Ideal (20 page)

POLICEMAN
: No, sir. Sorry to have bothered you.

LANGLEY
: We are really alone here—[
Points to
KAY GONDA
]—
this lady
and I. But you're welcome to
look around.

POLICEMAN
: Why, no, sir. No need to. Good night. [
Exits
]

LANGLEY
: [
Waits to hear his steps descending the stairs. Then turns to
KAY GOND
A
and bursts out laughing
] That gave the show away, didn't it, my girl?

KAY GONDA
: What?

LANGLEY
: The cop. If you were Kay Gonda and if the police were looking for you, wouldn't he have grabbed you?

KAY GONDA
: He did not see my face.

LANGLEY
: He would have looked. Come on, what kind of racket are you really working?

KAY GONDA
: [
Stepping up to him, in full light
] Dwight Langley! Look at me! Look at all these pictures of me that you've painted! Don't you know me? You've lived with me in your hours of work, your best hours. Were you lying in those hours?

LANGLE
Y
: Kindly leave my art out of it. My art has nothing to do with your life or mine.

KAY GONDA
: Of what account is an art that preaches things it does not want to exist?

LANGLEY
: [
Solemnly
] Listen. Kay Gonda is the symbol of all the beauty I bring to the world, a beauty we can never reach. We can only sing of her, who is the unattainable. That is the mission of the artist. We can only strive, but never succeed. Attempt, but never achieve. That is our tragedy, but our hopelessness is our glory. Get out of here!

KAY GONDA
: I need your help.

LANGLEY
: Get out!!

[
Her arms fall limply. She turns and walks out.
DWIGHT LANGLEY
slams the door
]

CURTAIN

T
he letter projected on the screen is written in an ornate, old-fashioned handwriting:

Dear Miss Gonda,

Some may call this letter a sacrilege. But as I write it, I do not feel like a sinner. For when I look at you on the screen, it seems to me that we are working for the same cause, you and I. This may surprise you, for I am only a humble Evangelist. But when I speak to men about the sacred meaning of life, I feel that you hold the same Truth which my words struggle in vain to disclose. We are
traveling different roads, Miss Gonda, but we are bound to the same destination.

Respectfully yours,

Claude Ignatius Hix

. . . Slosson Blvd.

Los Angeles, California

Lights go out, screen disappears. When the curtain rises on the temple of
CLAUDE IGNATIUS HIX
, the stage is almost completely black. Nothing can be seen of the room save the dim outline of a door, downstage Right, open upon a dark street. A small cross of electric lights burns high on wall Center. It throws just enough light to show the face and shoulders of
CLAUDE IGNATIUS HIX
high above the ground (
he is standing in the pulpit, but this cannot be distinguished in the darkness). He is tall, gaunt, clothed in black; his hair is receding off a high forehead. His hands rise eloquently as he speaks into the darkness.

HIX
: . . . but even in the blackest one of us, there is a spark of the sublime, a single drop in the desert of every barren soul. And all the suffering of men, all the twisted agonies of their lives, come from their treason to that hidden flame. All commit the treason, and none can escape the payment. None can . . . [
Someone sneezes loudly in the darkness, by the door Right.
HIX
stops short, calls in a startled voice
:] Who's there?

[
He presses a switch that lights two tall electric tapers by the sides of his pulpit. We can now see the temple. It is a long, narrow barn with bare rafters and unpainted walls. There are no windows and only a single door. Rows of old wooden benches fill the room, facing the pulpit
]

[
SISTER ESSIE TWOMEY
stands downstage Right, by the door. She is a short, plump woman nearing forty, with bleached blond hair falling in curls on her shoulders, from under the brim of a large pink picture hat trimmed with lilies-of-the-valley. Her stocky little figure is draped in the long folds of a sky-blue cape
]

ESSIE TWOMEY
: [
She raises her right arm solemnly
] Praise the Lord! Good evening, Brother Hix. Keep going. Don't let me interrupt you.

HIX
: [
Startled and angry
]
You?
What are
you
doing here?

ESSIE TWOMEY
: I heard you way from the street—it's a blessed voice you have, though you don't control your belly tones properly—and I didn't want to intrude. I just slipped in.

HIX
: [
Icily
] And of what service may I be to
you
?

