VICTOR: You told him you were ready to give me the money?
WALTER: Victor, you remember the … the helplessness in his voice. At that time? With Mother recently gone and everything shot out from under him?
VICTOR, persisting: Let me understand that, Walter; did you tell—?
WALTER, in anguish, but hewing to himself: There are conversations, aren’t there, and looking back it’s impossible to explain why you said or didn’t say certain things? I’m not defending it, but I would like to be understood, if that’s possible. You all seemed to need each other more, Vic—more than I needed them. I was never able to feel your kind of … faith in him; that.… confidence. His selfishness—which was perfectly normal—was always obvious to me, but you never seemed to notice it. To the point where I used to blame myself for a lack of feeling. You understand? So when he said that you wanted to help him, I felt somehow that it’d be wrong for me to try to break it up between you. It seemed like interfering.
VICTOR: I see.—Because he never mentioned you’d offered the money.
WALTER: All I’m trying to convey is that … I was never indifferent; that’s the whole point. I did call here to offer the loan, but he made it impossible, don’t you see?
VICTOR: I understand.
WALTER, eagerly: Do you?
VICTOR: Yes.
WALTER, sensing the unsaid: Please say what you think. It’s absurd to go on this way. What do you want to say?
VICTOR—slight pause: I think it was all … very convenient for you.
WALTER, appalled: That’s all?
VICTOR: I think so. If you thought Dad meant so much to me—and I guess he did in a certain way—why would five hundred bucks break us apart? I’d have gone on supporting him; it would have let me finish school, that’s all.—It doesn’t make any sense, Walter.
WALTER, with a hint of hysteria in his tone: What makes sense?
VICTOR: You didn’t give me the money because you didn’t want to.
WALTER, hurt and quietly enraged—slight pause: It’s that simple.
VICTOR: That’s what it comes to, doesn’t it? Not that you had any obligation, but if you want to help somebody you do it, if you don’t you don’t. He sees Walter’s growing frustration and Esther’s impatience. Well, why is that so astonishing? We do what we want to do, don’t we? Walter doesn’t reply. Victor’s anxiety rises. I don’t understand what you’re bringing this all up for.
WALTER: You don’t feel the need to heal anything.
VICTOR: I wouldn’t mind that, but how does this heal anything?
ESTHER: I think he’s been perfectly clear, Victor. He’s asking your friendship.
VICTOR: By offering me a job and twelve thousand dollars?
WALTER: Why not? What else can I offer you?
VICTOR: But why do you have to offer me anything?
Walter is silent, morally checked.
It sounds like I have to be saved, or something.
WALTER: I simply felt that there was work you could do that you’d enjoy and I—
VICTOR: Walter, I haven’t got the education, what are you talking about? You can’t walk in with one splash and wash out twenty-eight years. There’s a price people pay. I’ve paid it, it’s all gone, I haven’t got it any more. Just like you paid, didn’t you? You’ve got no wife, you’ve lost your family, you’re rattling around all over the place? Can you go home and start all over again from scratch? This is where we are; now, right here, now. And as long as we’re talking, I have to tell you that this is not what you say in front of a man’s wife.
WALTER, glancing at Esther, certainty shattered: What have I said … ?
VICTOR, trying to laugh: We don’t need to be saved, Walter! I’ve done a job that has to be done and I think I’ve done it straight. You talk about being out of the rat race, in my opinion, you’re in it as deep as you ever were. Maybe more.
ESTHER—stands: I want to go, Victor.
VICTOR: Please, Esther, he’s said certain things and I don’t think I can leave it this way.
ESTHER, angrily: Well, what’s the difference?
VICTOR, suppressing an outburst: Because for some reason you don’t understand anything any more! He is trembling as he turns to Walter. What are you trying to tell me—that it was all unnecessary? Is that it?
Walter is silent.
Well, correct me, is that the message? Because that’s all I get out of this.
