HARRIET: I hardly see her, she lives in Florida.
HYMAN, pressing on: I’d like you to tell me about Sylvia;—before she collapsed, was there any sign of some shock, or anything? Something threatening her?
HARRIET, thinks for a moment, shrugs, shaking her head: Listen, I’ll tell you something funny-to me sometimes she seems ... I was going to say happy, but it’s more like ... I don’t know ... like this is how she wants to be. I mean since the collapse. Don’t you think so?
HYMAN: Well I never really knew her before. What about this fascination with the Nazis—she ever talk to you about that?
HARRIET: Only this last couple of weeks. I don’t understand it, they’re in Germany, how can she be so frightened, it’s across the ocean, isn’t it?
HYMAN: Yes. But in a way it isn’t. He stares, shaking his head, lost.... She’s very sensitive; she really sees the people in those photographs. They’re alive to her.
HARRIET, suddenly near tears: My poor sister!
HYMAN: Tell me about Phillip.
HARRIET: Phillip? Shrugs. Phillip is Phillip.
HYMAN: You like him?
HARRIET: Well he’s my brother-in-law... You mean personally.
HYMAN: Yes.
HARRIET, takes a breath to lie: ... He can be very sweet, you know. But suddenly he’ll turn around and talk to you like you’ve got four legs and long ears. The men—not that they don’t respect him—but they’d just as soon not play cards with him if they can help it.
HYMAN: Really. Why?
HARRIET: Well, God forbid you have an opinion—you open your mouth and he gives you that Republican look down his nose and your brains dry up. Not that I don’t like him ...
HYMAN: How did he and Sylvia meet?
HARRIET: She was head bookkeeper at Empire Steel over there in Long Island City ...
HYMAN: She must have been very young.
HARRIET: ... Twenty; just out of high school practically and she’s head bookkeeper. According to my husband, God gave Sylvia all the brains and the rest of us the big feet! The reason they met was the company took out a mortgage and she had to explain all the accounts to Phillip—he used to say, “I fell in love with her figures!” Hyman laughs. Why should I lie?—personally to me, he’s a little bit a prune. Like he never stops with the whole Jewish part of it.
HYMAN: He doesn’t like being Jewish.
HARRIET: Well yes and no—like Jerome being the only Jewish captain, he’s proud of that. And him being the only one ever worked for Brooklyn Guarantee—he’s proud of that too, but at the same time ...
HYMAN: ...He’d rather not be one.
HARRIET: ...Look, he’s a mystery to me. I don’t understand him and I never will.
HYMAN: What about the marriage? I promise you this is strictly between us.
HARRIET: What can I tell you, the marriage is a marriage.
HYMAN: And?
HARRIET: I shouldn’t talk about it.
HYMAN: It stays in this office. Tell me. They ever break up?
HARRIET: Oh God no! Why should they? He’s a wonderful provider. There’s no Depression for Phillip, you know. And it would kill our mother, she worships Phillip, she’d never outlive it. No-no, it’s out of the question, Sylvia’s not that kind of woman, although... Breaks off.
HYMAN: Come, Harriet, I need to know these things!
HARRIET: ... Well I guess everybody knows it, so ... Takes a breath. I think they came very close to it one time ... when he hit her with the steak.
HYMAN: Hit her with a steak?
SYLVIA: It was overdone.
HYMAN: What do you mean, hit her?
SYLVIA: He picked it up off the plate and slapped her in the face with it.
HYMAN: And then what?
HARRIET: Well if my mother hadn’t patched it up I don’t know what would have happened and then he went out and bought her that gorgeous beaver coat, and repainted the whole house, and he’s tight as a drum, you know, so it was hard for him. I don’t know what to tell you. - Why? —you think he could have frightened her like this?
HYMAN, hesitates: I don’t know yet. The whole thing is very strange.
Something darkens Harriet’s expression and she begins to shake her head from side to side and she bursts into tears. He comes and puts an arm around her.
HYMAN: What is it?
HARRIET: All her life she did nothing but love everybody!
HYMAN, reaches out to take her hand: Harriet.
She looks at him.
What do you want to tell me?
HARRIET: I don’t know if it’s right to talk about. But of course, it’s years and years ago...
HYMAN: None of this will ever be repeated; believe me.
HARRIET: Well... every first of the year when Uncle Myron was still alive we’d all go down to his basement for a New Year’s party. I’m talking like fifteen, sixteen years ago. He’s dead now, Myron, but... he was... you know... Small laugh... a little comical; he always kept this shoebox full of . . . you know, these postcards.
HYMAN: You mean ...
HARRIET: Yes. French. You know, naked women, and men with these great big ... you know ... they hung down like salamis. And everybody’d pass them around and die laughing. It was exactly the same thing every New Year’s. But this time, all of a sudden, Phillip ... we thought he’d lost his mind...
