Bradbury, Ray - SSC 17
Page 4
VILLANAZUL
… White as the snow on the mountain called…
Smoke is exhaled about all their faces from one side. Slowly, all of them turn to see who is there. Vamenos, smiling, is behind them, smoking, holding a wine bottle up.
VAMENOS
I’m back! A party! The wine! Eh, who gets to wear the suit first tonight! Me?
GOMEZ
(panicky; peers at watch)It’s too late. Nine o’clock!
VAMENOS
(shocked)Late!
ALL
Late?!!
Dominguez goes to the window to look, to point down.
DOMINGUEZ
(to music)Late? It is a fine Saturday night in a summer month. The air is sweet. Hear the far music? While women drift through the warm darkness like flowers on a quiet stream …
The men make a mournful, trapped sound. The far guitar dies.
VILLANAZUL
(wielding pad and pencil)Gomez, I ask the favor. You wear the suit tonight from nine-thirty to ten. Manulo till ten-thirty, Dominguez till eleven, myself till eleven-thirty, Martinez till midnight-
VAMENOS
(indignant; removing cigar from mouth)Hey! Why me last?
MARTINEZ
(thinking quickly)After midnight is the best time of all!
VAMENOS
(thinks)Sure. That’s right!(smiles)OK.
GOMEZ
OK. And from tonight on, we each wear the suit one night a week, eh? On the extra night, Sunday, we draw straws to see who wears the suit then.
VAMENOS
Me, every time! I’m lucky!
Every face falls at this news.
MANULO
Can the talk! Gomez, you thought of this. You wear the suit first!
Gomez manages to tear his eyes away from the disreputable Vamenos. He accepts fate and shrugs. Then, impulsively, like a snake shedding his skin in one great movement, he shucks off his old coat and shirt, almost in one motion, yelling.
GOMEZ
Aye-hah! Aye-yeeeeeeee!
Blackout.
Past guitar.
In the dark, more happy cries: “The clean shirt!” “Here!” “The pants!” “Here!” “Now the new socks!” “The socks!” “Who ties the best tie?” “Me!” “The shoes!” “All polished!” “Now, now-at last-The coat if you please!”
The lights come up. The men are gathered, we think, to the dummy, as before, fussing with it. Then they stand back.
Gomez stands alone in the center of their excitement.
VILLANAZUL
Ah!
MANULO
Gomez, you look like a saint!(looks up)Forgive me, God, for saying that!
Gomez is like a bullfighter posed there, imperturbably proud, waiting for the last investment with his “suit of lights.” He gestures. Villanazul and Martinez together lift the coat behind him.
VILLANAZUL and MARTINEZ
The coat! Here!
GOMEZ
(breathes in)Oh, it even smells good!
VILLANAZUL
How clean it sounds! Listen! How easily it whispers, going on!
They all listen as Gomez assumes the sleeves. He poses like a matador! Far away, a loving crowd sighs: “Ole!”
GOMEZ
(after the beat)We got no mirror!
VILLANAZUL
Sure you got a mirror! Here. All of us! Stand close.
Villanazul arranges the others close-packed with himself. Gomez falls in with this kindness, and preens himself before them. They look where he walks, turns, adjusts his tie, fixes his cuff. Their gaze is bright.
GOMEZ
Ah, God, I can see myself in your eyes, your faces! Put me in a store window, I don’t deserve to go out!
VILLANAZUL
(softly)Out, Gomez … out… He smiles into that “mirror” and goes to the door, where he places his ears, eyes shut.
GOMEZ
Listen to all those women out there … waiting.
They listen. They nod. Gomez turns about once and goes out left. As the door slams,
Blackout.
Guitar music.
Then, almost immediately, Gomez reenters far stage left.
The tenement room is, of course, gone. A spotlight fixes Gomez as he adjusts his tie and checks the button on his coat and lovingly touches the snowy sleeves of the suit. Then he looks up and out.
A voice speaks from the darkness!
THE VOICE
Gomez! Is that you?!
He looks left.