WALTER, toward Esther: I guess it’s impossible—
VICTOR, the more strongly because Walter seems about to be allied with Esther. What’s impossible? … What do you want, Walter!
WALTER—in the pause is the admission that he indeed has not leveled yet. And there is fear in his voice: I wanted to be of some use. I’ve learned some painful things, but it isn’t enough to know; I wanted to act on what I know.
VICTOR: Act—in what way?
WALTER, knowing it may be a red flag, but his honor is up: I feel … I could be of help. Why live, only to repeat the same mistakes again and again? I didn’t want to let the chance go by, as I let it go before.
Victor is unconvinced.
And I must say, if this is as far as you can go with me, then you’re only defeating yourself.
VICTOR: Like I did before.
Walter is silent.
Is that what you mean?
WALTER—hesitates, then with frightened but desperate acceptance of combat: All right, yes; that’s what I meant.
VICTOR: Well, that’s what I thought.—See, there’s one thing about the cops—you get to learn how to listen to people, because if you don’t hear right sometimes you end up with a knife in your back. In other words, I dreamed up the whole problem.
WALTER, casting aside his caution, his character at issue: Victor, my five hundred dollars was not what kept you from your degree! You could have left Pop and gone right on—he was perfectly fit.
VICTOR: And twelve million unemployed, what was that, my neurosis? I hypnotized myself every night to scrounge the outer leaves of lettuce from the Greek restaurant on the corner? The good parts we cut out of rotten grapefruit … ?
WALTER: I’m not trying to deny—
VICTOR, leaning into Walter’s face: We were eating garbage here, buster!
ESTHER: But what is the point of—
VICTOR, to Esther: What are you trying to do, turn it all into a dream? To Walter: And perfectly fit! What about the inside of his head? The man was ashamed to go into the street!
ESTHER: But Victor, he’s gone now.
VICTOR, with a cry—he senses the weakness of his position: Don’t tell me he’s gone now! He is wracked, terribly alone before her. He was here then, wasn’t he? And a system broke down, did I invent that?
ESTHER: No, dear, but it’s all different now.
VICTOR: What’s different now? We’re a goddamned army holding this city down and when it blows again you’ll be thankful for a roof over your head! To Walter: How can you say that to me? I could have left him with your five dollars a month? I’m sorry, you can’t brainwash me—if you got a hook in your mouth don’t try to stick it into mine. You want to make up for things, you don’t come around to make fools out of people. I didn’t invent my life. Not altogether. You had a responsibility here and you walked on it.… You can go. I’ll send you your half.
He is across the room from Walter, his face turned away. A long pause.
WALTER: If you can reach beyond anger, I’d like to tell you something. Vic? Victor does not move. I know I should have said this many years ago. But I did try. When you came to me I told you—remember I said, “Ask Dad for money”? I did say that.
Pause.
VICTOR: What are you talking about?
WALTER: He had nearly four thousand dollars.
ESTHER: When?
WALTER: When they were eating garbage here.
Pause.
VICTOR: How do you know that?
WALTER: He’d asked me to invest it for him.
&
nbsp; VICTOR: Invest it.
WALTER: Yes. Not long before he sent you to me for the loan.
Victor is silent.
That’s why I never sent him more than I did. And if I’d had the strength of my convictions I wouldn’t have sent him that!
Victor sits down in silence. A shame is flooding into him which he struggles with. He looks at nobody.
VICTOR, as though still absorbing the fact: He actually had it? In the bank?
WALTER: Vic, that’s what he was living on, basically, till he died. What we gave him wasn’t enough; you know that.
VICTOR: But he had those jobs—
WALTER: Meant very little. He lived on his money, believe me. I told him at the time, if he would send you through I’d contribute properly. But here he’s got you running from job to job to feed him—I’m damned if I’d sacrifice when he was holding out on you. You can understand that, can’t you?
Victor turns to the center chair and, shaking his head, exhales a blow of anger and astonishment.
Kid, there’s no point getting angry now. You know how terrified he was that he’d never earn anything any more. And there was just no reassuring him.
