hotel and proposed a late December date for our wedding. I approved. So toward the 22nd we go, hearts clean as razors, and I'm praying all the way.

 

                                                         MARTIN

FORENSICS EXPERIENCE. In high school, I participated in dramatics, readings, and oratory. . .

 

                                                         ALPHA

NOV 26. At Home. Ironed clothes, seven dress shirts for Daddy, and did other Saturday chores, trying to work up courage to tell Mama about our wedding date, and did, finally, down on my knees with floor wax. To my great surprise she took it with calm. Daddy just laughed and made eyes like a wolf. Woof! Mama planned and talked and gave me simple womanly advice, and I was so happy I wanted to hug her and say, “I love you, Mama! I'll miss you a lot!”

 

 

                                                         MARTIN

PREFERRED SUBJECTS. . . I prefer to teach English, History, German, and General Science, but am willing and feel qualified to teach, in addition, Physics, Psychology, Algebra, and Botany.

 

                                                         ALPHA

DEC 11. I had yet another session with Father Krull. I was wondering to him if I hadn't got interested in religion because of Jerome, and wanted to say some kind word to him now, and then he said,

 

                                                         CHORUS (Father Krull).

            (stepping from the shadows)

“Why don't we just spend a few minutes together in silence.

 

                                                         ALPHA

I listened and heard the Lord in currents of wind through wheat or flax! I'm alive at last or have died.

 

                                                         MARTIN

RECOMMENDATIONS . . . If interested in my application, you may secure my references by writing the College Placement Bureau here at Valley City.

 

            (MARTIN pauses in wait of an opinion)

           

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

“Well, it certainly is complete. I can say that.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“That's what I want.”

 

                                                         MRS. NEUMILLER

            (concerned)

“I was wondering, though, why you put this in, in the first paragraph here, this about Catholics and Protestants.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Because I figure I might as well lay it right on the line.”

 

                                                         CHORUS.

TEA WITH FATHER KRULL

           

(During this next passage the CHORUS MEMBER playing FATHER KRULL steps forward and occupies an playing area representing his study at the rectory. Dressed in a dark jacket and a priest’s collar, he slowly feels his way along an imaginary wall leading to two chairs.)

           

                                                         ALPHA

Even before Father Krull was ordained a priest, he was looked on as bishop material, perhaps even the stuff of which cardinals are made. He loved old books, footnotes, knowledge, the smell of dusty pages. He move up the ranks quickly and was put in charge of larger and larger congregations. He was about to be made a monsignor and be transferred again to the cathedral in Fargo, St. Mary's, and be a part of the gang of boys in the bishop's office there, at St. Mary's, when he asked to serve, instead, as pastor of the church in, Courtenay; Courtenay was Father Krull's hometown, his birthplace. He was sent to Courtenay. Within the year it became obvious why he'd asked to be sent there. He was going blind. He wanted to go blind on home ground.

 

                                                         CHORUS (Father Krull)

“Is there anything in this lesson that bothers you?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“The Trinity. Those three-Gods-in-one.”

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“There's a tale, probably apocryphal, about one of the saints—Thomas or Peter, I believe. He was walking a beach, sand with rocks around, determined to prove his worth and solve the riddle of the Trinity, when he saw a golden-haired boy filling a sea shell with water and pouring it out on the beach. 'What are you doing?' the saint is said to have asked. 'I'm emptying the sea, sir,' the boy told him. ‘Even if you kept at it without a rest, you could never do such a thing in your entire lifetime, my boy,’ the saint said. ‘Nor will you, in your lifetime, sir, understand the Trinity,’ the boy said, and disappeared.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Why didn't the saint offer to help?”

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“Oh, ho, you!”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I don't know if I'm angry at the Trinity itself—I mean, not the people in it—or just so prejudiced against the Church I figure everything it teaches is purposely misleading me.”

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“If it were either of those, I don't think you'd be here.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Don't I have to be, sir?”

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“Ha! Yes, but you could sit there, like the others I counsel, and keep saying, 'Uh huh, uh huh,' so I could say 'Fine' and you could get married. It's not necessary to understand all of this, much less believe in it. This is merely to help you understand how Martin's mind

                                                         FATHER KRULL (continued)

works on certain matters out of reflex. If you know some of the reasons, you can be closer to him in your marriage, or so I've always assumed.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I figure if there are three Gods, then why not five or six, huh? Or a dozen of them. And then there are all the saints, who could include just about practically anybody, the way it seems in your Church. That sounds like paganism to me.”

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“I know you've acted in high school, and at the college, I hear, and I'm sure you can portray more roles than the Lucy you did for us, can't you? Your voice was so singing.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Of course I can.”

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“Couldn't you use that to help you see the Trinity, thinking of it as different guises God could assume?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I guess I could.”

 

(MARTIN enters the playing space. He nervously begins to pace outside the entrance to FATHER KRULL’s study.)

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“It's easier to have a feeling for it if you've grown up with the religion, as Martin has, and it has to be felt to be believed. Religion is visceral.”

            (he draws back in his chair)

“Your hour is up. Martin's pacing the sidewalk again. He doesn't realize you're really interested in the faith and not just wrangling.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I am?”

 

(There is a silence between them, interwound with the scrape and crush of MARTIN's shoes on the sidewalk, creer chee, creaca chee, creesh shee.)

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“Ask him to come in and have a cup of coffee with us.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“All right.”

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“Unless there's something more?”

                                                         ALPHA

“It doesn't have to do with this lesson. It's the paper I have to sign, where I promise to bring my children up in the Catholic Church. Well, it makes me sick to think. . . that people who aren't even born yet are going to be bound by a promise of mine.”

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“That document's primitive and absurd, and in violation of even your civil rights. There's no justification for it, and someday it'll be thrown out of the Church altogether. When you come to signing it, if you do, cross your fingers.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“What!”

           

            (They both laugh.)

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“But don't tell any of the Neumillers I said that. Now let's have some of that coffee. Bernice! Coffee for three, or four, if you care to join us. It's Alpha and Martin.

