When Rumpopo and the children are doing one of their magical scenes, the one where the feather becomes an emerald table, Leo steals a glance at the audience. They are entranced; they love the emerald table.
Leo dares to look for his family. They are caught up in the play, all of them leaning forward, watching. And then Leo sees that Papa and Grandma and Grandpa Navy are gripping one another’s hands, staring intently at the stage. Leo wonders if Rumpopo’s sister reminds them of Rosaria, and he is afraid that it will be too much for Grandma, and that she will rush from the room, unable to bear it. But then he has to turn away from his family, because the donkey is talking to him, and it is Leo’s turn, and he is swallowed up in the play again. He does not have a chance to check on Grandma Navy until the very end of the scene.
She is sitting very straight in her chair, and both her hands are pressed to her mouth, but she does not look sad, as Leo expected. She looks as if she is seeing something miraculous, something amazing and puzzling and intriguing.
On they zoom to the end, and the actors finally get into their stride, and they do not make mistakes, and just when they are at their very best, Leo feels the play rushing to its close, and before he knows it, they are all gathered on Rumpopo’s porch, and Rumpopo speaks:
RUMPOPO:
Thank you, one and all. I feel like a young lad again!
And Leo can hardly stand it, that the play is almost over. He says his line, the last line:
OLD CRONE:
Maybe tomorrow you will all come to my banan—no! No! I mean porch! Maybe tomorrow you will all come to my porch?
Leo is so mortified that he almost glurted out that terrible banana, that something comes over him, and instead of simply standing there until the lights go down, as they have rehearsed, Leo ends by leaping off the porch and throwing his arms wide, and doing a little tap dance, a very little one, just a few short steps, which don’t sound like tapping because there are no taps on his shoes.
The lights dim, the curtain closes, and Leo sees Mr. Beeber on the sidelines, giving him a puzzled look, but then he nods at Leo, as if he forgives him for his almost-banana and for his strange little dance. Then the curtain is opening again, and they are doing their bows, and the audience is clapping, and Leo sees his family applauding like mad, and he hears, amid all the other noise, “Bravo, bravo, Leo!” and he sees Papa and Mom and Grandma and Grandpa, and they are smiling, and they look proud.
When someone shouts “Author! Author!” Mr. Beeber blushes and steps forward. Melanie hands him a bouquet of flowers. Mr. Beeber bows and gestures toward the cast, and again the audience erupts in applause and cheers.
Leo does not want to leave the stage. He wants the audience to keep applauding and his family to keep shouting “Bravo!” and Papa and Mom and Grandma and Grandpa to keep smiling.
THE NEWS
In the lobby afterward, Leo’s family swarms around him. “Bravo, Leo, bravo!” His papa ruffles his hair; his mom kisses him. Even cousin Tina says, “Cool. It was cool. My favorite part was the golden palace and the talking donkey. You were good, too.”
Pietro punches Leo softly in the arm. “Yeah, you were good.”
Nunzio wraps his arms around Leo. “You were the betht! The betht one!”
Contento hands him a card, which she has decorated with red flowers. The envelope says FOR MY BROTHER, THE ACTOR. “Cool old crone,” she says.
Grandma and Grandpa Navy are beaming. “It was molto good!” Grandma Navy says, and Grandpa nods in agreement. Grandma leans toward Leo and whispers in his ear. “I have some news for you.”
Leo sees Ruby standing with her parents. “Just a minute, Grandma,” he says, and he goes to Ruby. “You okay?”
She smiles, but her eyes are brimming, as if she will burst into tears. “I’m fine,” she says. “It was fun.”
“Want to come over tomorrow? I mean, my house is kind of crazy, but—”
“Sure, Leo. I’ll come.” She places her arm on his sleeve. “Thanks.”
When Leo returns to his family, Grandma pulls him aside. “I’m telling you first. Well, Grandpa knows, and your papa knows, and Carmella, but I’m telling you first before all the others.”
There is commotion all around as families call to one another and search for coats and begin to stream out of the building. Leo strains to hear his grandma. And suddenly he knows what she is going to say. “Rosaria?” he says. “Is it about Rosaria?”
“Yes!” Grandma beams. “You know I told you about Carmella’s friend’s brother’s wife seeing Rosaria and about the child—”
“Yes, yes, and—?”
“Well, you know after we were looking at those pictures? And you were asking about her? Well, I had to do something. So I called Carmella, who called her friend, who called her brother—”
“Grandma! What happened?”
“I get the phone number. Of Rosaria. The new phone number. I call. I get an answering machine! You imagine? An answering machine! Not even with her voice, with some man’s voice—”
“Grandma! Did you leave a message?”
“Well, no—”
“No? You didn’t leave a message? Grandma—”
“Not the first time. But then I called back and I told the answering machine who I was—I said I was an old grandma who wanted to see her Rosaria and her child—my grandchild. That’s what I said. I said I have a lot of grandchildren, but you can never have too many grandchildren, and that child needs to know his grandma. That’s what I said.”