VICTOR, with protest—it is still nearly incredible: But he saw I was supporting him, didn’t he?
WALTER: For how long, though?
VICTOR, angering: What do you mean, how long? He could see I wasn’t walking out—
WALTER: I know, but he was sure you would sooner or later.
ESTHER: He was waiting for him to walk out.
WALTER—fearing to inflame Victor, he undercuts the obvious answer: Well … you could say that, yes.
ESTHER: I knew it! God, when do I believe what I see!
WALTER: He was terrified, dear, and … To Victor: I don’t mean that he wasn’t grateful to you, but he really couldn’t understand it. I may as well say it, Vic—I myself never imagined you’d go that far.
Victor looks at him. Walter speaks with delicacy in the face of a possible explosion.
Well, you must certainly see now how extreme a thing it was, to stick with him like that? And at such cost to you?
Victor is silent.
ESTHER, with sorrow: He sees it.
WALTER, to erase it all, to achieve the reconciliation: We could work together, Vic. I know we could. And I’d love to try it. What do you say?
There is a long pause. Victor now glances at Esther to see her expression. He sees she wants him to. He is on the verge of throwing it all up. Finally he turns to Walter, a new note of awareness in his voice.
VICTOR: Why didn’t you tell me he had that kind of money?
WALTER: But I did when you came to me for the loan.
VICTOR: To “ask Dad”?
WALTER: Yes!
VICTOR: But would I have come to you if I had the faintest idea he had four thousand dollars under his ass? It was meaningless to say that to me.
WALTER: Now just a second … He starts to indicate the harp.
VICTOR: Cut it out, Walter! I’m sorry, but it’s kind of insulting. I’m not five years old! What am I supposed to make of this? You knew he had that kind of money, and came here many times, you sat here, the two of you, watching me walking around in this suit? And now you expect me to—?
WALTER, sharply: You certainly knew he had something, Victor!
VICTOR: What do you want here? What do you want here!
WALTER: Well, all I can tell you is that I wouldn’t sit around eating garbage with that staring me in the face! He points at the harp. Even then it was worth a couple of hundred, maybe more! Your degree was right there. Right there, if nothing else.
Victor is silent, trembling.
But if you want to go on with this fantasy, it’s all right with me. God knows, I’ve had a few of my own.
He starts for his coat.
VICTOR: Fantasy.
WALTER: It’s a fantasy, Victor. Your father was penniless and your brother a son of a bitch, and you play no part at all. I said to ask him because you could see in front of your face that he had some money. You knew it then and you certainly know it now.
VICTOR: You mean if he had a few dollars left, that—?
ESTHER: What do you mean, a few dollars?
VICTOR, trying to retract: I didn’t know he—
ESTHER: But you knew he had something?
VICTOR, caught; as though in a dream where nothing is explicable: I didn’t say that.
ESTHER: Then what are you saying?
VICTOR, pointing at Walter: Don’t you have anything to say to him?
ESTHER: I want to understand what you’re saying! You knew he had money left?
VICTOR: Not four thousand dol—
ESTHER: But enough to make out?
VICTOR, crying out in anger and for release: I couldn’t nail him to the wall, could I? He said he had nothing!
ESTHER, stating and asking: But you knew better.
VICTOR: I don’t know what I knew! He has called this out, and his voice and words surprise him. He sits staring, cornered by what he senses in himself.
ESTHER: It’s a farce. It’s all a goddamned farce!
VICTOR: Don’t. Don’t say that.
ESTHER: Farce! To stick us into a furnished room so you could send him part of your pay? Even after we were married, to go on sending him money? Put off having children, live like mice—and all the time you knew he … ? Victor, I’m trying to understand you. Victor?—Victor!
VICTOR, roaring out, agonized: Stop it! Silence. Then: Jesus, you can’t leave everything out like this. The man was a beaten dog, ashamed to walk in the street, how do you demand his last buck—?