            (to ALPHA)

Would you mind going to see if she needs any help?

 

(MARTIN enters the room. He looks uncomfortable. He is afraid ALPHA said something sacrilegious to FATHER KRULL.)

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“Isn't she a fine girl?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Yes, she is.”

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“I don't give personal advice, but since you and I are related, I will to you. When you're married, and I expect you will be soon, live as far as you can from your mother. Give her time to accept Alpha as your wife.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Certainly.”

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL

“And you'll have to be very attentive to your husbandry duties. Alpha is one of the most passionate women I've met.”

            (MARTIN blushes)

“One thing more.”

(he shakes a finger so close to MARTIN's chest it seemed for an instant he can see)

 

                                                         FATHER KRULL (continued)

“This: Don't you ever, ever, even if your life depends on it, try to persuade that girl to become a Catholic, do you hear?”

 

(The lights cross fade quickly to the spot where from FATHER KRULL's playing space back to the spot where ALPHA earlier read from her diary.)

 

                                                         ALPHA

DEC 22. My heart's so full I feel it's been carrying me around smiling instead of me it. Martin and I were married at 5 p.m. I was numb from below the waist and saw the legs of Martin's trousers jiggling with the shakes. We were a fright. We went home royalty to Mama, at last, legal, at least, who had a wedding supper ready. I love being part of a family. I haven't peed for a week.

 

            (TIM, MARIE, JEROME, and CHARLES appear center stage.)

           

                                                         TIM, MARIE, JEROME, & CHARLES

The years passed quickly from that point in the lives of Martin and Alpha Neumiller.

 

                                                         MARIE.

Our father got his first teaching position in a little town called Hyatt.

 

                                                         JEROME

He was soon promoted to principal.

 

                                                         TIM

And it seemed with each passing year, a new Neumiller entered the family.

 

                                                         JEROME

I was the first, Jerome, named after the uncle who drowned and who my mother can still barely mention without tears. 

 

(As he says this, the CHORUS MEMBER who played YOUNG JEROME in “The Street” runs across the stage chasing a ball.)

 

                                                         CHARLES

Shortly thereafter, I came along. My name is Charles.

 

(The CHORUS MEMBER who played CHARLES in “The Street” runs across the stage chasing after his brother.)

 

                                                         TIM

As the youngest brother, I had to be pretty tough.

 

 

 

(The CHORUS MEMBER who played YOUNG TIM in “The Street” runs onto the stage and tries to get his ball back. YOUNG JEROME and YOUNG TIM play keep away from him. After a short time, YOUNG TIM starts swinging widely with his fists at his brothers.)   

 

                                                         TIM (continued)

My parents called me Tim, but I preferred “Timvalin.”

            (Beat)

It was a long phase I went through.

 

                                                         MARIE.

Finally, there's me. Marie Neumiller. The first daughter of Martin and Alpha Neumiller.

(the CHORUS MEMBER playing YOUNG MARIE skips onto with a doll, drops to the floor, and begins playing with it)

I still have that doll somewhere, I think.

 

 

                                                         CHORUS.

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL

 

(CHARLES steps forward. As he does the four CHORUS MEMBERS playing the NEUMILLER CHILDREN take a seat at the MARTIN and ALPHA's dinner table.)

 

                                                         CHARLES

At the age of nine I wasn't afraid of the dark. When I ran down a deserted street at night, I knew the chilling pursuer I felt at my back was put there by my own act of running, and would disappear—like any creature of the imagination when put to a test—the second I slowed to a walk. The gray hands that reached for me as I lay in bed were of my own creation, too, and once I had proved my power to summon them up, for the sake of a safe, enjoyable scare, I could destroy them.

(pause. During this next speech, the dinner table in MARTIN and ALPHA’s home comes into focus. Along with MARTIN and ALPHA, younger versions of CHARLES, JEROME, TIM and MARIE sit around the table.  They are just finishing breakfast)

When the change came, it seemed to come in a moment, but I believe I was being prepared for it. I believe it began one morning when my father read a letter at the breakfast table. The letter was from his father, who had left farming and North Dakota a few years before and was now a prosperous contractor in Illinois; a new school district was being formed in the town he lived in, and they were looking for a high-school principal. For the large and muscular, leathery-faced man my father was—strong-minded about his beliefs, uncompromising in carrying out school policies—he was surprisingly unaggressive when it came to family matters. He seemed to dread the possibility of making the wrong decision. He turned to my mother.

 

 

                                                         ALPHA

Wasn't he satisfied with the job he had,

 

                                                         CHARLES

she wanted to know.

 

                                                         MARTIN

Of course, but there wasn't much chance of getting ahead in North Dakota.

 

                                                         ALPHA

Wasn't he the superintendent of a high school now?

 

                                                         MARTIN

Yes, that was true, speaking as calmly and reasonably as she did.

 

                                                         ALPHA

And didn't he make enough to keep them happy?

 

                                                         MARTIN

More than enough.

 

                                                         ALPHA

Then would it be wise to give up the job he had, and sell the house, and move to Illinois, where it was so hot and so humid, when a job hadn't actually been promised to him yet?

 

                                                         MARTIN

Didn't she like Illinois?

 

                                                         ALPHA

Not especially.

 

                                                         MARTIN

Well, they had only been there in the summer, and he imagined that was why. His father hadn't liked it at first, either, but now he called it God's country.

           

                                                         ALPHA

Then why did he so often come back to North Dakota?

 

                                                         MARTIN

Well, probably because North Dakota was his home state.

 

                                                         ALPHA

And wasn't it theirs?

 

 

 

                                                         MARTIN

Yes, but his father had done so well for himself down there, and maybe he could, too. Wouldn't she like a nicer house?

 

                                                         ALPHA

This was the house she had always wanted—how could there be a better one?

 

                                                         MARTIN

Well, his only reason for considering the idea at all was that his father was getting old and wanted the family reunited. She knew that, didn't she?

 

                                                         ALPHA

Yes, she said, and leaned to him and kissed him.

