by Edward Albee
MOMMY
(Motioning to DADDY) Well, here we are; this is the beach.
DADDY (Whining)
I’m cold.
MOMMY
(Dismissing him with a little laugh) Don’t be silly; it’s as warm as toast. Look at that nice young man over there: he doesn’t think it’s cold. (Waves to the YOUNG MAN) Hello.
YOUNG MAN
(With an endearing smile) Hi!
MOMMY (Looking about)
This will do perfectly … don’t you think so, Daddy? There’s sand there … and the water beyond. What do you think, Daddy?
DADDY (Vaguely)
Whatever you say, Mommy.
MOMMY
(With the same little laugh) Well, of course … whatever I say. Then, it’s settled, is it?
DADDY (Shrugs)
She’s your mother, not mine.
MOMMY
I know she’s my mother. What do you take me for? (A pause) All right, now; let’s get on with it. (She shouts into the wings, stage-left) You! Out there! You can come in now.
(The MUSICIAN enters, seats himself in the chair, stage-left, places music on the music stand, is ready to play. MOMMY nods approvingly)
MOMMY
Very nice; very nice. Are you ready, Daddy? Let’s go get Grandma.
DADDY
Whatever you say, Mommy.
MOMMY
(Leading the way out, stage-left) Of course, whatever I say. (To the MUSICIAN) You can begin now.
(The MUSICIAN begins playing; MOMMY and DADDY exit; the MUSICIAN, all the while playing, nods to the YOUNG MAN)
YOUNG MAN
(With the same endearing smile) Hi!
(After a moment, MOMMY and DADDY re-enter, carrying GRANDMA. She is borne in by their hands under her armpits; she is quite rigid; her legs are drawn up; her feet do not touch the ground; the expression on her ancient face is that of puzzlement and fear)
DADDY
Where do we put her?
MOMMY
(The same little laugh) Wherever I say, of course. Let me see … well … all right, over there … in the sandbox. (Pause) Well, what are you waiting for, Daddy? … The sandbox!
(Together they carry GRANDMA over to the sandbox and more or less dump her in)
GRANDMA
(Righting herself to a sitting position; her voice a cross between a baby’s laugh and cry) Ahhhhhh! Graaaaa!
DADDY (Dusting himself)
What do we do now?
MOMMY
(To the MUSICIAN) You can stop now.
(The MUSICIAN stops)
(Back to DADDY) What do you mean, what do we do now? We go over there and sit down, of course. (To the YOUNG MAN) Hello there.
YOUNG MAN
(Again smiling) Hi!
(MOMMY and DADDY move to the chairs, stage-right, and sit down. A pause)
GRANDMA
(Same as before) Ahhhhhh! Ah-haaaaaa! Graaaaaa!
DADDY
Do you think … do you think she’s … comfortable?
MOMMY (Impatiently)
How would I know?
DADDY
(Pause) What do we do now?
MOMMY
(As if remembering) We … wait. We … sit here … and we wait … that’s what we do.
DADDY
(After a pause) Shall we talk to each other?
MOMMY
(With that little laugh; picking something off her dress) Well, you can talk, if you want to … if you can think of anything to say … if you can think of anything new.
DADDY (Thinks)
No … I suppose not.
MOMMY
(With a triumphant laugh) Of course not!
GRANDMA
(Banging the toy shovel against the pail) Haaaaaa! Ahhaaaaaa!
MOMMY
(Out over the audience) Be quiet, Grandma … just be quiet, and wait.
(GRANDMA throws a shovelful of sand at MOMMY)
MOMMY
(Still out over the audience) She’s throwing sand at me! You stop that, Grandma; you stop throwing sand at Mommy! (To DADDY) She’s throwing sand at me.
(DADDY looks around at GRANDMA, who screams at him)
GRANDMA
GRAAAAA!
MOMMY
Don’t look at her. Just … sit here … be very still … and wait. (To the MUSICIAN) You … uh … you go ahead and do whatever it is you do.