“And? Did she call back?”
“What? Oh. No. Not yet.” Grandma’s hands flutter in the air. “But I left that message. Maybe she will answer it?”
Leo glances toward the door as Ruby and her parents leave. He wishes Ruby could leave a message for her brother.
When Leo turns and sees Papa at his side, he wonders if Papa will ever talk to Rosaria, if he will ever see her again. How happy Papa would be to see her!
Papa clears his throat and leans down, looking Leo in the eye. “You were good,” Papa says, “really good.”
For Leo, this is like hearing he’s won ten Nobel Prizes, and he wants to say something, but the words are all jumbled in his head.
His papa pats his shoulder. “You know, I used to do plays—with—with—with Rosaria.”
Leo nods. He feels as if his father has given him a golden nugget. He touches his papa’s arm. “That’s cool, Papa.”
And then there is a rush of people waving and streaming out the door, and Leo’s family piles in the car. Nunzio leans his head on Leo’s shoulder and whispers, “You didn’t even glurt!”
FINALE:
WHAT WE DID TODAY
It is Sunday, and already everyone is rushing around because the relatives are coming. Leo is groggy. Last night after the play, as he lay in bed, his mind was swirling with images of Ruby and Johnny, and of his grandma’s hands fluttering in the air over Rosaria, and his papa smiling, and the audience’s laughter, and his family shouting “Bravo!” He replayed Rumpopo’s Porch in his mind, from start to finish, going through everyone’s lines, remembering how it happened in the real play, and then changing the goofs so that it played perfectly.
In his dreams, he was in the play again, but everyone was all jumbled up. Papa was playing the part of Rumpopo, and Rosaria was there, too, with her little white dog. At the end of the play, his papa said, “Thank you. I feel like a young lad again,” and hundreds of emeralds rained down from the sky.
This morning, at breakfast, Pietro says to Nunzio, “You know, the donkey came to see the old crone yesterday.”
Nunzio stops, midbite, and says, “Really? The donkey? From the play?”
“Yep,” says Pietro. “That’s the one.”
“She’s coming over today, too,” Leo says.
Contento holds her fork like a microphone. “Announcement. Announcement, please. The old crone has an admirer.”
“Huh,” Leo says. He turns to Papa. He wants to say something ab
out Rosaria, but before he can form the words, his mom says, “Aye yie yie! Sardine-o, come wash this pan. Contento, iron that tablecloth. Nunzio, where are your shoes?”
At the sink, Leo imagines a story: Leonardo’s Porch. A boy, Leo, will be standing there at the beginning—but while Leo is imagining this, he is again interrupted, this time by Papa. “Leo? Can you come with me a minute?”
Leo figures Papa wants him to do another chore, so he finishes washing the pan and follows him, grumbling in his head about the writer being interrupted in the middle of Great Ideas. When Papa starts up the attic stairs, Leo worries that Papa has found out that Leo has been in his things and tapping in his shoes and reading his Autobiography, Age of Thirteen, and Leo is afraid that Papa will be extremely angry.
Sure enough, Papa searches through the boxes and locates the one with his things in it. Papa rummages through the box, finds the tap shoes, and hands them to Leo.
PAPA:
Would you like these?
LEO:
What? Me? But I thought—they’re yours—
PAPA:
It’s okay. You have them.
Leo puts on the shoes as Papa continues to rummage through the box.
PAPA:
Leo? I don’t know if this would interest you—
Papa stands there, holding the blue book, Autobiography, Age of Thirteen, in his hands.
LEO:
But if it’s yours—
PAPA:
It’s a little book I wrote when I was about your age. You like stories. It might interest you. Maybe not . . .
Leo takes the book from him. He feels honored that his father trusts him with his book, but he also feels bad that he can’t tell Papa the truth, that he has already read it.
Papa is about to close the box when he sees something and digs to the bottom. He retrieves a straggly red bear, stares at it, and then presses it to his chest. “Chili Bear,” he says. “It was Rosaria’s.” He carries it with him as he starts down the steps. “Well,” he adds, “I’d better go fix that toilet. . . .”
Leo wants to call him back and thank him, and he wants to ask how he felt when Rosaria left and how he feels now, and he wants to ask him about all those long-ago dreams and goals, and a million things Leo wants to ask him, but instead he starts tapping. He can’t help it, off he goes, feeling so full of his family and the play, as if he is standing on the porch of his life, like his father stands in that last photo in his book.
At the foot of the stairs he hears:
PIETRO:
What’s that racket up there?
PAPA:
Zitti! It’s Leo. Leave him alone. He’s just trying to grow up.
The Curtain Closes. . .
If you want to read or perform the play . . .