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (taking both her hands in his)

Wouldn't she like it if they were in a bigger town where he could make more money and she could have more friends?

 

                                                         ALPHA

She bowed her head, as she did only when she was sad or very ashamed.

 

                                                         CHARLES

And so, in the early summer of that year, after being promised a job as a high school principal, my father moved the family from North Dakota to the small town in central Illinois where my grandfather lived.

(Using a trunk as a seat, the NEUMILLER’s pry themselves into a space symbolizing a very cramped car, with MARTIN driving and ALPHA holding MARIE in her arms)  The move seemed doomed from the start. It was so crowded in that car, with us kids and all of that luggage. We boys wouldn't sleep or behave and Marie was wailing most of the way. My mother, who was four months pregnant, looked especially miserable. We drove straight through and arrived in Illinois at 3 A.M. and went to the house my father had rented over the telephone.

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (Getting out of the car, trying to alleviate the stress of the situation)

“I'll open it up and get the lights on. Then we'll take some of this in and make it a little comfortable. It doesn't look as bad inside.

(He crosses to the entrance of the house and searches for a key above the ledge. Suddenly, the lights come on inside and the door opens)

 

                                                         CHORUS (House owner)

“This is some hour to show up.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“What do you mean? Here you are and we agre--”

                                                         HOUSE OWNER

“The wife's had a change of heart.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“But its July twenty-fifth! You had two weeks to be out! My wife, my kids—”

 

            (He gestures at the car.)

 

                                                         HOUSE OWNER

“The wife's decided were staying here in town, and that's that.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

Why didn't you at least let me know, for God's sake?”

 

                                                         HOUSE OWNER

“I lost that card of yours.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Why didn't you tell my father?”

 

                                                         HOUSE OWNER

“Who's he?”

 

 

                                                         MARTIN

“But surely you can't--I mean, my Lord! I've paid the first months rent and the deposit!”

 

                                                         HOUSE OWNER

“Take it easy.”

(the man leaves for a moment. When he returns, he hands MARTIN a sheaf of bills)

It's all there.

 

            (He then closes and locks the door.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Just what the hell do you think you're doing?”

 

                                                         HOUSE OWNER

            (from inside)

Watch it, this is our house.

 

                                                         MARTIN

“I mean—”

 

 

(He considers breaking down the door. Then he realizes that he never signed a lease. Defeated, he slowly turns and walks toward the car. He meets his worst fears in ALPHA's tired and hopeless face. Their terrible stare is finally broken when CHARLES begins speaking. The family scatters, dissembling the car in the process.)

 

(During CHARLES’ next speech, the upstage area, which previously symbolized MARTIN and ALPHA’s home in North Dakota, become their home in Illinois.  The location of the table changes.  A crate sits downstage of the table.  MARTIN can be seen standing at the table, which is now covered with a drop clot, miming work on a miter saw.  YOUNG CHARLES sits on the stairs leading to the “upstairs” platform.)

 

                                                         CHARLES

After living as a family in my grandparents one room unfinished basement for nearly a month, my father finally bought and started remodeling a duplex that had originally been a gasoline station. Setting aside his usual calm and reserve, he went at the place with such a passion that I was inspired; I learned to use a hammer like a man and started to have at the old house, too. One morning when my father was working in the kitchen, and I was pulling carpet nails out of the stairs, a man named Alan Spear showed up and stared around with what seemed embarrassment at the torn-up room.

 

                                                         MARTIN

Martin apologized for it.

 

                                                         CHORUS (Alan Spear)

            (with hesitation and embarrassment)

Spear waved his words away and asked about the remodeling, to be polite and to have questions to ask, it seemed, and then said that he was new at the job of heading up a school board; there were the other members to contend with, and he hadn't realized that the superintendent had so much say in hiring teachers, especially the principal, who was the one he had to work the closest with over the year, or more, if he was staying on, of course.

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (laying his hammer on the table)

“What you're trying to say, Alan? Has my job been given to someone else.

 

                                                         ALAN SPEAR

“I'm afraid so. Yes it has, Martin.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“All right, I'll teach English or Math or P.E. I'll even take a job in the junior high school.”

 

 

 

 

                                                         ALAN SPEAR

“We wouldn't want somebody of your caliber and experience to take just any job, Martin. And it's so late on in the year now, I don't know; I'm afraid most of the really good openings might be filled up. I want you to know that I take full responsibility for this.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (MARTIN stares into his eyes. SPEAR looks away)

“Are they, Alan?”

 

                                                         ALAN SPEAR

“What?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Are all the openings in the district filled?”

 

                                                         ALAN SPEAR

“I'm afraid they are, Martin.”

 

                                                         CHARLES

(SPEAR exits.  Dejected, MARTIN continues his work at the table.  CHARLES crosses into the playing space)

Every other school in the county had filled its openings, too. My father started working for my Uncle Jay on a cement crew. 

            (bitterly mumbling to himself as he works)

He’d been passed over for the job because of his religion, he believed, but wouldn’t think of mentioning it to anyone, especially my mother.  Everybody in town was Methodist.  The superintendent was, and the superintendent and Spear and most of the members of the school board belonged to the Masonic Lodge.

 

                                                         MARTIN

Those rings they wore.

 

                                                         CHARLES

            (pause)

Oh yes, the house. The bedroom that my brothers and I were given—I'm Charles, by the way—had no window. It was a small upstairs room with a ceiling that took its sharp slant from the pitch of the roof. There was no daylight and no light fixture in the room, no smell but the smell of dust and old lumber, no color, no company; the seasons outside were merely changes in temperature.

            (below him, ALPHA enters the kitchen area)

When our father first took us through the room, he said he'd install a dormer there, and fill the room with daylight, but for the time being, all he did was move in a double bed for Tim and Jerome --I was at the age where I couldn't stand to be touched, much less sleep with anybody--, and set a narrow cot up against one wall for me.