(The MUSICIAN plays)
(MOMMY and DADDY are fixed, staring out beyond the audience. GRANDMA looks at them, looks at the MUSICIAN, looks at the sandbox, throws down the shovel)
GRANDMA
Ah-haaaaaa! Graaaaaa! (Looks for reaction; gets none. Now … directly to the audience) Honestly! What a way to treat an old woman! Drag her out of the house… stick her in a car … bring her out here from the city … dump her in a pile of sand … and leave her here to set. I’m eighty-six years old! I was married when I was seventeen. To a farmer. He died when I was thirty. (To the MUSICIAN) Will you stop that, please?
(The MUSICIAN stops playing)
I’m a feeble old woman … how do you expect anybody to hear me over that peep! peep! peep! (To herself) There’s no respect around here. (To the YOUNG MAN) There’s no respect around here!
YOUNG MAN
(Same smile) Hi!
GRANDMA
(After a pause, a mild double-take, continues, to the audience) My husband died when I was thirty (indicates MOMMY), and I had to raise that big cow over there all by my lonesome. You can imagine what that was like. Lordy! (To the YOUNG MAN) Where’d they get you?
YOUNG MAN
Oh … I’ve been around for a while.
GRANDMA
I’ll bet you have! Heh, heh, heh. Will you look at you!
YOUNG MAN
(Flexing his muscles) Isn’t that something? (Continues his calisthenics)
GRANDMA
Boy, oh boy; I’ll say. Pretty good.
YOUNG MAN (Sweetly)
I’ll say.
GRANDMA
Where ya from?
YOUNG MAN
Southern California.
GRANDMA (Nodding)
Figgers, figgers. What’s your name, honey?
YOUNG MAN
I don’t know. …
GRANDMA
(To the audience) Bright, too!
YOUNG MAN
I mean … I mean, they haven’t given me one yet … the studio …
GRANDMA
(Giving him the once-over) You don’t say … you don’t say. Well … uh, I’ve got to talk some more … don’t you go ’way.
YOUNG MAN
Oh, no.
GRANDMA
(Turning her attention back to the audience) Fine; fine. (Then, once more, back to the YOUNG MAN) You’re … you’re an actor, hunh?
YOUNG MAN (Beaming)
Yes. I am.
GRANDMA
(To the audience again; shrugs) I’m smart that way. Anyhow, I had to raise … that over there all by my lonesome; and what’s next to her there … that’s what she married. Rich? I tell you … money, money, money. They took me off the farm … which was real decent of them … and they moved me into the big town house with them … fixed a nice place for me under the stove … gave me an army blanket … and my own dish … my very own dish! So, what have I got to complain about? Nothing, of course. I’m not complaining. (She looks up at the sky, shouts to someone offstage) Shouldn’t it be getting dark now, dear?
(The lights dim; night comes on. The MUSICIAN begins to play; it becomes deepest night. There are spots on all the players, including the YOUNG MAN, who is, of course, continuing his calisthenics)
DADDY (Stirring)
It’s nighttime.
MOMMY
Shhhh. Be still … wait.
DADDY (Whining)
It’s so hot.
MOMMY
Shhhhhh. Be still … wait.
GRANDMA
(To herself) That’s better. Night. (To the MUSICIAN
) Honey, do you play all through this part?
(The MUSICIAN nods)
Well, keep it nice and soft; that’s a good boy.
(The MUSICIAN nods again; plays softly)
That’s nice.
(There is an off-stage rumble)
DADDY (Starting)
What was that?
MOMMY
(Beginning to weep) It was nothing.
DADDY
It was … it was … thunder … or a wave breaking … or something.
MOMMY
(Whispering, through her tears) It was an off-stage rumble and you know what that means. …
DADDY
I forget. …
MOMMY
(Barely able to talk) It means the time has come for poor Grandma … and I can’t bear it!
DADDY (Vacantly)
I … I suppose you’ve got to be brave.
GRANDMA (Mocking)
That’s right, kid; be brave. You’ll bear up; you’ll get over it.
(Another off-stage rumble … louder)
MOMMY
Ohhhhhhhhhh … poor Grandma … poor Grandma. …
GRANDMA (To MOMMY)
I’m fine! I’m all right! It hasn’t happened yet!
