STEVIE
(To help) Just go to your room, Billy, or go outside, or …
MARTIN
… or go to one of your public urinals, or one of those death clubs, or …
BILLY
KNOCK IT OFF!!
MARTIN
(Impressed) Wow!
BILLY
(Sneering) You seem to know a lot about all that.
MARTIN
(Not defensive) I read.
BILLY
Sure. (To STEVIE) I’ll go if you think it’s OK, Ma; I’ll go. (To MARTIN) But not to your … “places.” I will probably go to my room, and I’ll probably close my door, and I’ll probably lie down on my bed, and I’ll probably start crying and it’ll probably get louder and worse, but you probably won’t hear it—either of you—because you’ll be too busy killing each other. But I’ll be there, and my little eight-year-old heart will for certain be breaking—in twain, as they say.
MARTIN
(Some awe; no contempt) Very good; very good.
STEVIE
(Preoccupied) Yes; very good, Billy.
BILLY
(Fleeing; near tears) Jesus Christ!
STEVIE
(As he exits) Billy …
MARTIN
(Quietly) Let him go. (Silence; quietly) Well, now; just you and me.
STEVIE
(Pause) Yes.
MARTIN
(Pause) I take it you want to talk about it?
STEVIE
(Awful chuckle) Oh, God! (Afterthought) You take it?
MARTIN
Is that a “yes”?
STEVIE
(Cold; precise) I was out shopping today—dress gloves, if you want to know. I still wear them—for weddings and things …
MARTIN
(Puzzled) Who’s getting married?
STEVIE
(Huge) SHUT UP!
MARTIN
(Winces) Sorry.
STEVIE
(Normal tone again) … dress gloves, and then to the fish people for shad roe—it’s just come in—and then back home, and you were gone and I heard Billy’s music up in his room and there was the mail. You’d gone out before it came—not that it would have mattered: we don’t read each other’s.
MARTIN
Would that we did.
STEVIE
Oh? I would have found out sooner or later. And there was Ross’s letter. “Ross? Writing to me? Whatever for!”
MARTIN
(Softly) Oh, God.
STEVIE
… and I was standing in the pantry. I’d put the roe away and had left the kitchen and was moving to the dining room on my way to the stairs when I began to read it.
MARTIN
Ross shouldn’t have done this. He knows he shouldn’t have done …
STEVIE
(Reading; steady, almost amused) “Dearest Stevie …”
MARTIN
Oh, God.
STEVIE
“This is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write.”
MARTIN
Sure!
STEVIE
You doubt it? “… the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write, and to my dearest friends. But because I love you, Stevie, as much as I love Martin, because I love you both—respect you, love you—I can’t stay silent at a time of crisis for you both, for Martin’s public image and your own deeply devoted …”
MARTIN
As I said, bullshit.
STEVIE
… “self. I must put it baldly, for hinting would only put off the inevitable. Martin—and he told me this himself” … (aside) I would have liked to have been listening to that conversation!
MARTIN
No you wouldn’t.
STEVIE
(Reading again) “Martin is having an affair with a certain Sylvia …” (To MARTIN) Oh, God, I thought; at least it’s someone I don’t know; at least it’s not Ross’s first wife, the one I thought you might if you were going to …
MARTIN
(Surprise) Rebecca?
STEVIE
Yes, or maybe your new assistant …
MARTIN
(Bewildered) Who? Ted Ryan?
STEVIE
No; the other one—the one with the hooters.
MARTIN
Oh; Lucy something.
STEVIE
Yes: Lucy “something.” You men are the end. Where was I? (reads again) … “an affair with a certain Sylvia who, I am mortified to tell you … is a goat. You will, of course, be shocked and greatly disturbed to know of this, but I felt it my obligation to be the one to bear these tidings, as I’m sure you’d rather hear it from a dear friend. Doubtless, Martin …” Doubtless?
MARTIN
(Shrugs) Sounds right.
STEVIE
“Doubtless, Martin will tell you all I have not … all I cannot. With profound affection for you both, Ross.” (Pause) Well.
MARTIN
Yes. “Well.”
STEVIE
(Not eager; dogged) We will now discuss it.
MARTIN
(Heavy sigh) Of course, though you won’t understand.
STEVIE
Oh? Do you know what I thought—what I thought after I’d read the letter, right to the end?
MARTIN
No, I don’t want to know … or guess.