            (pause)

                                                         CHARLES (continued)

My mother did not like the house we were living in, and was troubled that my father had to give up teaching,

 

                                                         ALPHA 

the profession he loved, and become a common laborer.

 

                                                         CHARLES

She was also in her last months of pregnancy.

 

                                                         MARTIN

She became silent and secretive, and kept her eyes lowered.

 

                                                         CHARLES

My father watched her from the time he came home from work until he went to bed.

 

                                                         MARTIN

How was she feeling today?

                                                         ALPHA

Fine.

 

                                                         MARTIN

Was there anything he could do?

 

                                                         ALPHA

No.

 

                                                         MARTIN

Would she like to go out-to a movie or somewhere?

 

                                                         ALPHA

No.

 

                                                         CHARLES

When her answers turned from single words to shrugs, he became silent, too.

            (pause.  MARTIN exits the kitchen area.  CHARLES comes down the steps)

One afternoon I stood near the top of a stepladder and nailed a lath to the partition in the kitchen.

            (YOUNG CHARLES stands on the crate and mimes a hammering motion)

My mother sat at the table, paying little attention to the noise I made, and embroidered on a dish towel. Once when I missed the nail completely, I cursed.

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

Crap.

 

 

                                                         CHARLES

 Still she didn't look up. When I had first started using foul language,

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

            (looking at his mother, perplexed)

she had washed my mouth out with soap. I had never heard my father swear, and now she was letting me get away with it.

           

                                                         CHARLES

I felt manly and arrogant, and made even more noise.

            (pause)

But then I realized how much she must have changed, to ignore what she had once disapproved of, and I studied her from the top of the stepladder.

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“Mom? Are you okay?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

            (without looking up)

“Yes,”

            (she quickly continues sewing, as if I'd caught her at something)

“Don't worry about me. Do your job.”

 

                                                         CHARLES

Her manner upset me. An emotion spread from her and pressed on me like a hand. I stopped working, my eyes on the grooves of one of the steps, and tried to figure out what she was feeling.

 

(YOUNG CHARLES turns from his position on the ladder to look at his mother. She raises her face. They stare at each other for several seconds. Embarrassed, he starts hammering again.)

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Don't.”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“Don't what?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Don't work anymore.”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“The hammering bothers you?”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“No. I don't want you to work.”

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“Why not?”

                                                         ALPHA

            (she won't look at him)

“Go and play.”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“Who with? Dad told me to do this wall.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I don't want you to work with your hands! You're too young to work.”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“No, I'm not!”

 

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Don't argue. Go outside.”

           

                                                         CHARLES

With her head lowered, her voice didn't seem a part of her. I came down the ladder angrily, determined to make her look at me, and saw that the length and breadth of her cheeks were wet with tears. I went out the back door and sat on the steps.

 

(YOUNG CHARLES crosses downstage and sits on the edge of a platform.  CHARLES shadows his movements.)

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

It wasn't right of her to go against my father's word, and she never had.

 

                                                         CHARLES

She was even going against her own! She wouldn't talk to you, and when she did she wouldn't look at you, and then she cried.

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

If something was wrong and she didn't want me to know what it was, I wished she would simply leave me alone.

 

                                                         CHARLES

Then I remembered the long, unguarded look she had held me with.

 

(The scene changes to night. YOUNG CHARLES crosses up the stairs to his bedroom.  He lies down on a bench covered by a sheet used to signify his bed.  The sound of a telephone can be heard cutting through the dim light.)

 

 

                                                         CHORUS

SNOWFALL ALONG THE ILLINOIS

 

                                                         MARTIN           

Martin hadn't ever had a telephone in the house, and disliked the instrument and its way of invading his private life. One night it rang at 1 A.M. He got on his glasses and grabbed up the receiver before the thing rang itself out; it was the doctor on the other end.

 

                                                         CHORUS (Doctor)

He'd been looking through his family doctor book, he said, and thought perhaps Alpha might have an acute form of hepatitis and should maybe see an internist in Peoria or somewhere.

 

                                                         MARTIN

He went into a lengthy explanation of hepatitis,

 

                                                         DOCTOR

of the relationship between the patient and his disease, explaining that this information came from the book lying open in front of him,

 

                                                         MARTIN

and soon his speech became rambling and convoluted and took sudden shifts that had no relation to logic. “Well, I don't know why you're telling me all this at such an ungodly hour.”

 

            (He hangs up.)

 

                                                         CHORUS

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL

 

                                                         CHARLES

Back in bed, hearing the whole house creak and sigh in its heavy sleep, I also learned about the one element that stays awake: the air. Long after the house was asleep, and long after I should have been, the dark air was alive with excitement. Because there was never any light in the room, from the sun or the moon, the air was my gauge of time and events. A disturbance outside—a passing train, a car, the lashing of a tree—caused it to ripple. When the sun rose, the air became angry, agitated, and some nights, for a reason I could never understand, it thickened and pressed against me.

 

                                                         CHORUS

SNOWFALL ALONG THE ILLINOIS

 

                                                         MARTIN

That morning he called an internist in Pekin to see about an appointment; the internist

 

 

                                                         CHORUS (Internist)

asked who Alpha was presently seeing

 

                                                         MARTIN

and Martin told him.

 

                                                         INTERNIST

“Oh, goodness.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Why? What's that about?”

 

                                                         INTERNIST

“I'm afraid the poor fellow's about to lose his license. There have been a lot of complaints about him and we're about to get a full-scale investigation under way on him. We're pretty sure he's been using opium.”

 

            CHORUS.                                                                   CHORUS. 

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL               SNOWFALL ALONG THE ILLINOIS

 

            CHARLES                                                                   MARTIN        

One January night I woke, for no apparent        An appointment with the internist was reason, and felt the air above my cot had       scheduled for two days later, and the next thickened. It was denser than it was when      night Martin woke to an unnatural coldness the sun rose, and some sound was trying to   that seemed to emanate from beside the bed.

make its way through the denseness                                                                                         

 

            CHARLES (continued)                                                 CHORUS (All)           

I listened so intently my eyes joined in the                      (In a horrible whisper)

effort, searching the volume of dark air,             Raw-throated sounds powerful      

and then I heard                                                            yet constrained, were coming from the direction of the coldness,

 

                                                         CHORUS

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

—coming from the ground floor? from somewhere above the roof?—

 

                                                         CHORUS.

