Gerald Nicosia

JACK IN GHOST-TOWN

ACT ONE (cont'd)

[PREVIOUS]

NEAL: I treated you to your first orangeade.

LUANNE: With the money you stole from my uncle.

NEAL: You see? You get hung up the the way squares do, out of fear. That's just one level. Didn't I always take care of you?

LUANNE: You lied to me that I was getting upset for no reason. But all those women were a fact, and your saying they weren't or aren't doesn't eliminate them.

NEAL: Well speaking of lying, how 'bout that time you told me the cops were after me just to get me outa New York?
(The RASKOLNIKS get up and YOUNG JACK starts to leave with them.)
Was that nice? What about that ... Say, why're you splitting, Jack?

YOUNG JACK: This party's runnin' out of gas. Me 'n' these cats are gonna go find some more.

NEAL: I got all the gasoline you need, boy! I'm the fastestmanalive! And then I gotta put up with these stupid little bitches nagging that I don't do the dishes...

(LUANNE slaps his face.)

LUANNE: Shut up! Shut up! Don't you ever get tired of taunting me?

NEAL: You taunted me for years. You were nothing but a mascot for the football team when I met you, for Christ's sake...

(LUANNE slaps him again, and starts to cry.)

LUANNE: I was a kid when you met me, just a kid. Just a stupid little girl who wanted to be popular! And you really fixed me, didn't you? Admit it! You fixed me for good! And I'll never forgive you for it!

NEAL: Bitch! Bitch! Look at the little bitch.

LUANNE: What kind of monster are you?

NEAL: What is the matter with you?

ALLEN: What are you doing to each other? Stop it now! Stop it immediately! ... Oh, look, look, she's bleeding! Luanne, Luanne, can't you get up? ... She didn't mean it, Neal! Help me with her. She's bleeding where you hit her...

(NEAL kneels beside her and takes her from ALLEN. ALLEN goes to get a towel.)

NEAL: Baby, honey! Are you all right? Baby, look what we did! Luanne! Luanne! Put your head back, honey. Oh, look what I did to you!
(NEAL holds up his hand.)
And look what I did to my hand! I broke my thumb! I broke my thumb on you, baby! See, see?
(He puts his thumb to her mouth.)
Can you feel it?

(She feels his thumb and ALLEN returns to wrap a towel around her forehead. NEAL and LUANNE are now kissing each other's wounds, cooing and moaning.)

LUANNE: Neal, Neal, poor Neal! What a foolish baby you have! What was I doing? ... Oh Allen, what can we do? I'm sorry for saying those mean things about you.

ALLEN: Keep this on your forehead ... Neal, you better get some ice for your hand, while I go call a doctor.

(Suddenly NEAL hefts her up onto his shoulder.)

LUANNE: Neal, what're you doing?

ALLEN: Where're you going? You have to wait for the doctor!

YOUNG JACK (laughing): Neal doesn't wait for anyone.

(NEAL starts carrying LUANNE offstage.)

ALLEN: Come back, Neal! You're in no condition to go out by yourselves!

NEAL: Never fear, my sterling lad! Sex is the only fit excuse for violence.

(NEAL exits with LUANNE, and ALLEN runs out after them. Lights come up on the living room and YOUNG JACK walks toward OLD JACK. GERARD enters the living room. At the same time OLD JACK should rise from his rocker and face the audience.)

YOUNG JACK: Nobody ever left me like that before, Gerry. He always left me smiling.

(YOUNG JACK exits.)

OLD JACK: Until he started to change ... And Allen, he changed too. They all changed, even Memere. She can't get out of bed anymore ... But my brother never changed! Him and Papa Leo!
(OLD JACK looks both ways, making certain the coast is clear; then he moves the photo of his father to the top shelf of the bookcase and reaches behind it to extract a half-pint of Johnny Walker Red. He unscrews the cap and holds the bottle up to GERARD, as if in a toast.)
My father by my brother lies, in a sinking field in the old Nashué ... I have a rendezvous with them quite soon ... in fact perhaps today.
(OLD JACK swigs from the bottle, then heads for his rocker, but hesitates as he glances back and his eyes lock again with the eyes of GERARD. He turns again to look directly at THE PORTRAIT.)
Are you done with me yet, Gerry?