(A violent off-stage rumble. All the lights go out, save the spot on the YOUNG MAN; the MUSICIAn stops playing)
MOMMY
Ohhhhhhhhhh … Ohhhhhhhhhh. …
(Silence)
GRANDMA
Don’t put the lights up yet … I’m not ready; I’m not quite ready. (Silence) All right, dear … I’m about done.
(The lights come up again, to brightest day; the MUSICIAN begins to play. GRANDMA is discovered, still in the sandbox, lying on her side, propped up on an elbow, half covered, busily shoveling sand over herself)
GRANDMA (Muttering)
I don’t know how I’m supposed to do anything with this goddamn toy shovel. …
DADDY
Mommy! It’s daylight!
MOMMY (Brightly
So it is! Well! Our long night is over. We must put away our tears, take off our mourning … and face the future. It’s our duty.
GRANDMA
(Still shoveling; mimicking) … take off our mourning … face the future. … Lordy!
(MOMMY and DADDY rise, stretch. MOMMY waves to the YOUNG MAN)
YOUNG MAN
(With that smile) Hi!
(GRANDMA plays dead. (!) MOMMY and DADDY go over to look at her; she is a little more than half buried in the sand; the toy shovel is in her hands, which are crossed on her breast)
MOMMY
(Before the sandbox; shaking her head) Lovely! It’s … it’s hard to be sad … she looks … so happy. (With pride and conviction) It pays to do things well. (To the MUSICIAN) All right, you can stop now, if you want to. I mean, stay around for a swim, or something; it’s all right with us. (She sighs heavily) Well, Daddy … off we go.
DADDY
Brave Mommy!
MOMMY
Brave Daddy!
(They exit, stage-left)
GRANDMA
(After they leave; lying quite still) It pays to do things well. … Boy, oh boy! (She tries to sit up) … well, kids … (but she finds she can’t) … I … I can’t get up. I … I can’t move. …
(The YOUNG MAN stops his calisthenics, nods to the MUSICIAN, walks over to GRANDMA, kneels down by the sandbox)
GRANDMA
I … can’t move. …
YOUNG MAN
Shhhhh … be very still. …
GRANDMA
I … I can’t move. …
YOUNG MAN
Uh … ma’am; I … I have a line here.
GRANDMA
Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie; you go right ahead.
YOUNG MAN
I am … uh … I am …
GRANDMA
Take your time, dear.
YOUNG MAN
(Prepares; delivers the line like a real amateur) I am the Angel of Death. I am … uh … I am come for you.
GRANDMA
What … wha … (Then, with resignation) … ohhhh … ohhhh … I see.
(The YOUNG MAN bends over, kisses GRANDMA gently on the forehead)
GRANDMA
(Her eyes closed, her hands folded on her breast again, the shovel between her hands, a sweet smile on her face)
Well … that was very nice, dear …
YOUNG MAN
(Still kneeling) Shhhhhh … be still. …
GRANDMA
What I meant was … you did that very well, dear. …
YOUNG MAN (Blushing)
… oh …
GRANDMA
No; I mean it. You’ve got that … you’ve got a quality.
YOUNG MAN
(With his endearing smile) Oh … thank you; thank you very much … ma’am.
GRANDMA
(Slowly; softly—as the YOUNG MAN puts his hands on top of GRANDMA’s) You’re … you’re welcome … dear.
(Tableau. The MUSICIAN continues to play as the curtain slowly comes down)
CURTAIN
The American Dream
A PLAY IN ONE SCENE
For David Diamond
The American Dream was first produced by Theatre 1961, Richard Barr and Clinton Wilder, at the York Playhouse, New York City, on January 24, 1961. It was directed by Alan Schneider. The sets and costumes were by William Ritman. The cast was as follows:
DADDY
John C. Becher
MOMMY
Jane Hoffman
GRANDMA
Sudie Bond
MRS. BARKER
Nancy Cushman
THE YOUNG MAN
Ben Piazza
THE PLAYERS
MOMMY
DADDY
GRANDMA
MRS. BARKER
YOUNG MAN
THE SCENE
A living room. Two armchairs, one toward either side of the stage, facing each other diagonally out toward the audience. Against the rear wall, a sofa. A door, leading out from the apartment, in the rear wall, far stage-right. An archway, leading to other rooms, in the side wall, stage-left.