SNOWFALL ALONG THE ILLINOIS

 

                                                         MARTIN

as if Alpha were crying and attempting to stifle it, but he'd never heard her cry in such a voice. She wouldn't answer, and then. . . (Her fist hits his face; it is tensed and beating at

 

                                                         MARTIN (continued)

him with a fury he cannot fathom. He throws back the covers and turns on the lamp; ALPHA is unconscious, having convulsions, and bleeding into the bed)

 

                                                         CHORUS

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL

 

 

                                                         CHARLES

a sound like the breathy creak of pigeon's wings, and then falling away again.

 

            CHORUS                                                                    CHORUS

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL   SNOWFALL ALONG THE ILLINOIS

           

            CHARLES                                                                   MARTIN

Light switches clicked downstairs, there            He ran and called the Pettibone doctor,

were footsteps, the telephone jingled as                        

it was cranked, and I felt the heavy throb                                   DOCTOR

of my father's bass voice.                                  who came on at once and was levelheaded       

After a number of throbs, punctuated by            and concerned and told him to make sure her   

silences that seemed humming question              tongue was forward in her mouth, to cover

marks in the dark air, the receiver slapped         her and keep her warm, if it would ease his

into its holder, my father's footsteps        mind, but mostly to keep back and not hurt

crossed the kitchen, and another switch             her by trying to help her; he'd be right over.

clicked. A white rectangle, its top end bent       

up against the foot of the wall, gripped the

floor; he had turned on the light in the hall-

way downstairs. I went to the banister,

looked down the stairwell, and saw his

shadow cross the bottom steps.

 

                                                           CHORUS.

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL

           

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

            (from the top of the stairs)

“Dad?”

           

(After a silence, a pause in the footsteps, MARTIN moves to the bottom of the stairs.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

“What are you doing up at this hour?”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“Nothing.”

                                                         MARTIN

“You'd better go back to bed.”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“Who were you talking to on the phone?”

 

 

                                                         MARTIN

“The doctor. Do you realize it's three o'clock?”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“Is somebody sick?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (he stares at him for a few seconds)

“Go to bed. Please.”

 

            (YOUNG CHARLES crosses to the bed)

 

                                                         CHARLES

I did, but I couldn't sleep. The birdlike sounds rose up again,

 

                                                         CHORUS.

SNOWFALL ALONG THE ILLINOIS

 

                                                         MARTIN

Martin went back to the bedroom and the convulsions had stopped; she was breathing through her mouth as if asleep. Her tongue was as it should be.

(he pulls the damp and stained sheets off the bed and covers her well, piles the sheets in the bathroom, and then sits on the edge of their bed. He takes her hand)

Must I go through this?                     

(her eyelids tremble and open on him with a tentative stir; she takes a long time to focus)

 

                                                         ALPHA

“You're so pale.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“You look better.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Why do I feel so light? Have I lost the baby?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“No, no. Don't worry now. The doctor's on his way.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“The doctor?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“You've been ill.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“How long?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Just a while.”

 

                                                         ALPHA

“I feel I've been under a spell a hundred years. Is this the hospital?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“No, we're at home now.”

 

 

                                                         ALPHA

“Where's the big window that looks out on the front porch?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Here in Illinois.”

 

                                                         ALPHA 

“Oh. I'm really confused then, or else I've been dreaming. So it's true that I'll lose the baby.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“No, no, no. The baby's just fine.”

                                                        

                                                         ALPHA

“No, I'll lose it. It'll be as much sorrow to you as losing me, and you'll think of us together.”

 

                                                         MARTIN           

“What do you mean?”

           

                                                         ALPHA

“It's a girl.”

 

                                                         MARTIN           

“Alpha, I want you to know—”

 

(Her fingernails cut in and her face is transfigured as her spine arches and beats with the force of another convulsion. He grabs her and holds her while the raw-throated sounds come and go as if she is falling down past him from a building and trying to cry out some final message or name. She stops. Then with a gasping intake of breath go up again and again come flying by with the important syllables missing, until he is afraid he'd do her harm if this didn't stop. Then she lies still on the bed beneath him. There is bloody foam on her lips. Her tongue was cut. MARTIN runs for the telephone.)

           

                                                         CHORUS

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL

 

                                                         CHARLES

My Father's footsteps crossed the house, in long strides this time, and the jingling of the telephone was harsh. I got out of bed and was nearly to the bottom of the stairs when I heard my father's voice: “. . .

 

(During these lines, YOUNG CHARLES exits his room and moves toward the area representing the kitchen.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

realize it's practically a half hour since I called? You can't be more than a block away, and . . . What? How in the world can a man read at a time like this? . . . Well, I don't give a damn about your-your damn family doctor's book! . . .”

 

                                                         CHARLES

The profanity, so wrong on my father's tongue, scared me. And his voice was usually under control; I had never heard it like this. 

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Are you listening? You get over here this minute or I'll come and get you!”

(he hooks the receiver into its metal cradle, leans a shoulder against the wall, and whispers)

“Oh, God! What next?”

 

            (He gathers himself and turns to notice YOUNG CHARLES on the stairs.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

“I thought I told you to go to bed.”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“Are you sick?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“What are you doing down here?”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (with a moan of someone deathly ill)

“Go.”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“What's wrong?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Do as you're told.”

 

                                                         CHARLES

I don't have to go anymore.

                                                         MARTIN

“Then go to bed.”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“I want to see Mom.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Not now. Not tonight.”

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“Why not?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“She's too sick.”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“Let me see her!”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Maybe tomorrow. Go now.”

 

                                                         YOUNG CHARLES

“She's sick?”