HYMAN: What happened?
HARRIET: Well Sylvia’s in the middle of laughing and he grabs the postcard out of her hand and he turns around screaming—I mean, really screaming—that we’re all a bunch of morons and idiots and God knows what, and throws her up the stairs. Bang! It cracked the bannister, I can still hear it. Catches her breath. I tell you it was months before anybody’d talk to him again. Because everybody on the block loves Sylvia.
HYMAN: What do you suppose made him do that?
HARRIET, shrugs: ... Well if you listen to some of the men—but of course some of the dirty minds on this block ... if you spread it over the backyard you’d get tomatoes six feet high.
HYMAN: Why?-what’d they say?
HARRIET: Well that the reason he got so mad was because he couldn’t ... you know...
HYMAN: Oh really.
HARRIET: ... anymore.
HYMAN: But they made up.
HARRIET: Listen, to be truthful you have to say it—although it’ll sound crazy...
HYMAN: What.
HARRIET: You watch him sometimes when they’ve got people over and she’s talking—he’ll sit quietly in the corner, and the expression on that man’s face when he’s watching her—it could almost break your heart.
HYMAN: Why?
HARRIET: He adores her!
Blackout.
SCENE FOUR
The cellist plays, and is gone.
Stanton Case is getting ready to leave his office. Putting on his blazer and a captain’s cap and a foulard. He has a great natural authority, an almost childishly naive self-assurance. Gellburg enters.
CASE: Good!—you’re back. I was just leaving.
GELLBURG: I’m sorry. I got caught in traffic over in Crown Heights.
CASE: I wanted to talk to you again about 611. Sit down for a moment.
Both sit.
We’re sailing out through the Narrows in about an hour.
GELLBURG: Beautiful day for it.
CASE: Are you all right? You don’t look well.
GELLBURG: Oh no, I’m fine.
CASE: Good. Have you come to anything final on 611? I like the price, I can tell you that right off.
GELLBURG: Yes, the price is not bad, but I’m still ...
CASE: I’ve walked past it again; I think with some renovation it would make a fine annex for the Harvard Club.
GELLBURG: It’s a very nice structure, yes. I’m not final on it yet but I have a few comments ... unless you’ve got to get on the water right away.
CASE: I have a few minutes. Go ahead.
GELLSURG: ... Before I forget—we got a very nice letter from Je
rome.
No reaction from Case.
My boy.
CASE: Oh yes!-how is he doing?
GELLBURG: They’re bringing him out to Fort Sill ... some kind of lecture on artillery.
CASE: Really, now! Well, isn’t that nice! ... Then he’s really intending to make a career in the army.
GELLBURG, surprised Case isn’t aware: Oh absolutely.
CASE: Well that’s good, isn’t it. It’s quite surprising for one of you people—for some reason I’d assumed he just wanted the education.
GELLBURG : Oh no. It’s his life. I’ll never know how to thank
you.
CASE: No trouble at all. The Point can probably use a few of you people to keep the rest of them awake. Now what’s this about 611?
GELLBURG, sets himself in all dignity: You might recall, we used the ABC Plumbing Contractors on a couple of buildings?
CASE: ABC?—I don’t recall. What have they got to do with it?
GELLBURG: They’re located in the neighborhood, just off Broadway, and on a long shot I went over to see Mr. Liebrreund—he runs ABC. I was wondering if they may have done any work for Wanamaker’s.
CASE: Wanamaker’s! What’s Wanamaker’s got to do with it?
GELLBURG: I buy my shirts in Wanamaker’s, and last time I was in there I caught my shoe on a splinter sticking up out of the floor.
CASE: Well that store is probably fifty years old.
GELLBURG: Closer to seventy-five. I tripped and almost fell down; this was very remarkable to me, that they would leave a floor in such condition. So I began wondering about it ...
CASE: About what?
GELLBURG: Number 611 is two blocks from Wanamaker’s. A little extra-wise grin. They’re the biggest business in the area, a whole square block, after all. Anyway, sure enough, turns out ABC does all Wanamaker’s plumbing work. And Liebfreund tells me he’s had to keep patching up their boilers because they canceled installation of new boilers last winter. A permanent cancellation.
Pause.
CASE: And what do you make of that?
GELLBURG: I think it could mean they’re either moving the store, or maybe going out of business.
CASE: Wanamaker’s?
GELLBURG: It’s possible, I understand the family is practically died out. Either way, if Wanamaker’s disappears, Mr. Case, that neighborhood in my opinion is no longer prime. Also, I called Kevin Sullivan over at Title Guarantee and he says they turned down 611 last year and he can’t remember why.
CASE: Then what are you telling me?
GELLBURG: I would not touch Number 611 with a ten-foot
pole-unless you can get it at a good defensive price. If that neighborhood starts to slide, 611 is a great big slice of lemon.
