by David French
MARY Get to the point, Father.
JACOB We was that poor I couldn’t afford a ring, so when the Reverend Mr. Price got t’rough with the dearly beloveds and asked for the ring, I reached into my pocket and give him all I had — an old bent nail.
MARY Last time it was a cigar band.
JACOB (still to KATHY) And if you was to ask me today, twenty years later, if it’s been worth it — my dear, my answer would still be the same, for all her many faults — that old rusty nail has brung me more joy and happiness than you can ever imagine. And I wouldn’t trade the old woman here, nor a blessed hair of her head, not for all the gold bullion in the Vatican.
BILL Dad.
JACOB And my name’s not Jerome McKenzie, Q.C., either. And the likes of Ben here may t’ink me just an old fool, not worth a second t’ought —
BEN shoves back his plate, holding back his temper.
—and run me down to my face the first chance he gets —
BEN Ah, shut up.
JACOB — and treat me with no more respect and consideration than you would your own worst enemy! —
BEN Will you grow up! (He knocks over his chair and exits into his bedroom.)
JACOB (shouting after him) — but I’ve always done what I seen fit, and no man can do more! (The door slams — slight pause.) I won’t say another word.
MARY You’ve said enough, brother. (slight pause) What Kathy must t’ink of us! (slight pause) And then you wonders why he’s the way he is, when you sits there brazen-faced and makes him feel like two cents in front of company. You haven’t a grain of sense, you haven’t!
JACOB Did I say a word of a lie? Did I?
MARY No, you always speaks the gospel truth, you do.
JACOB I never could say two words in a row to that one, without he takes offence. Not two bloody words!
MARY collects the supper plates. BILL and KATHY remain seated.
Look. He didn’t finish half his plate. (calling) Come out and eat the rest of your supper, Ben. There’s no food wasted in this house. (slight pause) Take it in to him, Mary.
MARY (picking up BEN’S chair) You — you’re the cause of it. You’re enough to spoil anyone’s appetite.
JACOB Ah, for Christ’s sake, he’s too damn soft, and you don’t help any. I was out fishing on the Labrador when I was ten years old, six months of the year for ten dollars, and out of that ten dollars had to come my rubber boots. (to KATHY) Ten years old, and I had to stand up and take it like a man. (to MARY) That’s a lot tougher than a few harsh words from his father!
MARY (as she serves the dessert) And you’ll make him hard, is that it, Jacob? Hard and tough like yourself? Blame him for all you’ve suffered. Make him pay for all you never had.
JACOB Oh, shut up, Mary, you don’t understand these matters. He won’t have you or me to fall back on once he gets out into the world. He’ll need to be strong or — (He winks at BILL.) — he’ll end up like your cousin Israel.
MARY And don’t tell that story, Jacob. You’re at the table.
JACOB (to KATHY) Israel Parsons was Mrs. Mercer’s first cousin.
MARY Might as well talk to a log.
JACOB He was a law student at the time, and he worked summers at the pulp and paper mill at Corner Brook, cleaning the machines. Well, one noon hour he crawled inside a machine to clean the big sharp blades, and someone flicked on the switch. Poor young Israel was ground up into pulp. They didn’t find a trace of him, did they, Mary? Nor even a hair. Mary’s poor mother always joked that he was the only one of her relatives ever to make the headlines — if you knows what I mean.
MARY She knows. And just what has Israel Parsons got to do with Ben, pray tell?
JACOB Because that’s what the world will do to Ben, Mary, if he’s not strong. Chew him up alive and swallow him down without a trace. Mark my words. (He lifts the bowl to his mouth and drinks the peach juice.)
The front door bursts open.
MINNIE (off) Anybody home?
JACOB Minnie! (He glances at MARY, then rises.)
MINNIE enters. She is in her late forties, boisterous and voluptuous, a little flashily dressed.
MINNIE Is you still eating?
JACOB No, come in, come in.
MINNIE If you is — guess what? — I brung along me new boyfriend to spoil your appetites. . . . Where’s he to? Can’t keep track of the bugger! (She returns to the hallway, and shouts offstage.) For Christ’s sake, you dirty t’ing, you! You might have waited till you got inside!
