by Paula Vogel
XIV.
THE THIRD MAN: Anna has a difficult time sleeping. She is afflicted with night thoughts. According to Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, there are six stages the terminal patient travels in the course of her illness.
The First Stage: Denial and Isolation.
(The Third Man stays in the hotel room and watches Carl and Anna in the bed. They are sleeping, when Anna sits upright.)
ANNA: I feel so alone. The ceiling is pressing down on me. I can’t believe I am dying. Only at night. Only at night. In the morning, when I open my eyes, I feel absolutely well—without a body. And then the thought comes crashing in my mind. This is the last spring I may see. This is the last summer. It can’t be. There must be a mistake. They mixed the specimens up in the hospital. Some poor person is walking around, dying, with the false confidence of my prognosis, thinking themselves well. It’s a clerical error.
Carl! I can’t sleep. Do you think they made a mistake?
CARL: Come back to sleep.
(Carl pulls Anna down on the bed to him, and strokes her brow.
They change positions on the bed.)
THE THIRD MAN: The Second Stage: Anger.
ANNA (Sits bolt upright in bed, angry): How could this happen to me! I did my lesson plans faithfully for the past ten years! I’ve taught in classrooms without walls—kept up on new audio-visual aids—I read Summerhill! And I believed it! When the principal assigned me the job of the talent show—and nobody wants to do the talent show—I pleaded for cafeteria duty, bus duty—but no, I got stuck with the talent show. And those kids put on the best darn show that school has ever seen! Which one of them did this to me? Emily Baker? For slugging Johnnie MacIntosh? Johnnie MacIntosh? Because I sent him home for exposing himself to Susy Higgins? Susy Higgins? Because I called her out on her nose-picking? Or those Nader twins? I’ve spent the best years of my life giving to those kids—it’s not—
CARL: Calm down, sweetie. You’re angry. It’s only natural to be angry. Elizabeth Kübler-Ross says that—
ANNA: What does she know about what it feels like to die?! Elizabeth Kübler-Ross can sit on my face!
(Carl and Anna change positions on the bed.)
THE THIRD MAN: The Third Stage: Bargaining.
ANNA: Do you think if I let Elizabeth Kübler-Ross sit on my face I’ll get well?
(Carl and Anna change positions on the bed.)
THE THIRD MAN: The Fourth Stage: Depression.
CARL (Sits on the side of the bed beside Anna): Anna… honey—come on, wake up.
ANNA: Leave me alone.
CARL: Come on, sweetie…you’ve been sleeping all day now, and you slept all yesterday. Do you want to sleep away our last day in France?
ANNA: Why bother?
CARL: You’ve got to eat something. You’ve got to fight this. For me.
ANNA: Leave me alone.
(Carl lies down beside Anna. They change positions.)
THE THIRD MAN: The Fifth Stage: Acceptance.
(Anna and Carl are lying in bed, awake. They hold hands.)
ANNA: When I’m gone, I want you to find someone.
CARL: Let’s not talk about me.
ANNA: No, I want to. It’s important to me to know that you’ll be happy and taken care of after…when I’m gone.
CARL: Please.
ANNA: I’ve got to talk about it. We’ve shared everything else. I want you to know how it feels…what I’m thinking…when I hold your hand, and I kiss it…I try to memorize what it looks like, your hand…I wonder if there’s any memory in the grave?
THE THIRD MAN: And then there’s the Sixth Stage: Hope.
(Anna and Carl rise from the bed.)
CARL: How are you feeling?
ANNA: I feel good today.
CARL: Do you feel like traveling?
ANNA: Yes. It would be nice to see Amsterdam. Together. We might as well see as much as we can while I’m well—
CARL: That’s right, sweetie. And maybe you can eat something—
ANNA: I’m hungry. That’s a good sign, don’t you think?
CARL: That’s a wonderful sign. You’ll see. You’ll feel better when you eat.
ANNA: Maybe the doctor in Vienna can help.
CARL: That’s right.
ANNA: What’s drinking a little piss? It can’t hurt you.
CARL: Right. Who knows? We’ve got to try.
ANNA: I’ll think of it as…European lager.
CARL: Golden Heidelberg.
(Carl and Anna hum/sing the drinking song from The Student Prince.)
XV.
THE THIRD MAN: And as Anna and Carl took the train into Holland, the seductive swaying of the TEE-train aroused another sensation. Unbeknownst to Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, there is a Seventh Stage for the dying. There is a growing urge to fight the sickness of the body with the health of the body.