 

                                                         CHARLES

He nodded his head with such finality I wasn't able to ask anything else, or disobey—run past him to their bedroom—but as I climbed the stairs I was sure I had done something wrong.

 

            (YOUNG CHARLES slowly crosses back to his bedroom)

                                                        

 

                                    CHORUS.                                             CHORUS.

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL          SNOWFALL ALONG THE ILLINOIS

 

(MARTIN crosses back to the kitchen and seems very unsure of what to do. Suddenly, he picks up the phone.)

 

            CHARLES                                                                   MARTIN

Because I didn't know what it was, and at         My name is Martin Neumiller.

the same time realized it was my mother            I'm calling from Pettibone. Please send an

who was ill, I started to tremble, and     ambulance to my home as soon as possible.

when I settled into bed and the rectangle                       (After giving inaudible directions, he

on the wall vanished, darkness pressed                          hangs up the phone and immediately

on me as it never had before. It took my                        dials another number)   

entire imagination, and closed eyes, to          Mom. Yes. There's been an emergency.  I  

keep it away, and just as I heard strange           need you come and watch the kids.  Now.

voices-several of them, it seemed-I gave           I'll tell you later. Please come soon. 

into the darkness.                                                          (He hangs up the phone and sits motionless at the kitchen table).

           

                                                         CHORUS

BEYOND THE BEDROOM WALL

(The following dream sequence is stylistically choreographed using members of the CHORUS to play ALPHA and YOUNG CHARLES.  The scene should take on a nightmare quality.)

 

                                                         CHARLES

I dreamed I was walking with my mother through a department store. The walls and ceiling were white, and the floor of white marble, with low display cases set at great distances from one another. My mother held my hand in a firm grip. She wanted to go upstairs, and I wanted to stay where we were, on the ground floor, and look in the display cases. I pulled away from her and ran to one.

 

                                                         CHORUS (Playing Alpha)

Don't. Don't look!

 

            CHARLES                                           CHORUS

she called after me, and her voice          Do-o-o--o-o-o-on't  lo-o-o-o-o-o-ok

echoed through the empty store.            Do-o-o--o-o-o-on't   lo-o-o-o-o-o-ok

            (Pause)

 

                                                         CHARLES (continued)

The case was filled with blue china figurines. There was a blue swan, similar to the one in our kitchen, with a hole in its back, so that it could be used as a flowerpot, blue angels, and small blue busts of children. My mother put her hand on my shoulder and said,

 

                                                         ALPHA

Come away.

 

                                                         CHARLES

I turned to say no and couldn't breathe. She stood far above me, taller than she had ever been, her face made of blue china and her eyes alive and staring at me as they had in the kitchen. She pulled her coat close around her throat, turned and walked away, and when I tried to run after her, my feet wouldn't move.

 

            BLACK-OUT

 

(During the following speech, MARIE, JEROME, and TIM enter the NEUMILLER home dressed in white lab coats.  MRS. NEUMILLER enters shortly after them.  Silhouetted against the lit cyc, MARTIN escorts the visitors to ALPHA’s bedroom.  Slowly and carefully they take her from bedroom to the area on the stage what will eventually become the hospital.  A trunk covered in bedding is slid forward to be used as ALPHA’s hospital bed.  After watching his wife leave the space, MARTIN crosses up to YOUNG CHARLES’ room and stands in the doorway, watching him sleep.)

 

                                                         CHARLES

I woke to darkness, twisted in the blankets, my heart beating hard against the cot. I had to see my mother. I started to get out of bed and struck the wall. I was stupefied; the wall was on the other side of the cot. I tried again. I knew there was no wall there, and not all

the logic in the world, or the wall itself, could convince me otherwise. Nothing as simple as getting reversed in bed occurred to me. I tried again and again, and finally fell back onto the cot, and my left arm extended into open space. If there was a wall where I was convinced there was none, I couldn't imagine what waited for me in that emptiness where the wall should be. I pulled my arm back and held it over my chest, afraid to move, afraid of the dark.  In the morning, without having to be told, I knew my mother was gone. My father, who had had no sleep, said

 

                                                         MARTIN

she had been taken by ambulance to the hospital.

 

                                                         CHARLES

Without being able to confide in him, or in anyone—once the sun has risen, the darkness seems partly our imagination—,

 

                                                            CHORUS (All)

            (repeated at different speeds at intervals) 

Once the sun has risen, the darkness seems partly our imagination. 

(As they repeat this line, the CHORUS forms a line behind ALPHA’s bed in the hospital.  TIM and MARIE stand stage-right of the bed.  JEROME and CHARLES, who is now putting on his lab jacket, stand to the left.  When the CHORUS is in position, they stop repeating the line.)

                                                         CHARLES

I knew I would never see my mother again, and started preparing myself for her death.

 

                                                         CHORUS (All)

SNOWFALL ALONG THE ILLINOIS

 

(Sterile, white lights come-up on the hospital room.  MARTIN enters the space, hurriedly.)

 

                                                         DOCTOR (Jerome)

            (stopping MARTIN)

She was operated on in the morning and a full-term, nine-and-a-half-pound girl was removed from her womb, dead. 

 

(MARIE hands a piece of fabric she as taken from ALPHA’s bedside to TIM.  He crosses in front of JEROME and MARTIN with fabric, cradling it as if it were a baby wrapped in cloth.)

 

 

                                                         MARTIN & ALPHA

'You'll think of us together”

 

                                                         DOCTOR

“I'm afraid I also have to tell you that your wife has uremia.”

 

            MARTIN                                                                     CHORUS

“Uremia?”                                                        (in a whisper) Ur-r-r-r-e-e-e-e-em-m-m-mia   

 

            DOCTOR # 2                                                              CHORUS.

“Yes, sir.”                                                         Ur-r-r-r-r-e-e-e-e-em-m-m-mia

 

            MARTIN                                                                     CHORUS

“Is that serious?”                                               Ur-r-r-r-r-e-e-e-e-em-m-m-mia

 

                                                         DOCTOR

“Very. I'm afraid the child has overtaxed her system.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“What do you mean?”