ESSIE TWO
MEY
: Go ahead with the rehearsal. It's an inspiring sermon you have there, a peach of a sermon. Though a bit on the old-fashioned side. Not modern enough, Brother Hix. That's not the way I do it.

HIX
: I do not recall having solicited advice, Sister Twomey, and I should like to inquire for the reason of this sudden visitation.

ESSIE TWOMEY
: Praise the Lord! I'm a harbinger of good news. Yes, indeed. I got a corker for you.

HIX
: I shall point out that we have never had any matters of common interest.

ESSIE TWOMEY
: Verily, Brother Hix. You smacked the nail right on the head. That's why you'll be overjoyed at the proposition. [
Settling herself comfortably down on a bench
] It's like this, brother: there's no room in this neighborhood for you and me both.

HIX
: Sister Twomey, these are the first words of truth I have ever heard emerging from your mouth.

ESSIE TWOMEY
: The poor dear souls in these parts are heavily laden, indeed. They cannot support two temples. Why, the mangy bums haven't got enough to feed the fleas on a dog!

HI
X
: Dare I believe, sister, that your conscience has spoken at last, and you are prepared to leave this neighborhood?

ESSIE TWOMEY
: Who?
Me
leave this neighborhood? [
Solemnly
] Why, Brother Hix, you have no idea of the blessed work my temple is doing. The lost souls milling at its portals—praise the Lord! . . . [
Sharply
] No, brother, keep your shirt on. I'm going to buy you out.

HIX
: What?!

ESSIE TWOMEY
: Not that I really have to. You're no competition. But I thought I might as well clear it up once and for all. I want this territory.

HIX
: [
Beside himself
] You had the infernal presumption to suppose that the Temple of Eternal Truth was for sale?

ESSIE TWOMEY
: Now, now, Brother Hix, let's be modern. That's no way to talk business. Just look at the facts. You're washed up here, brother.

HIX
: I will have you understand . . .

ESSIE TWOMEY
: What kind of a draw do you get? Thirty or fifty heads on a big night. Look at me. Two thousand souls every evening, seeking the glory of God!
Two thousand
noses, actual count! I'm putting on a Midnight Service tonight—“The Night Life of the Angels”—and I'm expecting three thousand.

HIX
: [
Drawing himself up
] There come moments in a man's life when he is sorely pressed to remember the lesson of charity to all. I have no wish to insult you. But I have always considered you a tool of the Devil. My temple has stood in this neighborhood for . . .

ESSIE TWOMEY
: I know. For twenty years. But times change, brother.
You haven't got what it takes anymore. You're still in the horse-and-buggy age—praise the Lord!

HIX
: The faith of my fathers is good enough for me.

ESSIE T
WOMEY
: Maybe so, brother, maybe so. But not for the customers. Now, for instance, take the name of your place: Temple of Eternal Truth. Folks don't go for that nowadays. What have I got? The Little Church of the Cheery Corner. That draws 'em, brother. Like flies.

HIX
: I do not wish to discuss it.

ESSIE TWOM
EY
: Look at what you were just rehearsing here. That'll put 'em to sleep. Verily. You can't hand out that line anymore. Now take my last sermon—“The Service Station of the Spirit.” There's a lesson for you, brother! I had a whole service station built—[
Rises, walks to pulpit
]—right there, behind my pulpit. Tall pumps, glass and gold, labeled P
URITY
, P
RAYER
, P
RAYER
WITH
F
AITH
S
UPER-
M
IXTURE
. And young boys in white uniforms—good-lookers, every one of 'em!—with gold wings, and caps inscribed C
REED
O
IL,
I
NC.
Clever, eh?

HIX
: It's a sacrilege!

ESSIE TWOMEY
: [
Stepping up on the pulpit
] And the pulpit here was—[
Looks at her fingers
]—hm, dust, Brother Hix. Bad business! . . . And the pulpit was made up like a gold automobile. [
Greatly inspired
] Then I preached to my flock that when you travel the hard road of life, you must be sure that your tank is filled with the best gas of Faith, that your tires are inflated with the air of Charity, that your radiator is cooled with the sweet water of Temperance, that your battery is charged with the power of Righteousness, and that you beware of treacherous Detours which lead to perdition! [
In her normal voice
] Boy, did that wow 'em! Praise the Lord! It brought the house down! And we had no
trouble at all when we passed the collection box made up in the shape of a gasoline can!