(Some romantic swing music comes up slowly--perhaps Tommy Dorsey's "Opus One"--then dies away as OLD JACK goes over to his rocker. He sets the bottle on the little table beside him, sits down, picks up a copy of "Don Quixote" off the floor, and starts to read aloud, but softly, to himself. He is startled by a voice coming from behind him.)

YOUNG JACK: Excuse me, Mr. Kerouac. I've got some questions to ask you for the Raging Light Review.

(OLD Jack turns toward where the voice has come from. At the same moment, YOUNG JACK steps onstage with a notebook under his arm, and GERARD exits.)

OLD JACK: "Raging Light Review"? You expect me to fall for that?

YOUNG JACK: I expect you to fall off your barstool, like Mr. Thomas did.

OLD JACK: I haven't had 18 straight whiskeys yet--only fifteen.

YOUNG JACK: Not bad. Only some of our readers have the impression that you've already died. We want to set them straight.

OLD JACK (jumping up): Come in! Sit down! I'll bet you're a Welshman, aren't you?
(YOUNG JACK takes a seat on the sofa, across from OLD JACK, and begins to write in his notebook. OLD JACK reaches for a coffee cup on the table, pours the leftover coffee onto the floor, and then pours some whiskey into the cup for YOUNG JACK.)
Let me fix you a drink.

YOUNG JACK: Thanks, Jack.

OLD JACK (staring at him as he takes a swig of whiskey): Kid, you should get your teeth fixed!

YOUNG JACK: Your teeth don't look so hot either, Jack.

OLD JACK: I meant it as a compliment. How many poets do you know that have good teeth? I mean good poets.

(OLD JACK grins mischievously at YOUNG JACK, who can't keep from grinning, and then eventually laughing, himself.)

STELLA (offstage): Jackie! Who's in the living room with you?

YOUNG JACK: Is that your mother?

OLD JACK: I have two mothers.

(STELLA enters, does not seem to notice YOUNG JACK. She charges menacingly toward OLD JACK.)

STELLA: Give me that bottle!

(He holds on to the bottle.)

OLD JACK (to YOUNG JACK): She doesn't understand me.

YOUNG JACK: Then why did you marry her?

(STELLA suddenly turns toward YOUNG JACK, and approaches him with embarrassed shyness, like an eighteen-year-old girl. OLD JACK sips from his whiskey as he quietly watches the following scene unfold.)

STELLA: Jackie, I'm sorry I didn't see you sitting there. Are you waiting for Sammy?

YOUNG JACK: We're supposed to go down today and sign up for our Coast Guard papers.

STELLA: He had some errands to run first. He said he'd meet you in Boston.

YOUNG JACK: Then I'd better get going.

STELLA: I'll be afraid to read the newspaper while you're gone. They're sinking merchant ships every day now.

YOUNG JACK: I'll write you letters, Stella.

STELLA: Will you really? ... Sammy's been reading your stories, and he says they're as good as Saroyan's.

YOUNG JACK: Your brother's not an editor.

STELLA: He really believes in you, Jack. He talks to me about you all the time. He says you could make it as a writer if you really tried.

YOUNG JACK: Right now I'm just trying to be a sailor, and if I don't leave now I won't get my papers.

STELLA: Sammy said you might read me some of your stories.

YOUNG JACK: Sammy says a lot of things ... Listen, I have to go.

(YOUNG JACK turns to leave; then simply pulls out his notebook and begins scribbling in it. STELLA turns to OLD JACK--once again the righteous housewife.)

STELLA: Why don't you go up to your study and work for a few hours?

OLD JACK: I'm working now! (he hefts "Don Quixote") I'm reading "Don Quixote."

STELLA: That's not paying our bills.

OLD JACK: Then God must be paying them--they haven't kicked us out yet.

STELLA: My brothers...

OLD JACK: ...are a bunch of Greek apes! They threw me out of their bar.

STELLA: They saved our home.

(OLD JACK jumps out of his rocker and begins pacing.)

OLD JACK: Only to keep us from moving in with them. They don't love me! Sammy was the only one who loved me!

STELLA: Speak more softly or you'll wake Memere.

OLD JACK: So what? She's my mother, isn't she? My mother is a descendant of Napoleon.

STELLA: I can see the family resemblance.

OLD JACK: If only Sammy'd got his Coast Guard papers, like I did, he wouldn't have got killed in that big strategic goof at Anzio ... He had the most beautiful, tragic dark eyes--a poet's eyes. He loved everyone.

STELLA: Just like you.

OLD JACK: I don't love everyone.

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