In a spotlight, hanging upon the air is a long, semitransparent scarf hung floating, provocative, light, soft, beautiful.
GOMEZ
Rosita!
Another voice speaks from further over.
THE SECOND VOICE
Gomez! I didn’t know you!
A second spot flicks on. In it drifts a second long and diaphanous scarf, a different color. Gomez bows to it.
GOMEZ
Marguerita, it is me!
Other voices call. Other scarves appear in a double line across the darkness.
THE VOICES
Gomez! Gomez! Gomez!Que hermosa! Where are you going?
GOMEZ
This way!
He runs. On the way, he “reaps” the scarves, a half dozen over his right arm, a half dozen over his left.
Blackout.
Music.
The lights come on again almost immediately to find the owners of the suit waiting on each side of the apartment door.
VAMENOS
Half hour’s up!
MARTINEZ
Where’s Gomez?
VILLANAZUL
Wait! Listen! He’s outside the door.
They listen.
VAMENOS
Someone’s out there, OK.
MARTINEZ
Why don’t he come in?!
Villanazul opens the door. Gomez stands there, entranced with his experience with the suit, arms out away from his body as if a half dozen “women” were draped over each.
VILLANAZUL
Gomez! Come in! How was it?
Gomez wanders in. His arms are, of course, empty, but the memory of his encounters lingers. He dreams. He floats.
MARTINEZ
Gomez! Say something!
Gomez takes a deep breath, sighs, and says at last:
GOMEZ
Who’s next?
MANULO
Me!
Manulo darts in from off right, stripped to his shorts.
Everyone shouts.
Blackout.
Music.
When the light comes up, the music slows. Now who do we find but Manulo playing the guitar, a little louder, a little faster, luring from the shadows, with the whiteness of his suit and the playing of his music, the shapes of women, perhaps the two women whom we saw earlier passing on the arms of the stranger. The two women reach Manulo, who pretends not to see them drawn to him. At the last moment he strikes a chord, tosses the guitar aside, embraces them both.
Blackout.
ALL
(in darkness)Who’s next? Dominguez!
Fast music. And the spotlight again. And dancing to the music, in the spotlight-in the white suit-Dominguez! He whirls about, he poses.
Blackout.
ALL
(in darkness)Who’s next? Villanazul!
The music is very slow and thoughtful. Villanazul comes out of the darkness, looking here and there, all about. He is wearing the suit now and looks warmly happy. A single sign is posted: THE PLAZA. There is a vast muttering, murmuring, as of many people in a good argument. Villanazul moves like a fish in his proper element, bathed in the free flow of words. We can hear a few snatches of the discussions being carried on.
ONE VOICE
-there is only one way to stop the gold from flowing out of the country-
A SECOND VOICE
-in the next election, as an individual, I say to you people in the Plaza-we can only look-
Villanazul has reach
ed a small soapbox. He ascends it.
Almost immediately there is a hush, a different kind of murmur.
With a single proud but benevolent nod, Villanazul tunes down the murmur another decibel. With one smile he brings absolute cutoff silence. He waits a heartbeat and then:
VILLANAZUL
Friends. Do you know Thomas Carlyle’s book Sartor Resartus? In that book we find his Philosophy of Suits… !!
The audience gasps in admiration.
The spot on Villanazul grows intensely bright.
The audience lets out its admiration in a great “Ah!” as if watching a bright fireworks come down amongst them.
And as the “Ah” fades, so does the light.
Darkness.
And we hear a single chord of the guitar.
And then another.
And at last from a door on the far stage right, Martinez ventures with great trepidation out, and moves through the darkness to stand under a window to the far left.
MARTINEZ
This is where she lives. That is her window. She must feel the suit burning even through those walls. Come on, suit! Bring her to the window.
He shuts his eyes. He leans on the night, eagerly, thinking. A small light comes on in the window above.
Martinez opens his eyes at this.
MARTINEZ
Yes!
A brighter light comes on.
MARTINEZ
Yes!
A shadow moves at the window.
MARTINEZ
Yes!
The window opens, the beautiful young woman is there.