ESTHER: You’re still saying that? The man had four thousand dollars!
He is silent.
It was all an act! Beaten dog!—he was a calculating liar! And in your heart you knew it!
He is struck silent by the fact, which is still ungraspable.
No wonder you’re paralyzed—you haven’t believed a word you’ve said all these years We’ve been lying away our existence all these years; down the sewer, day after day after day … to protect a miserable cheap manipulator. No wonder it all seemed like a dream to me—it was; a goddamned nightmare. I knew it was all unreal, I knew it and I let it go by. Well, I can’t any more, kid. I can’t watch it another day. I’m not ready to die. She moves toward her purse.
She sits. Pause.
VICTOR—not going to her; he can’t. He is standing yards from her. This isn’t true either.
ESTHER: We are dying, that’s what’s true!
VICTOR: I’ll tell you what happened. You want to hear it? She catches the lack of advocacy in his tone, the simplicity. He moves from her, gathering himself, and glances at the center chair, then at Walter. I did tell him what you’d said to me. I faced him with it. He doesn’t go on; his eyes go to the chair. Not that I “faced” him, I just told him—“Walter said to ask you.” He stops; his stare is on the center chair, caught by memory; in effect, the last line was addressed to the chair.
WALTER: And what happened?
Pause.
VICTOR, quietly: He laughed. I didn’t know what to make of it. Tell you the truth—to Esther—I don’t think a week has gone by that I haven’t seen that laugh. Like it was some kind of a wild joke—because we were eating garbage here. He breaks off. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. And I went out. I went—he sits, staring—over to Bryant Park behind the public library. Slight pause. The grass was covered with men. Like a battlefield; a big open-air flophouse. And not bums—some of them still had shined shoes and good hats, busted businessmen, lawyers, skilled mechanics. Which I’d seen a hundred times. But suddenly—you know?—I saw it. Slight pause. There was no mercy. Anywhere. Glancing at the chair at the end of the table: One day you’re the head of the house, at the head of the table, and suddenly you’re shit. Overnight. And I tried to figure out that laugh.—How could he be holding out on me when he loved me?
ESTHER: Loved…
VIC
TOR, his voice swelling with protest: He loved me, Esther! He just didn’t want to end up on the grass! It’s not that you don’t love somebody, it’s that you’ve got to survive. We know what that feels like, don’t we!
She can’t answer, feeling the barb.
We do what we have to do. With a wide gesture including her and Walter and himself: What else are we talking about here? If he did have something left it was—
ESTHER: “If” he had—
VICTOR: What does that change! I know I’m talking like a fool, but what does that change? He couldn’t believe in anybody any more, and it was unbearable to me! The unlooked-for return of his old feelings seems to anger him. Of Walter: He’d kicked him in the face; my mother—he glances toward Walter as he speaks; there is hardly a pause—the night he told us he was bankrupt, my mother … It was right on this couch. She was all dressed up—for some affair, I think. Her hair was piled up, and long earrings? And he had his tuxedo on… and made us all sit down; and he told us it was all gone. And she vomited. Slight pause. His horror and pity twist in his voice. All over his arms. His hands. Just kept on vomiting, like thirty-five years coming up. And he sat there. Stinking like a sewer. And a look came onto his face. I’d never seen a man look like that. He was sitting there, letting it dry on his hands. Pause. He turns to Esther. What’s the difference what you know? Do you do everything you know?
She avoids his eyes, his mourning shared.
Not that I excuse it; it was idiotic, nobody has to tell me that. But you’re brought up to believe in one another, you’re filled full of that crap—you can’t help trying to keep it going, that’s all. I thought if I stuck with him, if he could see that somebody was still … He breaks off; the reason strangely has fallen loose. He sits. I can’t explain it; I wanted to … stop it from falling apart. I … He breaks off again, staring.
Pause.
WALTER, quietly: It won’t work, Vic.
Victor looks at him, then Esther does.
The Price Page 8