The Seventh Stage: Lust.
(Anna and Carl are seated in a train compartment. Carl holds the stuffed rabbit out to Anna.)
ANNA: Why?
CARL: Just take it. Hold it for me. Just through Customs.
ANNA: Only if you tell me why.
CARL: Don’t play games right now. Or we’ll be in deep, deep do-do.
(Anna reluctantly takes the stuffed rabbit and holds it.)
ANNA: You’re scaring me.
CARL: I’m sorry, sweetie. You’re the only one I can trust to hold my rabbit. Trust me. It’s important.
ANNA: Then why won’t you tell me—?
CARL: There are some things you’re better off not knowing.
ANNA: Are you smuggling drugs? Jewels?
CARL (Whispers): It’s beyond measure. It’s invaluable to me. That’s all I’ll say.
(In a louder tone) Just act normal now.
CUSTOMS OFFICIAL: UW paspoort, aistublieft.
(Anna and Carl give him their passports. Carl is nervous. Anna smiles at the Customs Official a bit lasciviously.)
CUSTOMS OFFICIAL: Have you anything to declare?
ANNA (Whispering): Yes, Captain, I’m smuggling contraband. I demand to be searched. In private.
CUSTOMS OFFICIAL (Blushes): Excuse me?
ANNA: Yes. I said—waar is het damestoilet?
CUSTOMS OFFICIAL: Oh…I thought…
(The Customs Official Giggles.)
ANNA: Yes?
CUSTOMS OFFICIAL: First left.
(He returns their passports)
Have a very pleasant stay.
(Anna waves bunny’s arm goodbye. The Customs Official looks at her, blushes again and retreats. Carl relaxes.)
CARL: You’re good at this. Very good.
ANNA: When in Holland, do like the Dutch…Mata Hari was Dutch, you know.
XVI.
CARL: Questions sur le dialogue. Est-ce que les hommes hollandais sont comme les français? Are Dutch men like the French?
(Anna and The Little Dutch Boy at Age 50. He wears traditional wooden shoes, trousers and vest. His Buster Brown haircut and hat make him look dissipated.)
THE LITTLE DUTCH BOY AT AGE 50: It was kermis time, the festival in my village. And I had too much bier with my school friends, Piet and Jan. Ja. Soo, Piet thought we should go to the outer dyke with cans of spray paint, after the kermis. So we went.
Here in Noord Brabant there are three walls of defenses against the cruelty of the North Sea. The first dyke is called the Waker—the Watcher; the second dyke is de Slaper—the Sleeper; and the last dyke, which had never before been tested, is known as the Dromer—the Dreamer.
And when we got to the Dreamer, Piet said to me: “Willem, you do it.” Meaning I was to write on the walls of the Dreamer. This is why I was always in trouble in school—Piet and Jan would say, “Willem, you do it.” And whatever it was, I would do it.
Soo, I took up a can of the paint and in very big letters, I wrote in Dutch that our schoolmaster, Mijnheer Van Doorn, was a gas-passer. Everyone could read the letters from far away. And just as I was finishing this, and Piet and Jan were laughing be
hind me, I looked—I was on my knees, pressed up against the dyke—and I could see that the wall of the Dreamer was cracking its surface, very fine little lines, like a goose egg when it breaks from within.
And I yelled to my friends: Look! And they came a bit closer, and as we looked, right above my head, a little hole began to peck its way through the clay. And there was just a small trickle of water. And Jan said: “Willem, put your thumb in that hole.” And by that time, the hole in the dyke was just big enough to put my thumb in. “Why?” I asked of Jan. “Just do it,” he said. And so I did.
And once I put my thumb in, I could not get it out. Suddenly we could hear the waves crashing as the Sleeper began to collapse. Only the Dreamer remained to hold off the savage water. “Help me!” I yelled to Jan and Piet—but they ran away. “Vlug!” I cried—but no one could hear me. And I stayed there, crouching, with my thumb stuck into the clay. And I thought what if the Dreamer should give in, too. How the waves would bear my body like a messenger to the village. How no one would survive the flood. Only the church steeple to mark the spot where we had lived. How young we were to die.
(Pause)
Have you ever imagined what it would be like to be face to face with death?
ANNA: Yes…yes I have.
THE LITTLE DUTCH BOY AT AGE 50: And have you ever prayed for deliverance against all hope?