 

                                                         DOCTOR

“Her condition is critical.”

 

                                                         MARIE

For the next five days,

 

                                                         MARTIN

Martin hardly slept.  Since he'd known her, he'd begged her to see a doctor, any doctor,

 

                                                         MARIE

about the way she could go for days without going to the bathroom,

 

                                                         CHORUS

usually during a deep despondency,

                                                         MARIE.

but she never would

 

            MARTIN                                                                     CHORUS

“Uremia?                                                          Ur-r-r-r-r-e-e-e-e-em-m-m-mia

 

                                                         MARTIN

The word lay like a mold in his mind and mingled with the name Alpha had picked for the baby: Dacey.

 

            (Softly and at different speeds and intervals, the CHORUS repeats “Dacey.”)

 

                                                         MARTIN

It seemed a pitiable name to him.  Was he in mourning?

 

                                                         MARIE

The next day Alpha was transferred to a hospital in Peoria which had an intensive-care unit and more specialists on call.

 

                                                         MARTIN

All along,

 

                                                         DOCTOR (Jerome)

the doctors had assumed that she'd soon be improving, that there were more positive signs of recovery on the way,

 

                                                         MARTIN

but Martin no longer trusted them. There was a detachment in her he'd never felt before, and

 

                                                         ALPHA

she'd ask him not to look at her, and to leave the hospital

 

                                                         MARTIN

before he was ready to go.

(MARTIN steps away from ALPHA.  As he does the CHORUS surrounds her and gently takes her out of the hospital space.  A phone rings in the distance)   

 

                                                         MARTIN (continued)

He was not surprised when he walked into the house and heard the phone start its ringing again.

 

                                                         DOCTOR

“Mr. Neumiller, this is Dr. Morrow, the physician who spoke to you this evening?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Yes?”

 

                                                         DOCTOR # 2

“I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you. We're not sure of the reasons yet, but your wife's gone into a coma. Can you come right in?”

 

                                                         MARTIN

(frantically reentering the hospital space. ALPHA is gone. MARIE, TIM, CHARLES, and JEROME stand in the room)

And then again, after the phone call at work four days later, after driving one hundred miles an hour the sixty miles to Peoria.

 

                                                         DOCTOR

“Mr. Neumiller—We've used all of our medical knowledge, the new drugs, and the most sophisticated equipment that's available to us, and it's just not enough. Your wife died about an hour ago. We tried to get in touch with you earlier, but couldn't. I'm terribly sorry, sir.”

 

                                                         MARTIN

“Oh God,”

 

                                                         CHORUS.

he said, meaning

 

                                                         MARTIN

she was only thirty-four.

 

            BLACK-OUT

 

(A Catholic funeral hymn plays softly on the piano. As it fades, the lights come up to reveal a much aged version of ED JONES.  He is sitting in a rocking chair. It is afternoon. Next to him on a simple wooden side table is a transistor radio. The barely audible sound of a baseball game can be heard. His face is gray and unshaven, his lips pressed in a white-line, and his eyes flash back and forth, tracing a mental record of this baseball game for the sake of future arguments with imaginary friends. He is sitting on his porch.  Inside the house, MRS. JONES sets the table for dinner. For the following selection, the immediate family, JEROME, MARIE, TIM, and CHARLES share the bulk narration.)

                                                         MRS. JONES

“Ed! Come and eat!”

            (no response)

“Ed! Do you hear?”

 

                                                         JEROME, MARIE, TIM & CHARLES

He doesn't.

 

 

                                                         JEROME

And it's not so much a question of his hearing, which has failed, as it is him. He doesn't care to hear. He can't bear for her to keep intruding on him and his baseball, as if she's jealous of even that. It's vicarious now, the last of his final pleasures, and elevates him out of the present, where he's become old, nearly eighty, been proclaimed am cripple by the medical profession, and had to hand the reins of a finally promising farm, which has the potential to vindicate those decades of grubbing in bad soil, over to his wife and one of his sons who lived.

 

                                                         ED JONES

goddamnit.

           

                                                         MARIE.

What more does she want? Her wish about the grandkid, Charles, is fulfilled; the boy's spending his summer here.

(YOUNG CHARLES runs across the front of the stage looking for some mysterious animal)

Everywhere this cane carries him, he sees the kid running all over hell and damnation, chasing the heat-afflicted cattle, kicking at chickens, making this clinker of an old man feel worse. Oh, it isn't the kid's tearing around that really bothers him, though it bothers him enough, being a gimp, but that the boy reminds him so of his dear dead daughter it's enough to make him, the terror of her life, the noisy drunkard who never once told her he loved her—it's enough to make him cry out at the sky.

 

                                                         TIM

Hardly more than a girl and already gone from them to the grave, gone at the age he was when he met the girl's mother.

 

                                                         ED JONES

Dear God!

 

                                                         TIM

First Jerome and now Alpha. Outlived by him, as though the curse he claimed was on his life, if there was one, had passed through him to them and they suffered it in his stead.

 

                                                         ED JONES

What for?

                                                         CHARLES

His kids were his hope. They were a way home. And now two were gone. Jerome, Alpha, gone, and this husk of a man who was once Ed Jones was paying out endless dues to the demands of the past.

 

                                                            MARIE.

He wasn't even well enough to attend the funeral, or so the doctor and wife told him, to give her a final grace, a father's goodbye, his final word:

           

                                                         ED JONES

forgive.

 

(Almost before ED JONES finishes his line, the CHORUS begins repeating it in variations of a whisper at different speeds. From the darkness, MARTIN enters the playing space and sits on the edge of the porch. In this scene, MARTIN is a product of ED JONES' imagination. A foil. A stab at redemption.)