At the beginning, MOMMY and DADDY are seated in the armchairs, DADDY in the armchair stage-left, MOMMY in the other.
Curtain up. A silence. Then:
MOMMY
I don’t know what can be keeping them.
DADDY
They’re late, naturally.
MOMMY
Of course, they’re late; it never fails.
DADDY
That’s the way things are today, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
MOMMY
You’re quite right.
DADDY
When we took this apartment, they were quick enough to have me sign the lease; they were quick enough to take my check for two months’ rent in advance …
MOMMY
And one month’s security …
DADDY
… and one month’s security. They were quick enough to check my references; they were quick enough about all that. But now! But now, try to get the icebox fixed, try to get the doorbell fixed, try to get the leak in the johnny fixed! Just try it … they aren’t so quick about that.
MOMMY
Of course not; it never fails. People think they can get away with anything these days … and, of course they can. I went to buy a new hat yesterday.
(Pause)
I said, I went to buy a new hat yesterday.
DADDY
Oh! Yes … yes.
MOMMY
Pay attention.
DADDY
I am paying attention, Mommy.
MOMMY
Well, be sure you do.
DADDY
Oh, I am.
MOMMY
All right, Daddy; now listen.
DADDY
I’m listening, Mommy.
MOMMY
You’re sure!
DADDY
Yes … yes, I’m s
ure. I’m all ears.
MOMMY
(Giggles at the thought; then)
All right, now. I went to buy a new hat yesterday and I said, “I’d like a new hat, please.” And so, they showed me a few hats, green ones and blue ones, and I didn’t like any of them, not one bit. What did I say? What did I just say?
DADDY
You didn’t like any of them, not one bit.
MOMMY
That’s right; you just keep paying attention. And then they showed me one that I did like. It was a lovely little hat, and I said, “Oh, this is a lovely little hat; I’ll take this hat; oh my, it’s lovely. What color is it?” And they said, “Why, this is beige; isn’t it a lovely little beige hat?” And I said, “Oh, it’s just lovely.” And so, I bought it.
(Stops, looks at DADDY)
DADDY
(To show he is paying attention)
And so you bought it.
MOMMY
And so I bought it, and I walked out of the store with the hat right on my head, and I ran spang into the chairman of our woman’s club, and she said, “Oh, my dear, isn’t that a lovely little hat? Where did you get that lovely little hat? It’s the loveliest little hat; I’ve always wanted a wheat-colored hat myself” And, I said, “Why, no, my dear; this hat is beige; beige.” And she laughed and said, “Why no, my dear, that’s a wheat-colored hat … wheat. I know beige from wheat.” And I said, “Well, my dear, I know beige from wheat, too.” What did I say? What did I just say?
DADDY
(Tonelessly)
Well, my dear, I know beige from wheat, too.
MOMMY
That’s right. And she laughed, and she said, “Well, my dear, they certainly put one over on you. That’s wheat if I ever saw wheat. But it’s lovely, just the same.” And then she walked off. She’s a dreadful woman, you don’t know her; she has dreadful taste, two dreadful children, a dreadful house, and an absolutely adorable husband who sits in a wheelchair all the time. You don’t know him. You don’t know anybody, do you? She’s just a dreadful woman, but she is chairman of our woman’s club, so naturally I’m terribly fond of her. So, I went right back into the hat shop, and I said, “Look here; what do you mean selling me a hat that you say is beige, when it’s wheat all the time … wheat! I can tell beige from wheat any day in the week, but not in this artificial light of yours.” They have artificial light, Daddy.
DADDY
Have they!
MOMMY
And I said, “The minute I got outside I could tell that it wasn’t a beige hat at all; it was a wheat hat.” And they said to me, “How could you tell that when you had the hat on the top of your head?” Well, that made me angry, and so I made a scene right there; I screamed as hard as I could; I took my hat off and I threw it down on the counter, and oh, I made a terrible scene. I said, I made a terrible scene.