STEVIE
Well, I laughed, of course: a grim joke but an awfully funny one. “That Ross, I tell you, that Ross! You go too far, Ross. It’s funny … in its … awful way, but it’s way overboard, Ross!” So, I shook my head and laughed—at the awfulness of it, the absurdity, the awfulness; some things are so awful you have to laugh—and then I listened to myself laughing, and I began to wonder why I was—laughing. “It’s not funny when you come right down to it, Ross” Why was I laughing? And just like that (snaps her fingers) I stopped; I stopped laughing. I realized—probably in the way if you suddenly fell off a building—oh, shit! I’ve fallen off a building and I’m going to die; I’m going to go splat on the sidewalk; like that—that it wasn’t a joke at all; it was awful and absurd, but it wasn’t a joke. And everything tied in—Ross coming here to interview you yesterday, the funny smell, the Noel Coward bit we did about you having an affair, and with a goat. You said it right out and I laughed. You told me! You came right out and fucking told me, and I laughed, and I made jokes about going to the feed store, and I laughed. I fucking laughed! Until it stopped; until the laughter stopped. Until it all came together—Ross’s letter and all the rest: that odd smell … the mistress’s perfume on you. And so I knew.
MARTIN
Stevie, I’m so …
STEVIE
Shut up. And so I knew. And next, of course, came believing it. Knowing it—knowing it’s true is one thing, but believing what you know … well, there’s the tough part. We all prepare for jolts along the way, disturbances of the peace, the lies, the evasions, the infidelities—if they happen. (Very off-hand) I’ve never had an affair, by the way, all our years together; not even with a cat, or … anything.
MARTIN
Oh, Stevie …
STEVIE
We prepare for … things, for lessenings, even; inevitable … lessenings, and we think we can handle everything, whatever comes along, but we don’t know, do we! (Right at MARTIN) Do we!
MARTIN
(Bereaved) No; no, we don’t.
STEVIE
Fucking right we don’t! (Didactic) Something can happen that’s outside the rules, that doesn’t relate to The Way the Game Is Played. Death before you’re ready to even think about it—that’s part of the game. A stroke that leaves you sitting looking at an eggplant the week before had been your husband—that’s another. Emotional disengagement, gradual, so gradual you don’t know it’s happening, or sudden—not very often, but occasionally—that’s another. You’ve read about spouses—God! I hate that word!—“spouses” who all of a sudden start wearing dresses—yours, or their own collection —wives gon
e dyke … but if there’s one thing you don’t put on your plate, no matter how exotic your tastes may be is … bestiality.
MARTIN
Don’t! You don’t understand.
STEVIE
The fucking of animals! No, that’s one thing you haven’t thought about, one thing you’ve overlooked as a byway on the road of life, as the old soap has it. “Well, I wonder when he’ll start cruising livestock. I must ask Mother whether Dad did it and how she handled it.” No, that’s the one thing you haven’t thought about—nor could you conceive of. (Pause; grimly cheerful) So! How was your day?
MARTIN
(Pause; attempting the casual) Well … I had a good day at the office. Made the design for The World City even larger than …
STEVIE
(Fixed smile) Oh, good!
MARTIN
… and then I stopped by the haberdasher …
STEVIE
(Pretending to puzzle) Ha-ber-dash-er. That’s someone who makes haberdash?
MARTIN
Haber, I think. Dash is part of doing it.
STEVIE
Ah! Then what?
MARTIN
Hm? Well, then I drove back home, and …
STEVIE
What! You didn’t stop by to see your ladyfriend? Get a lick in?
MARTIN
She’s in the country. Please, Stevie … don’t!
STEVIE
(Feigned wonder) She’s in the country!
MARTIN
I keep her there.
STEVIE
Where!?
MARTIN
Please! Don’t!
STEVIE
Martin, did you ever think you’d come back from your splendid life, walk into your living room and find you had no life left?
MARTIN
Not specifically; no. (Looks down)
STEVIE
I think we’d better talk about this. If I’m going to kill you I need to know exactly why—all the details.
MARTIN
(Shy) You really want to?
STEVIE
What? Kill you?
MARTIN
No; learn about it.
STEVIE
(Big) No! I don’t really want to! (Normal tone again) I want the whole day to rewind—start over. I want the reel to reverse: to see the mail on the hall table where Billy’s left it, then not see it because I haven’t opened the door yet—not having gotten the fish yet because I haven’t bought the gloves yet because I haven’t left the house yet because I haven’t gotten out of our bed because I haven’t waked UP YET!! (Quieter) But … since I can’t reverse time … yes, I do want to know. I’m reeling with it. (Pleading) Make me not believe it! Please, make me not believe it.
MARTIN
(Pause) Why aren’t you crying?
STEVIE
Because this is too serious. Do goats cry, by the way?
MARTIN
I … I don’t know. I haven’t …
STEVIE
… made her cry yet!? What’s the matter with you?!
MARTIN
(Begging) Stevie …
STEVIE
(As if to someone else) He can’t even make a goat cry. What good is he? His son’s probably weeping as we speak. That was pretty awful what you said to him, Martin, pretty awful. His son’s probably lying on his bed, tears flowing; his wife would be crying (harder) except she can’t be that weak right now. And you can’t even make a goat cry?! Jeez!
MARTIN
(Dogmatic) I didn’t say I couldn’t; I said I haven’t.