 

                                                         ED JONES

Martin, my penance, as you'd call it, and my duty is to help you if I can. Those days when she was a baby, wasn't even walking yet, you missed, boy. We'd sit on the floor and roll empty thread spools back and forth, spools of Ma's I'd painted every sort of color in a

mad and drunken scramble for her Christmas that year, and I could hold up the purple spool and say “Purrrple” and make her laugh so hard she turned purple and red. She wasn't a year old yet and nobody else could make her laugh that way, and it was a word that did it. I miss those days so much my insides are rising out my back teeth, and the

chunks of fillings there sing and taste of sin and silver. Oh, the times we had when she was young and I wasn't afraid of her because of the hallucinatory effects of booze. She was so intelligent and changeable she felt alien, a threat to my stiff mind, an angel with the energy of a sun, and it radiated from her eyes if you could look there.

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

            (still from the kitchen)

“Ed!”

 

                                                         ED JONES

I felt unworthy of her and poured down even more of the stuff. I had to stay clear of her and her eyes for my sanity's sake. It made her wary and as afraid of everyday life as I was. I'd ask her a question. She'd look at her mother. Then she'd turn back to me. Or does a girl always hesitate that way for her father? Does your daughter Marie do it, boy? I was so old compared to other fathers I must have looked to her a walking ghost. And yet I'm alive and she's not, and I sit here stranded in strife. Oh, sweet Jesus, please forgive me my sins. I'm afraid of burning in hell now. A dirty cringing frigging chicken coward still. Why don't any of the kids send a message about the other side?

            (pause)

The worst of it is I want a drink this minute.

            (MARTIN stands and slowly exists)

                                                         ED JONES (continued)

Oh, what energy was expended on that energetic child! Either she was the real reason for reality, or else there's no proof. I'd give half my years if she could have another year on earth.  Now there's that creaking and rush in my ears that must be the sound of the end. Oh, ho, ho, Lord, these old bones will shed themselves and soon be pools for bugs to drink at. Give Martin and his kids a long life. Forgive, Alpha, for-

(before he can finish the word “forgive,” MRS. JONES steps onto the porch. The sound of the ballgame returns)

 

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

            (interrupting)

“What's the matter? Are they losing again?”

            (no response)

“Ed?”

(she walks up and jerks a week-old copy of The Fargo Forum from between his back and the back of the chair, where he's draped it to absorb his sweat. He doesn't respond. She shakes him by the shoulder)

“Ed, for God's sake, come and eat!”

            (no response)

“Do I have to lift you out of that chair?”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“You do—You do, and I'll crack you with this goddamn cane.”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“You're a mean old fool. And you get meaner every day.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“And it'll get worse before it gets better, you can bet your ass on that, milady.”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“Stop!”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“When you stop your yipping.”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“As soon as you come and eat.”

 

 

                                                         ED JONES

“After this inning.”

 

 

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“This inning nothing! After this inning it'll be the next inning, and after that the next game, and then it'll be night. Lord, you infuriate me! Right now! The food's getting cold.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Pee on the food.”

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

“Ed!”

            (the tremolo in her voice climbs close to tears)

“I'll turn it up so you can listen in there.”

 

                                                         ED JONES

“Up? Up? It's been going full blast all day! I have a headache from it! Damn!”

           

(Their eyes meet. MRS. JONES seems to understand what had been going on in his mind. Both in pain, they look deeply into each others eyes, neither knowing how to help the other.)

 

                                                         MRS. JONES

            (gently)

“Please. Chuckie's at the table, waiting.”

 

 

                                                         ED JONES

            (after a pause, he delivers his final line as if it were an expletive)

''Horse's”

 

(He pulls himself to his feet with the aid of the cane.  Once standing, MRS. JONES helps support him; the two limp into the house as the lights fade.)

 

(The stage appears as it did at the start of the play.  Members of the cast once again exchange hugs, but the exchanges reveal a higher level of intimacy and emotional connection than seen earlier.  From off-stage, a tired, older man enters.  It is MARTIN NEUMILLER.  The cast ceremonially makes a path for him.  MARIE hands him the family album used at the beginning of the play.  He opens it and scans some of its pages.)

 

                                                         MARTIN

            (both to the audience and to his onstage family) 

“My life is a lot like this book. There is one chapter, there is one story after another. Some parts of it were sad, others were beautiful, I didn't regret any of it. I spent some good years working on it, as I felt and like to think now.

            (pause)

           

 

                                                         MARTIN (continued)

Things have changed so much.  Not that changes everywhere are for the worse, of course. Your mother would be overjoyed that she could sing in the church now. How she wanted to test her voice with the Mass! She loved to sing.

            (pause)

I've got my retirement to look forward to and the grandchildren you kids will have. I want to watch them grow up. That's enough. The rest of it, all that's happened in the past, all those early years up until now, all of that's done. I have no desire to look back on it again. Maybe when I'm older.  Maybe not.  The only solution is to hope a chapter will be added someday that will change all of this. Or maybe it's better to leave it as it stands and let it go from me, as it feels it wants to. And so, I close the book.”

           

(He closes the album.  The lights fade on everyone except CHARLES, MARIE, JEROME and TIM, who step forward almost to the lip of the stage.)

 

                                                         CHARLES

            (stepping forward)

It occurs to him that's he's constructing his own reality, artificial or not, and making room for himself to operate within it.

 

                                                         CHARLES, MARIE, JEROME, TIM

His generation acting what theirs actually felt?

 

                                                         JEROME

Whereas the past lies outside him in a state as natural as the plain.

 

            (The stage begins to darken, except for a special on CHARLES downstage left.)

 

                                                         MARIE.

He realizes that the love he seeks began as early as memory, or more.

 

                                                         CHARLES

And then he sees his mother signaling him from the other side of the book.

            (a special downstage right light reveals ALPHA. Young and beautiful, she is

wearing her wedding dress. She stands with her arms extended outward. From the other side of the stage, CHARLES reaches toward the audience, as if to touch her)   

And they reach for one another across the abyss.

 

(The lights slowly fade.  When they come up, ALPHA is gone.  TIM stands centerstage.)

 

                                                         TIM

There, the street is retraced, or at least as completely as it can be for now. Now, I'm asleep, and for right now, dear one, loved ones and friends, that's enough.

 

BLACK-OUT