MARTINEZ
(softly)Yes.
The young woman looks around, as if she had been hearing her name called for some minutes and that is why she has come to the window.
MARTINEZ
(whispers)This way.
The young woman looks off into the distance, a strange expression in her eyes.
MARTINEZ
(as above)Here … !
But still she looks all around.
MARTINEZ
What’s wrong?!! Ah, God, even the blind can see this suit!
The girl looks down, squints.
MARTINEZ
Ah…
He starts to speak. The girl turns, vanishes.
MARTINEZ
(stunned)No! No…
But now she returns. She lifts her hand. A pair of hornrimmed glasses appear in that hand.
MARTINEZ
Madre mia, speak of the lovely blind…
She peers about then sees something.
THE YOUNG WOMAN
(to herself)What is that whiteness down there?
MARTINEZ
(half aloud, an anxious whisper)The suit! The suit!
THE YOUNG WOMAN
What is that other whiteness down there?
Martinez beams up, all teeth. At last she puts on her glasses.
THE YOUNG WOMAN
A smile!
MARTINEZ
(waves politely once, nods)Manuel Martinez.
Shyly she looks down at him through her horn-runs.
THE YOUNG WOMAN
(quietly)Celia Obregon.
MARTINEZ
(remembering it)Celia Obregon.
THE YOUNG WOMAN
(likewise)Manuel Martinez.
MARTINEZ
Next Wednesday night, may I visit your family?
THE YOUNG WOMAN
Yes.
MARTINEZ
You will not forget?
She takes off her glasses.
THE YOUNG WOMAN
No. I see you clearly, even now. The two whitenesses. The suit. The smile.
MARTINEZ
I will bring them both! Celia Obregon.
THE YOUNG WOMAN
Manuel Martinez.
She shuts the window. The light goes out. Martinez crows like a rooster, happily turning in circles.
MARTINEZ
Aye-hah! Heeee! Oh, friends! Gomez! Villanazul! Manulo!! Dominguez! To you! For you! With you! He makes one fine pool shot as he names Gomez. He rrr-rolls the name of Villanazul. Shouting “Manulo!” and “Dominguez!” he strums a guitar once, twice, throws it into darkness, and furiously dances as the lights black out and the music continues in a fine frenzy.
As soon as possible the lights come on in the tenement room. The men are waiting by the door. Manulo is listening, his ear to the keyhole.
MANULO
Atencion! Here comes someone! Martinez! He’s singing!
We hear the singing.
MANULO
He’s dancing!
We hear the dancing, as do the co-owners of the suit.
MANULO
He’s drunk!
There is a knock on the door, one, two!
Villanazul opens the door. Martinez looks in, smiling.
MARTINEZ
I am looking for Manuel Martinez!
Everyone gasps, bemused, puzzled.
VILLANAZUL
Manuel, you are Martinez!
MARTINEZ
No, no! Martinez is gone! In his place-who knows?
MANULO
He’s drunk!
MARTINEZ
With the suit! With life! Us all together! The store, here, and laughing, and feeling more drunk, eh, without drinking, and everyone in and out of the coat, the pants, grabbing hold, falling, eh? And one walking out and coming back, and another, and another, and now me! Here I am! So tall! So pure! Like one who gives orders and the world grows quiet and moves aside … Martinez, who is he? Who am I?
DOMINGUEZ
Here! Look! We borrowed this while you were out!
GOMEZ
Three mirrors, count them!
Manulo and Dominguez run forward carrying a three-way mirror which they set up.
MARTINEZ
(with delight)Ah! Ah! Look! Three men! Who are they? There’s Manulo! Inside the suit! And Dominguez!
MANULO
Hey, what?
DOMINGUEZ
Let me see!
They crowd around. Manulo puts his head on Martinez’s left shoulder, posing. Dominguez puts his head on the right shoulder. Martinez now has three heads.
MANULO and DOMINGUEZ
Ah! Ah!
MARTINEZ
And Gomez and Villanazul!
They crowd in, too, with general elation. Only Vamenos stands back, uneasily.