KATHY (to BILL) What’s she doing here?
MINNIE (off) Come on. There’s no need to be shy.
HAROLD enters with MINNIE. He is conservatively dressed but sports a white carnation.
MINNIE (to HAROLD) That’s Jacob and Mary. This here’s Harold. (They shake hands.)
JACOB Here, give me your coats. (He takes the coats.)
MINNIE T’anks, boy. (to KATHY) Hello, sister! Still mad at me?
KATHY doesn’t answer.
MINNIE (to MARY) Harold works in a funeral parlour. He’s an embalmer. Imagine. We met when poor Willard died. He worked on his corpse.
MARY (incredulously) You made that up, Minnie. Confess.
MINNIE As God is me witness, maid!
JACOB Just so long as you’m not drumming up business, Harold.
HAROLD doesn’t crack a smile.
MINNIE He ain’t got an ounce of humour in his body, Harold. (looking at JACOB) But he’s got two or t’ree pounds of what counts. Don’t you, Lazarus?
KATHY (sharply) Mother!
MINNIE “Mother” yourself. (sitting on arm of chesterfield next to HAROLD) I calls him Lazarus because he comes to life at night. And what a resurrection. Ah, I’m so wicked, Mary. To tell you the truth, I haven’t been exactly mourning since Willard died, as sister over there can testify. And I’ll tell you why. I took a good solid look at Willard — God rest his soul! — stretched out in his casket the t’ree days of his wake, all powdered and rouged and made up like a total stranger, and I says to myself, Minnie, live it up, maid. This is all there is, this life. You’re dead a good long time. (to JACOB) And I for one wouldn’t bet a t’in dime on the hereafter, and God knows I’ve t’rowed hundreds of dollars away on long shots in my day.
JACOB Now, Minnie, enough of the religion. Would you both care for a whiskey? (MARY reacts.)
MINNIE (meaning HAROLD) Look at his ears pick up. Sure, Jake. That’s one of the reasons we come early.
JACOB crosses to the cabinet during MINNIE’S speech and brings out a bottle of whiskey. He pours three drinks.
And Mary, I got to apologize for last night. I suppose I’ll never live it down. I don’t know what happened, maid. I laid down with a drink in me hand after supper and the next t’ing I know it’s this morning and I’m in the doghouse.
MARY That’s okay, Minnie. (She sits.)
JACOB Billy, my son, bring me the ginger ale. That’s a good boy.
During the dialogue BILL fetches the ginger ale from the fridge and returns to the dining-room table.
How do you like your drink, Minnie?
MINNIE A little mix in mine, and not’ing in Harold’s. The ginger ale tickles his nose and gets him all excited.
JACOB What is he, Minnie? Newfie?
MINNIE No, boy — Canadian.
JACOB Harold, there’s only two kinds of people in this world — Newfies and them that wishes they was.
MINNIE That’s what I tells him, boy.
JACOB Why else would Canada have j’ined us in ’49? Right, Minnie? (JACOB crosses to chesterfield with the drinks.)
MARY I t’ought you didn’t have no whiskey? I t’ought all you had in the house was “screech”? Do you mean to tell me that was deliberate, what you put Ben t’rough?
JACOB (quickly changing the subject) Minnie, don’t you want to see the shower gifts?
MINNIE Sure, boy. Where’s they to?
JACOB They’re in the bedroom. Show her, Mary. Now’s a good time.
; MARY rises and crosses to the bedroom door. MINNIE follows.
MINNIE (indicating HAROLD) Don’t give him any more to drink, Jacob, till I gets back. The bugger likes to get a head start.
They exit.
MINNIE (off) Maid, will you look! A gift shop! Jesus!
JACOB (slight pause — to HAROLD, embarrassed) Well.
HAROLD nods. They drink.
MINNIE (off) Even a rolling pin! (She pokes out her head.) My Jesus, Harold, I finally found somet’ing that compares!
JACOB glances at HAROLD. HAROLD glances at JACOB. They drink.
JACOB (after a moment) Grand old day.