RUMPOPO’S PORCH
BY BILL BEEBER
THE CAST
Rumpopo, an old man
Lucia, a young girl
Pahchay, a young boy
Lucia and Pahchay’s Dog
Young Rumpopo (played by Pahchay)
Sola, Rumpopo’s sister (played by Lucia)
Wonder, Rumpopo and Sola’s dog (played by Lucia and Pahchay’s Dog)
Villagers
Old Crone
Donkey
SCENE 1
At center stage is the exterior of a tumbledown cabin with a porch. Trees surrounding, one of which is hollow. As the curtain opens, old Rumpopo is standing on the porch, facing audience, talking to himself.
Rumpopo:
Aye, my bones ache. My life is empty. It is over. What use is there for an old man like me?
(Enter the children, Lucia and Pahchay, and their dog. They look worn and bedraggled.)
Rumpopo:
Who’s there? What do you want?
Lucia:
Pardon, kind sir, but we are two abandoned children who have traveled long and far, and we have lost our way. May we rest here a moment?
Rumpopo:
I’m an old man. There’s nothing here for you.
Pahchay:
Pardon, kind sir, but do you have a cup of water to spare?
Rumpopo:
(grumbling) Water? Oh, I suppose. There’s a well—over there.
Lucia:
I’ll fetch some. Shall I bring some for you, kind sir?
Rumpopo:
(shrugs) If you can manage.
(Lucia and dog go to well. Pahchay follows, picking up pieces of wood as he goes.)
Rumpopo:
(to self) Children! Abandoned! And a dog! I am too old for this.
Lucia:
Have you a cup, kind sir?
Rumpopo:
Over here—on the railing.
Lucia:
Would you like some, kind sir?
Rumpopo:
Yes. (hesitates) But you go first. You look thirsty.
Lucia:
Thank you, kind sir.
Pahchay:
I’ve brought you some wood for your fire. What fine wood there is here. Would you like me to stack it for you, kind sir?
Rumpopo:
Erm, yes, thank you. (hesitates) You don’t need to keep calling me “kind sir.” My name is Rumpopo.
Lucia:
Rumpopo! What a beautiful name, kind sir! I am Lucia, and this is my brother, Pahchay.
Rumpopo:
And you say you are abandoned? And have traveled long and far? And are lost?
Lucia:
Aye, kind—Rumpopo, sir.
Rumpopo:
Your parents? Where are they?
Lucia:
No idea, kind Rumpopo sir.
Rumpopo:
Just Rumpopo. Not “kind,” not “sir,” if you please.
Lucia:
Aye, ki—Rumpopo.
Pahchay:
We have been alone for some time, Rumpopo.
Rumpopo:
Alone? All alone?
Lucia:
Except for our dog, of course.
Rumpopo:
It seems a friendly little dog.
Pahchay:
Oh, he is, Rumpopo sir—
Rumpopo:
No “sir.”
Pahchay:
Yes, Rumpopo. Our dog has kept us safe on many a long and dark night.
Rumpopo:
And where will you go from here?
Lucia:
We’ve no idea, Rumpopo. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to show us the way to a sheltered spot where we might sleep tonight? Are these woods safe, would you say?
Rumpopo:
(troubled) One never knows for sure. My porch might be safer for you.
Lucia:
Oh, Rumpopo! Truly? We could sleep here on your porch?
Rumpopo:
I suppose you could stay the night. Just one night.
Lucia:
Oh, we thank you, kind and noble sir!
Pahchay:
Thank you, most kind and noble Rumpopo, sir!
SCENE 2
The village well. As the scene opens, the villagers and the old crone are gathered stage left, around the well. Some are filling buckets; others are gathered around to join in the gossip. Rumpopo, Lucia, Pahchay, and dog are seen leaving the village stage right.
Villager One:
Who is that old man?
Villager Two:
Where’s he from?
Villager Three:
I heard those children call him something—
Villager Four:
—Rimpo?
Villager Five:
—Rompo?
Villager Six:
—Rappapo?
Old Crone:
Rumpopo.
Villager One:
What’s he up to?
Villager Two:
Aye, what?
Villager Three:
I do not trust him.
Villager Four:
Nor I!
Villager Five:
And who are those children?
&nb
sp; Villager Six:
Aye! Appearing out of nowhere!
Old Crone:
Ah, yes, the wicked children.
Villager One:
Wicked?
Old Crone:
Surely.
Villager Six:
Appearing out of nowhere!
Villager Three:
I do not trust them.
Villager Four:
Nor I!
Villager Two:
They want something!
Villager Five:
Wicked!
SCENE 3
The cabin. Rumpopo, the children, and dog enter from stage left. Lucia is skipping ahead; Pahchay is holding Rumpopo’s hand.
Rumpopo:
I am going to the porch now.
Lucia:
Will you tell us about the green woods again?
Rumpopo:
Aye, Lucia, that I will do, most happily.
Pahchay:
And the young Rumpopo? Will you tell us about him?
Rumpopo:
Aye.
Pahchay:
And your little sister, Sola, too? And the dog?
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