STEVIE
Well, the goats of this world must be very happy. Oh, you kid!
MARTIN
(Starting to leave) I can’t have this conversation. I can’t listen to you when you’re …
STEVIE
(Blocking him) You stay where you are! You will have this conversation, and with me and right now!
MARTIN
(Retreating; sighing) Where shall I start?
STEVIE
(A threat) Right at the beginning! (Afterthought) Why do you call her Sylvia, by the way? Did she have a tag, or something? Or, was it more:
Who is Sylvia,
Fair is she
That all our goats commend her …
MARTIN
(Trying to be rational) No, it just seemed right. Very good, by the way.
STEVIE
Thank you. You saw this … thing … this goat, and you said to yourself “This is Sylvia.” Or did you talk to it: “Hello, Sylvia.” How the hell did you know it was a she—was a female? Bag of nipples dragging in the dung? Or, isn’t this your first?!
MARTIN
(Very quiet) She is my first; she is my only. But you don’t understand. You …
STEVIE
(Contemptuous) Awww; I’m trying not to throw up.
MARTIN
Well, if that’s the way you …
STEVIE
No!! Tell me.
MARTIN
(Sighs) All right. As I said to Ross …
STEVIE
(Broad parody) “As I said to Ross …” NO! Not “As I said to Ross.” To me! As you say to me!
MARTIN
(Annoyed) In any event …
STEVIE
Not “in any event!” No! This event!
MARTIN
(Won’t let it go) As I said to Ross …
STEVIE
(Impatient acquiescence) Very well; as you said to Ross.
MARTIN
Thank you. As I said to Ross, I’d gone to the country … to find the place we wanted, our … country place.
STEVIE
(Fact) You went out a lot.
MARTIN
Well, if you’re after Utopia … (Shrugs)
STEVIE
Sure.
MARTIN
… unless you’re one of those people finds it right off: “That’s it; that’s the place.” Unless you’re one of those, you’ve got to search; look around. Close enough in to make it practical for our country needs. No more than an hour or so from …
STEVIE
(Scoffing) Our “country needs”?
MARTIN
You’re the one who said it. Verdancy: flowers and green leaves against steel and stone. OK?
STEVIE
(Shrugs) OK. (Angry) And it’s lovely. Now get to the goat!
MARTIN
I’m getting there. I’m getting to her.
STEVIE
Stop calling it her!
MARTIN
(Defending) That is what she is! It is a she! She is a she!
STEVIE
(Pathetic sneer) I suppose I should be grateful it wasn’t a male, isn’t a male goat.
MARTIN
Funny you should ask—as they say. There was a place I went to …
STEVIE
Oh?
MARTIN
Well, when I realized something was wrong. I mean, when I realized people would think something was wrong, that what I was doing wasn’t …
STEVIE
(Dispassionate) I am going to kill you.
MARTIN
(Preoccupied) Yes; probably. It was a therapy place, a place people went to … to talk about it, about what they were doing … and with whom.
STEVIE
What! Not whom! What! With what!
MARTIN
(Sharp) Whatever! A place! Please! Let me finish this! (STEVIE is silent) A place to talk about it; like AA, like Alcoholics Anonymous.
STEVIE
(Sneers) Goat-fuckers Anonymous?
MARTIN
(Oddly shocked) Please! (STEVIE hoots. Quieter) Please?
STEVIE
Sorry. Destroy me.
MARTIN
It had no cute name; no AA; no … no nothing. Just … a place.
STEVIE
How did you find it?
MARTIN
Online.
STEVIE
(Toneless) Of course.
MAR
TIN
I went there … and there were—what?—ten of us … a group leader, of course.
STEVIE
What was he fucking? Who; sorry.
MARTIN
He was cured, he said—odd phrase. Was off it.
STEVIE
(Very calm) Very well. What had he been fucking?
MARTIN
(Matter of fact) A pig. A young pig.
(STEVIE rises, finds a big ceramic table plate, smashes it, resits, or whatever)
STEVIE
(Without emotion) Go on.
MARTIN
(Indicates) Is there going to be a lot of that?
STEVIE
Probably.
MARTIN
You don’t want Billy down here; some things …
STEVIE
(Steaming) Some things are … what?! Private? Sacred? Husband telling wifey about a very peculiar therapy session? A pig?!
MARTIN
(A little embarrassed) A small one, he said.
STEVIE
Jesus!
(BILLY rushes in from the hall)
BILLY
You two OK?
MARTIN
Yes-we’re-fine-go-away-Billy.
BILLY
Who’s throwing things?
STEVIE
I am; your mother is throwing things.
BILLY
Is there going to be more?
STEVIE
I imagine so.
BILLY
(Retrieving a small vase) I gave you this one; I think I’ll take it upstairs.
STEVIE
(As BILLY turns to go) I would have noticed, Billy.
BILLY