HAROLD nods. Silence.
JACOB (after a moment) Couldn’t ask for better.
HAROLD nods. Silence.
JACOB (after a moment) Another grand day tomorrow.
HAROLD clears his throat.
JACOB Pardon?
HAROLD shakes his head. Silence.
JACOB (embarrassed) Well, why don’t we see what mischief the women are up to?
HAROLD nods. With visible relief both men exit together.
BILL Tomorrow’s off! We’ve got to tell them, Kathy! And right now!
KATHY We don’t have to call it off.
BILL What do you mean?
KATHY You know what I mean.
BILL You mean you’d get married without having to?
KATHY I work, you know. I’ll be getting a raise in two months, and another six months after that. I’ll be making good money by the time you get into university. I could help put you through. (slight pause) I wouldn’t be in the way. (slight pause) Billy? Don’t you even care for me?
BILL Sure.
KATHY How much?
Enter HAROLD. During the dialogue he helps himself to another drink from the dining room and crosses to the chesterfield.
BILL A lot. But I still don’t want to get married. I’m not ready. We’re too young. Christ, you can’t even cook!
KATHY And you’re just a mama’s boy!
HAROLD is now seated. KATHY stares at him a moment. Then she smiles.
KATHY Well, Harold wants me, even if you don’t. Don’t you, Harold? (She rises and crosses to the chesterfield, flaunting herself.)
BILL Kathy!
KATHY (to HAROLD) I’ve seen the way you look at me. (She drops on the chesterfield beside HAROLD.) You’d like to hop in the sack with me, wouldn’t you? Tell the truth.
BILL Why are you doing this?
KATHY You think he’s any different than you?
BILL What do you mean?
KATHY This make you jealous, Billy? (She caresses the inside of HAROLD’S thigh.)
BILL (grabbing her by the wrist) I don’t understand you, Kathy.
KATHY I understand you, Billy. Only too well. Poor trapped Billy.
BILL I’m not trapped.
KATHY Aren’t you?
BILL No! I’ll call it off!
KATHY Yes! Why don’t you?
BILL I will!
KATHY I wouldn’t want you to waste your life. I’ll bet now you wished you’d never met me, don’t you? You wish you’d never touched me. All this trouble because you didn’t have the nerve to go to the drugstore!
BILL Well, why did you let me do it if it wasn’t a safe time? Answer me that!
Enter MINNIE, JACOB, and MARY.
MINNIE Well, kids, you’re well off now. More than we got when we started out, heh, Mary? Willard and me didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to t’row it out. (to JACOB, as she sits) Where’s your eldest? I ain’t met him yet.
JACOB Ben? Oh, he’s in his bedroom — (He glances at MARY who is now sitting in the armchair.) — studying. He’s in university, Minnie. (He calls to BEN’S door.) Ben, come out. (slight pause) And bring your diploma. (He glances sheepishly at MARY and looks away. MARY shakes her head, amused.)
Enter BEN, dressed in a sport jacket. He carries his rolled-up diploma tied with a ribbon.
Graduated from Grade T’irteen last night, Minnie. That’s Ben. Ben, this is Mrs. Jackson, and that’s Harold.
They all nod hello.
MINNIE (appraising BEN with obvious delight) So this is the best man, heh? Well. Well, well, well. What a fine-looking boy, Jacob. He’ll be tall.
JACOB A little too t’in, Minnie. And not much colour to his face.
MINNIE What odds? You was a skeleton yourself at his age. Tell you what, Ben. Be over some Saturday night and give you a scrubbing down in the tub. We’ll send your father and mother to the pictures. (to MARY) Oh, how wicked, maid. Don’t mind me, I’ve got the dirtiest tongue. The t’ings I comes out with. That’s what comes of hanging around racetracks and taverns with the likes of the Formaldehyde Kid here. (slight pause) You looks like your mother’s side of the family, Ben.
JACOB I kind of t’ought he looked like my side. (to BEN) Show Minnie your diploma.
BEN hands the diploma to MINNIE.
MINNIE (to BEN) Proud father.
BEN (to JACOB) I thought you didn’t have any whiskey?