HIX
: [
With controlled fury
] Sister Twomey, you will please step down from my pulpit!

ESSIE TWOMEY
: [
Coming down
] Well, brother, to make a long story short, I'll give you five hundred bucks and you can move your junk out.

HIX
:
Five hundred dollars for the Temple of Eternal Truth?

ESSIE TWOMEY
: Well, what's the matter with five hundred dollars? It's a lot of money. You can buy a good secondhand car for five hundred dollars.

HIX
: Never, in twenty years, have I shown the door to anyone in this temple. But I am doing it now. [
He points to the door
]

ESSIE TWOMEY
: [
Shrugging
] Well, have it your own way, brother. They have eyes, but they see not! . . . I should worry, by Jesus! [
Raising her arm
] Praise the Lord! [
Exits
]

[
The minute she is out,
EZRY
's
head comes peering cautiously from behind the door.
EZRY
is a lanky, gangling youth, far from bright
]

EZRY
: [
Calls in a whisper
] Oh, Brother Hix!

HIX
: [
Startled
] Ezry! What are you doing there? Come in.

EZRY
: [
Enters, awed
] Gee, it was better'n a movie show!

HIX
: Have you been listening?

EZRY
: Gee! Was that Sister Essie Twomey?

HIX
: Yes, Ezry, it was Sister Essie Twomey. Now, you mustn't tell anyone about what you heard here.

EZRY
: No, sir. Cross my heart, Brother Hix. [
Looking at the door with admiration
] My, but Sister Twomey talks pretty!

HI
X
: You mustn't say that. Sister Twomey is an evil woman.

EZRY
: Yes, sir. . . . Gee, but she's got such pretty curls!

HIX
: Ezry, do you believe in me? Do you like to come here for the services?

EZRY
: Yes, sir. . . . The Crump twins, they said Sister Twomey had a airyplane in her temple, honest to goodness!

HIX
: [
Desperately
] My boy, listen to me, for the sake of your immortal soul . . . [
He stops short.
KAY GONDA
enters
]

KAY GONDA
: Mr. Hix?

HIX
: [
Without taking his eyes from her, in a choked voice
] Ezry. Run along.

EZRY
: [
Frightened
] Yes, sir. [
Exits hurriedly
]

HIX
: You're not . . .

KAY GONDA
: Yes. I am.

HIX
: To what do I owe the great honor of . . .

KAY GO
NDA
: To a murder.

HIX
: Do you mean that those rumors are true?

KAY GONDA
: You can throw me out, if you wish. You can call the police, if you prefer. Only do so now.

HI
X
: You are seeking shelter?

KAY GONDA
: For one night.

HIX
: [
Walks to the open door, closes it, and locks it
] This door has not been closed for twenty years. It shall be closed tonight. [
He returns to her and silently hands her the key
]

KAY GONDA
: [
Astonished
] Why are you giving it to me?

HIX
: The door will not be opened, until you wish to open it.

KAY GONDA
: [
She smiles, takes the key, and slips it into her bag. Then
:] Thank you.

HIX
: [
Sternly
] No. Do not thank me. I do not want you to stay here.

KAY GONDA
: [
Without understanding
] You—don't?

HIX
: But you are safe—if this is the safety you want. I have turned the place over to you. You may stay here as long as you like. The decision will be yours.

KAY GONDA
: You do not want me to hide here?

HIX
: I do not want you to hide.

KAY GO
NDA
: [
She looks at him thoughtfully, then walks to a bench and sits down, watching him. She asks slowly
:] What would you have me do?

HIX
: [
He stands before her, austerely erect and solemn
] You have taken a heavy burden upon your shoulders.

KAY GOND
A
: Yes. A heavy burden. And I wonder how much longer I will be able to carry it.

HIX
: You may hide from the men who threaten you. But of what importance is that?

KAY GONDA
: Then you do not want to save me?

HIX
: Oh, yes. I want to save you. But not from the police.

KAY GONDA
: From whom?

HIX
: From yourself. [
She looks at him for a long moment, a fixed, steady glance, and does not answer
] You have committed a mortal sin. You have killed a human being. [
Points to the room
] Can this place—or any place—give you protection from that?

KAY GONDA
: No.

HIX
: You cannot escape from your crime. Then do not try to run from it. Give up. Surrender. Confess.