ANNA: I—no. I haven’t been able to get to that stage. Yet.
THE LITTLE DUTCH BOY AT AGE 50: But the Dreamer held. And finally there came wagons with men from the village, holding lanterns and sand and straw. And they found me there, strung up by my thumb, beside the big black letters: Mijnheer Van Doorn is een gas-passer. And they freed me and said I was a hero, and I became the boy who held back the sea with his thumb.
ANNA: Golly. You were very brave.
THE LITTLE DUTCH BOY AT AGE 50: I was stupid. Wrong place, wrong time.
ANNA: How long ago did this happen?
THE LITTLE DUTCH BOY AT AGE 50 (Sadly): Let us just say it happened a long time ago.
ANNA: You’ve faced death. I wish my brother were here to meet you.
THE LITTLE DUTCH BOY AT AGE 50: Where is he? Wo ist dein bruder?
ANNA: Oh, he stayed in Amsterdam to see the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum.
THE LITTLE DUTCH BOY AT AGE 50: And you did not go? You should see them, they are really fantastic.
ANNA: Why? What’s the use? I won’t remember them, I’ll have no memory.
THE LITTLE DUTCH BOY AT AGE 50: So you are an American?
ANNA: Yes.
THE LITTLE DUTCH BOY AT AGE 50: So do you want to sleep with me? All the women toeristen want to sleep with the little Dutch boy who put his thumb in the dyke.
ANNA: Do you mind so much?
THE LITTLE DUTCH BOY AT AGE 50 (Shrugs): Nee. It’s a way to make a living, is it niet?
ANNA (Quietly): Let’s go then.
XVII.
CARL: Répétez. En français. Where is my brother going? Où va mon frère? Bien.
ANNA: I had just returned from my day trip and left the Centraal Station. The sun sparkled on the waters of the canal, and I decided to walk back to the hotel. Just then I saw my brother.
(Carl enters in a trench coat, sunglasses, holding the stuffed rabbit.)
ANNA: I tried to catch up with Carl, dodging bicycles and pedestrians. And then, crossing the Amstel on the Magere Brug, he appeared.
(The Third Man enters, in a trench coat, sunglasses, and with black gloves, holding a stuffed rabbit.)
ANNA: I trailed them from a discrete distance.
(The Third Man and Carl walk rapidly, not glancing at each other. Carl stops; The Third Man stops a few paces behind. Carl walks; The Third Man walks. Carl stops; The Third Man stops. Finally, they face each other and meet. Quickly, looking surreptitiously around, Carl and The Third Man stroke each other’s stuffed rabbits. They quickly part and walk off in opposite directions.
Anna rushes to center stage, looking in both directions.)
ANNA: I tried to follow the man in the trench coat, and crossed behind him over the Amstel, but I lost sight of him in the crowd of men wearing trench coats and sunglasses.
I want some answers from my brother. Whatever trouble he’s in, he has to share it with me. I want some answers back at the hotel. He’s going to talk.
XVIII.
CARL: Questions sur le dialogue. You must learn. Sie müssen lernen.
(Anna enters the empty hotel room. On the bed, propped up on pillows, lies a stuffed rabbit.)
ANNA: Carl? Carl? Are you back? Carl?
(Anna stops and looks at the stuffed rabbit.)
CARL (From the side): You were not permitted to play with dolls; dolls are for girls. You played with your sister’s dolls until your parents found out. They gave you a stuffed animal—a thin line was drawn. Rabbits were an acceptable surrogate for little boys. You named him Jo-Jo.
You could not sleep without him. Jo-Jo traveled with you to the seashore, to the hotel in New York City when you were seven, to your first summer camp.
He did not have the flaxen plastic hair of your sister’s Betsey-Wetsy, but he had long, furry ears, soft white on one side, pink satin inside. He let you stroke them. He never betrayed you. He taught you to trust in contact. You will love him always.
ANNA (Moves toward the stuffed rabbit): My brother left you behind, did he? Alone at last. Okay, bunny, now you’re going to talk. I want some answers. What have you got that’s so important?
(Just as Anna reaches for the stuffed rabbit, The Third Man [in trench coat, sunglasses and black gloves] steps out into the room.)
THE THIRD MAN (Threateningly): I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.
(Anna screams in surprise)
Now listen. Where is your brother? I have a message for him. Tell him he’s running out of time. Do you understand?
