Etiquette and Vitriol by Nicky Silver (classic fiction .txt) 📗

That simply won’t do. (Hangs up) This is terrible!

EMMA: What is it Mother?

GRACE: That was Mr. Lavie. There’s a problem with the rabbit pâté.

TOMMY: Rabbit pâté?

GRACE: For the cocktail hour—it seems all the rabbits had cervical cancer and the pâté is contaminated.

TOMMY: Ick.

EMMA: I don’t like the idea of eating bunnies anyway.

GRACE: That leaves us short on hors d’oeuvres! What am I supposed to do? Pass out Ritz Crackers?

EMMA: I like Ritz Crackers!

GRACE: I hate Mr. Lavie! He wears a pinkie ring with a diamond in it. And did you see? The tent is mustard and navy! I specifically asked for burnt ochre and midnight!

TOMMY: What’s burnt ochre?

EMMA: Mustard.

GRACE: The orchids are heliotrope!

TOMMY: What’s heliotrope?

EMMA: Purple.

GRACE: They look like giant bruises! I ordered aubergine!

TOMMY: What’s aubergine?

EMMA: Purple.

GRACE: It’s all part of the harvest—the vegetable theme I’m doing. The ochre, the aubergine—it’s a visual cornucopia—

(The phone rings; Grace answers it.)

Hello?

TOMMY: Is it for me?

GRACE (Waving him away): Oh hello dear!

TOMMY: You were right. I’m sorry we didn’t elope.

GRACE (Into the phone): That is too bad. Of course I understand. I’ll call you soon. Bye-bye. (She hangs up the phone) I hate her!!!!

EMMA: Who’s that?

GRACE: Nina Triten!

EMMA: Who?

GRACE: You remember her, from the club.

EMMA: No.

GRACE: Well, she begs me to have her children at the wedding— you know I hate children, socially, at an affair—but she begs me. She plays the devoted mother, can’t leave them home, can’t leave them with strangers. So I acquiesce. And now, when it’s too late to fill her table, she cancels! She and her six, screaming, sticky-fingered little brats!

EMMA: Why?

GRACE: Oh I don’t know. I wasn’t listening. Something about death, cancer, lymphoma, one of her children. Who cares? It was obviously an excuse!

TOMMY: Cancer?

GRACE: I should just throw the place cards in the air and start from scratch. Twenty-seven is empty! I could put your Father O’Hara there, and the Gideon twins—I know! Tommy, do you think if I called them right now, eight or nine of those nuns who raised you might be free tomorrow?

TOMMY: I don’t know.

GRACE: Of course they are. What else do they have to do all day?

TOMMY: They supplicate.

GRACE: Oh, they can skip that for one day. This is an emergency, God won’t mind—I better go through my address book—Oh why does everything happen to me? (She exits up the stairs)

EMMA: I have something to tell you.

TOMMY: Then just tell me! Do you have to narrate everything you do? Can’t you just do things? It’s not normal.

EMMA: I’m pregnant.

TOMMY: What?

EMMA: I’m going to have a baby.

TOMMY: Who’s the father?

EMMA: You are of course! I knew something was happening to me. My colon wasn’t hurting and my leg stopped cramping.

TOMMY: Those aren’t signs.

EMMA: And I missed my last two periods. The doctor called this morning. Do you want to feel it?

TOMMY: No thank you.

EMMA: Your seed is growing inside of me. I hope it’s a boy. Or a girl! I love children. Don’t you?

TOMMY: No.

EMMA: What do you mean?

TOMMY: What could I mean by “no”?

EMMA: Children are nice.

TOMMY: Noisy, screaming bundles of goo.

EMMA: You’ll come around. No one likes children until they have one.

TOMMY: We’ll see.

EMMA: Tomorrow we’ll leave here and never come back.

TOMMY: Don’t you think we should stay until the baby comes.

EMMA: Why?

TOMMY: You don’t know anything about babies.

EMMA: There’s nothing to know. My breast’ll make milk.

TOMMY: I just think—

EMMA: You promised me!

TOMMY: I know I did.

EMMA: I can’t stay here! It’s been all right! I’ve been all right because I knew I was escaping! I knew there was an end!

TOMMY: I don’t want to go.

EMMA (Not listening to him): Todd scares me! He’s creepy. He spends all of his time with the bones of dead things! And my father’s possessed—I know it! He speaks in tongues!

TOMMY: Don’t be dramatic.

EMMA: I don’t let on because I don’t want him to eat me! He comes to me at night. He wears a halo of fire. His feet are cloven, his hair is a tangle of snakes and his tongue is a mile long!

TOMMY: Your father?

EMMA: I can’t breathe!

TOMMY: Mr. Duncan?

EMMA: You promised you’d save me!!

TODD (Offstage): Hello.

EMMA (To Tommy): CHEESE IT!

(Todd enters, carrying books on dinosaurs and a gift.)

(To Todd, cheery) Hello.

TODD: You look very beautiful in your dress.

EMMA and TOMMY: Thank you.

TODD: I meant Emma.

TOMMY: Oh.

EMMA: Thank you.

TODD: Although you look well too, Tommy.

TOMMY: This old thing?

EMMA: I had another memory today! We were in a beautiful hot-air balloon, with tiny twinkling lights on the basket, listening to “Moonlight Serenade.”

TODD: That never happened.

EMMA: But I remember it.

TODD: I’ve never been in a hot-air balloon.

TOMMY: That’s from the cult-favorite, much maligned, 1980 Woody Allen film, Stardust Memories.

TODD (Out): Never saw it.

TOMMY (Out): Self-indulgent.

EMMA (Out): Guess I liked it.

TOMMY: How are you feeling?

TODD: Fine.

EMMA: It’s remarkable that you have no symptoms.

TODD: I brought you a gift.

EMMA: I love presents! What’s the occasion?

TODD: Your wedding.

TOMMY: It’s very nice of you.

EMMA (Unwrapping it): It’s beautiful! It’s . . . a gun.

TODD: Your pattern.

EMMA: It’s sweet. It’s a sweet-looking gun.

TODD: I hope you like it.

EMMA: It’s lovely, but, do you really think a gun is an appropriate gift?

TODD: I didn’t know what to get you.

EMMA: I like earrings.

TOMMY: Don’t be ungrateful.

EMMA: It’s pretty!

TODD (Taking the gun, loading it): I thought you might need it.

EMMA: And we don’t have a gun. Do we honey?

TODD: I thought since you’re leaving—

EMMA: You told him?! I can’t believe you told him!

TOMMY: I didn’t mean to. It slipped out.

EMMA: We promised we wouldn’t.

TOMMY: He won’t tell anyone.

EMMA: That’s not the point! We agreed!

TOMMY: Well I did it and I can’t undo it!

TODD: You’ll need it out there. Everything is ending. People are corpses. They trample each other and never notice the cry of sorrow. While mothers, doctors and civilized men practice their genocide.

EMMA (Bewildered, retrieving the gun): Well . . . I’ll just go toss this in my hope chest. (She exits)

TOMMY: I’m going to die.

(Arthur enters and hangs his jacket on the dinosaur.)

ARTHUR: Grace! Where’s Mrs. Duncan? Grace!

TODD: I’ve