CASE: Well. That’s very disappointing. It would have made a wonderful club annex.
GELLBURG: With a thing like the Harvard Club you have got to think of the far distant future, Mr. Case, I don’t have to tell you that, and the future of that part of Broadway is a definite possible negative. Raising a monitory finger: I emphasize “possible,” mind you; only God can predict.
CASE: Well I must say, I would never have thought of Wanamaker’s disappearing. You’ve been more than thorough, Gellburg, we appreciate it. I’ve got to run now, but we’ll talk about this further ... Glances at his watch. Mustn’t
miss the tide ... Moves, indicates. Take a brandy if you like. Wife all right?
GELLBURG: Oh yes, she’s fine!
CASE, the faint shadow of a warning: Sure everything’s all right with you—we don’t want you getting sick now.
GELLBURG: Oh no, I’m very well, very well.
CASE: I’ll be back on Monday, we’ll go into this further. Indicates. Take a brandy if you like.
Case exits rather jauntily.
GELLBURG: Yes, sir, I might!
Gellburg stands alone; with a look of self-satisfaction starts to raise the glass.
Blackout.
SCENE FIVE
The cello plays, and the music falls away.
Sylvia in bed, reading a book. She looks up as Hyman enters. He is in his riding clothes. Sylvia has a certain excitement at seeing him.
SYLVIA: Oh, doctor!
HYMAN: I let myself in, hope I didn’t scare you...
SYLVIA: Oh no, I’m glad. Sit down. You been riding?
HYMAN: Yes. All the way down to Brighton Beach, nice long ride—I expected to see you jumping rope by now.
Sylvia laughs, embarrassed.
I think you’re just trying to get out of doing the dishes.
SYLVIA, strained laugh: Oh stop. You really love riding, don’t you?
HYMAN: Well there’s no telephone on a horse.
She laughs.
Ocean Parkway is like a German forest this time of the morning—riding under that archway of maple trees is like poetry.
SYLVIA: Wonderful. I never did anything like that.
HYMAN: Well, let’s go—I’ll take you out and teach you sometime. Have you been trying the exercise?
SYLVIA: I can’t do it.
HYMAN, shaking a finger at her: You’ve got to do it, Sylvia. You could end up permanently crippled. Let’s have a look.
He sits on the bed and draws the cover off her legs, then raises her nightgown. She inhales with a certain anticipation as he does so. He feels her toes.
You feel this at all?
SYLVIA: Well ... not really.
HYMAN: I’m going to pinch your toe. Ready?
SYLVIA: All right.
He pinches her big toe sharply; she doesn’t react. He rests a palm on her leg.
HYMAN: Your skin feels a little too cool. You’re going to lose your muscle tone if you don’t move. Your legs will begin to lose volume and shrink ...
SYLVIA, tears threaten: I know ... !
HYMAN: And look what beautiful legs you have, Sylvia. I’m afraid you’re getting comfortable in this condition ...
SYLVIA: I’m not. I keep trying to move them ...
HYMAN: But look now—here it’s eleven in the morning and you’re happily tucked into bed like it’s midnight.
SYLVIA: But I’ve tried ... ! Are you really sure it’s not a virus of some kind?
HYMAN: There’s nothing. Sylvia, you have a strong beautiful body ...
SYLVIA: But what can I do, I can’t feel anything!
She sits up with her face raised to him; he stands and moves abruptly away: Then turning back to her ...
HYMAN: I really should find someone else for you.
SYLVIA: Why!—I don’t want anyone else!
HYMAN: You’re a very attractive woman, don’t you know that?
Deeply excited, Sylvia glances away shyly.
HYMAN: Sylvia, listen to me ... I haven’t been this moved by a woman in a very long time.
SYLVIA: ... Well, you mustn’t get anyone else.
Pause.
HYMAN: Tell me the truth, Sylvia. Sylvia? How did this happen to you?
SYLVIA, she avoids his gaze: I don’t know. Sylvia’s anxiety rises as he speaks now.
HYMAN: ... I’m going to be straight with you; I thought this was going to be simpler than it’s turning out to be, and I care about you too much to play a game with your health. I can’t deny my vanity. I have a lot of it, but I have to face it—I know you want to tell me something and I don’t know how to get it out of you. Sylvia covers her face, ashamed. You’re a responsible woman, Sylvia, you have to start helping me, you can’t just lie there and expect a miracle to lift you to your feet. You tell me now -what should I know?
SYLVIA: I would tell you if I knew! Hyman turns away defeated and impatient. Couldn’t we just talk and maybe I could ... Breaks off. I like you. A lot. I love when you talk to me ... couldn’t we just... like for a few minutes....
HYMAN: Okay. What do you want to talk about?