(Anna, scared, nods)
Good. He’d better not try to dupe us. We’re willing to arrange a swap—his sister for the rabbit. Tell him we’re waiting for him in Vienna. And tell him he’d better bring the rabbit to the other side.
(The Third Man disappears. Anna, shaken, sits on the bed and holds the stuffed rabbit. She strokes it for comfort. Carl enters, in a frenzy. He carries his stuffed rabbit. Anna stares as Carl tosses the decoy rabbit away.)
CARL: Don’t ask me any questions. I can’t tell you what’s happening. Are you able to travel? Good. We have to leave Amsterdam tonight. There’s a train in an hour. We’ll go to Germany. Are you packed?
XIX.
ANNA AND THE THIRD MAN (Simultaneously): Wann fahrt der nächste Zug nach Hamburg?
(German band music swells as Anna and Carl sit in their railroad compartment, side by side. Anna, pale, holds the stuffed rabbit in her lap.)
CARL: Ah, Saxony, Bavaria, the Black Forest, the Rhineland…I love them all. I think perhaps now would be a good time to show the slides.
ANNA: I’m so sorry. I hate it when people do this to me.
CARL: Nonsense. People like to see slides of other people’s trips. These are in no particular order. We’ll only show a few, just to give a taste of the German countryside.
ANNA: Carl took over two hour’s worth of slides.
CARL: If you’ll just dim the lights, please.
(The Third Man wheels in the projector and operates it throughout the travelogue.)
CARL: Well. Bonn’s as good a place to start as anywhere. This is the view from our snug little hotel we stayed in. The gateway to the Rhine, the birthplace of Beethoven and the resting place of Schumann.
(SLIDE: The view of downtown Baltimore from the Ramada Inn near Johns Hopkins Hospital, overlooking the industrial harbor.)
ANNA: Looks a lot like Baltimore to me.
CARL: My sister jests. As you can see in the slide, one night we splurged and stayed in a rather dear inn near the Drachenfels Mountains, where Lord Byron had sported.
(SLIDE: A close-up of the balcony railing looking into the R
amada Inn hotel room.)
ANNA (Deadpan): This is the room I slept in while I stayed with my brother Carl.
(SLIDE: Gutted ruins of inner-city Baltimore near the Jones-Fall Expressway; rubble and obvious urban blight.)
CARL: Alas, poor Köln. Practically wiped out by airplane raids during World War II, and yet, out of this destruction, the cathedral of Köln managed to survive—one of the most beautiful Gothic churches in the world, with a superb altar painted by the master artist of Köln, Stefan Lochner.
(SLIDE: An impoverished storefront church, a black Evangelical sect in Baltimore.)
CARL: Let’s see—what do we have next?
(SLIDE: A Sabrett hotdog cart with its blue and orange umbrella in front of Johns Hopkins Hospital.)
CARL: Oh, yes. Let’s talk about the food. Whereas I snapped mementos of the regal pines of the Black Forest, Anna insisted on taking photos of everything she ate.
ANNA: I can remember things I feel.
CARL: Well, then, let’s talk about the food. Germany has a more robust gustatory outlook than the delicate palate of France. The Germans positively celebrate the pig from snout to tail. I could not convince Anna to sample the Sulperknochen, which is a Rheingau concoction of ears, snout, tail and feet.
ANNA: Ugh.
(SLIDE: A close-up of a vendor placing a hotdog on a bun and lathering it with mustard; there are canned sodas in a wide variety.)
CARL: And of course, everything is washed down with beer.
(SLIDE: Anna sipping a Bud Light.)
ANNA: It was delicious.
CARL: Enough of food. May we talk about culture, sister, dear? Next slide, please.
(SLIDE: The Maryland National Armory; the state penitentiary.)
CARL: Ah, Heidelberg. Dueling scars and castles. Spectacular ruin which serves as the locale for open-air concerts and fireworks…
(SLIDE: The Baltimore smokestack.)
CARL: And by a quaint cable car, you can reach the peak at Königstuhl, 2,000 feet high, with its breathtaking view of the Neckar Valley.
(SLIDE: The Bromo Seltzer tower in Baltimore.)
(SLIDE: The interstate highways viewed from the tower.)
CARL: Every cobblestoned street, every alleyway, was so pristine and clean.
(SLIDE: The rowhouses on Monument Street.)
(SLIDE: A corridor of Johns Hopkins Hospital, outside the basement laboratories.)