JACOB (ignoring BEN and glancing over MINNIE’S shoulder as she reads the diploma) He got honours all the way t’rough high school, Minnie. He got a scholarship.
MINNIE Where’d he get his brains to? (embarrassed silence — to BEN) Told you you look like your mother’s side. (She hands back the diploma, rises, and hands her glass to JACOB.) Next round less ginger ale, Jacob. Gives me gas. (crossing to the record player) And I’d hate to start cracking off around Father Douglas. (She puts on a record — “Moonglow” theme from “Picnic.”) What a face he’s got on him, already, the priest. Pinched little mouth. You’d t’ink he just opened the Song of Solomon and found a fart pressed between the pages like a rose. (She starts to move slowly to the music.)
KATHY Mother, do you have to?
MINNIE Do I have to what, sister?
KATHY Make a fool of yourself.
MINNIE Listen to who’s talking! (slight pause) I’d dance with Harold except the only tune he knows is the Death March. And the only step he knows is the foxtrot. Imagine foxtrotting to the Death March. (to JACOB) Jacob, you was a one for dancing years ago. Wasn’t he, Mary?
MARY He still is, Minnie.
MINNIE Did he ever tell you how I first got to go out with him?
MARY I don’t believe he did.
MINNIE He didn’t? Well, remember Georgie Bishop? He took me out one night — to a dance at Bay Roberts. It was in the wintertime, and cold as a nun’s tit. I saw Jacob there, hanging about, and now and then he’d look my way and I’d wink. Oh, I was some brazen.
JACOB I t’ought you had somet’ing in your eye, Minnie.
MINNIE Yes, boy, the same as was in yours — the devil! . . . To make a long story short, Mary, when it come time to go home, Georgie and me went outside where his horse and sled was hitched to the post. He’d tied it fast with a knot, and do you know what this bugger had gone and done?
JACOB Now don’t tell that, Minnie.
MINNIE Pissed on the knot! He had, maid. A ball of ice as big as me fist. And who do you suppose walks up large as life and offers to drive me home in his sled? (pause) Poor Georgie. The last I remembers of him he was cursing the dirty son-of-a-bitch that had done it and was stabbing away at the knot with his jack-knife! (She notices BEN’S amused reaction to her story.) Come dance with me, Ben. Don’t be shy. Come on. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve got the devil in your eye, too. Just like your father. (She puts BEN’S arm around her waist and they dance.) Look, Harold. You might learn a t’ing or two. (She presses close against BEN.) Mmm. You know, Jacob, this is no longer a little boy. He’s coming of age.
KATHY Mother, you’re dirty.
MINNIE How fast you’ve grown, Ben. How tall and straight. Do you want to hear a funny one? I could have been your mother. Imagine. But your grandfather — Jacob’s father — put his foot down. I was a Catholic, and that was that in no uncertain terms. Wasn’t it, Jacob? (slight pause) So I married Willard.. . .
They break apart.
/> MINNIE (to JACOB, as she sits) Ah well, boy, I suppose it all worked out for the best. Just t’ink, Jacob — if you had married me it might have been you Harold pumped full of fluids.
JACOB That it might, Minnie. That it might.
MINNIE But you can’t help marvel at the way t’ings work out. Makes you wonder sometimes.
JACOB (turns off music) What’s that, Minnie?
MINNIE (slyly) Your son marrying my daughter and turning Catholic in the bargain. Serves you right, you old bugger. The last laugh’s on you. And your poor old father.
JACOB You’m not still carrying that grudge around inside you, is you? I’m getting a fine girl in the family. That’s the way I looks at it.
MINNIE (rising to help herself to another drink) I don’t mind telling you, Jacob, I’ve had my hands full with that one. Not a moment’s peace since the day poor Willard died. She was kind of stuck on her father, you know. Jesus, boy, she won’t even speak to Harold. Won’t let him give her away tomorrow, will you, sister? Her uncle’s doing that. Oh, she snaps me head off if I as much as makes a suggestion. T’inks she knows it all. And now look. All I can say is I’m glad her father ain’t alive, this night.
