The Joys of Love (15 page)

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Authors: Madeleine L'engle

BOOK: The Joys of Love
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“I'm extremely sorry, Miss Jerrold. I wouldn't have had this happen for anything.”
“Of course. I know,” Elizabeth said. “Here are the sides, Miss Andersen.”
“Thank you, Miss Jerrold. Good night.”
“Good night, Miss Andersen.”
“I was afraid of that,” Jane said as the door closed behind the actress.
“What did she say?” John Peter demanded.
“Dottie raised a stink with Mr. Price. Threatened to quit.”
“Aw, honey,” Jane said. “What a shame.”
Elizabeth reached up, took off her glasses, blew on them,
and put them on again. “Miss Andersen said she'd make Price use me if I wanted to, but of course I couldn't.”
“It was decent of her to come tell you herself,” John Peter said.
“Yes, it was. It was wonderful of her. It wasn't necessary at all. But she said she wanted me to hear it from her. That's why she came so late. And she said she wanted to have me sit in on dress rehearsal if I wanted to, but I was afraid Dottie would object to that, too, and make it uncomfortable for everyone, so I won't. But she was wonderful to bother to think of it.”
The door burst open, so violently that it banged against the foot of Elizabeth's bed, and Bibi dashed in. “Miss Courtmont's going!” she shouted. “Are you coming down to say goodbye?”
“We are not,” John Peter said. “And for heaven's sake, don't bang that door again. It kills my tooth.”
“Isn't she just the most glamorous person you've ever seen! I want to look just like that when I'm middle-aged!” Bibi cried with enthusiasm.
“Why don't you tell her, Bibi,” John Peter suggested with a grin at Jane and Elizabeth. “I'm sure she'd be touched. I just know Sarah Courtmont would appreciate being called middle-aged.”
“Go say goodbye, Bibi,” Jane said. “Say goodbye for all of us.”
“Aren't you excited about being in
Macbeth
and doing the Gentlewoman, Liz?” Bibi squealed, paying no attention to Jane. “Gosh, you're lucky.”
“I'm not doing the Gentlewoman,” Elizabeth said.
“Why not? Who is?”
“Marian Hatfield, same as before.”
“You mean Dottie's playing Lady Macduff after all?”
“Exactly.”
“If you want Courtmont to say goodbye to you, you'd better hurry downstairs.” Jane's pleasant voice sounded unusually impatient.
“
Aren't
you coming?” Bibi asked.
“No,” Elizabeth said. “We're not. Goodbye.”
“Ben's downstairs saying goodbye.”
“He can stay there.”
“You needn't be so rude, Elizabeth.” Bibi's reedy voice was aggrieved.
“Sorry.”
Bibi started for the door. “Jack and I are going back to Irving's after Courtmont goes, so I won't be back until late.”
Jane looked at her with distaste. “It's late already.”
“If you value your life, don't wake us up when you come in,” Elizabeth added.
“I'll be quiet if you don't wake me up tomorrow morning,” Bibi bargained.
John Peter took Bibi by the shoulders and propelled her out the door. “If you make any noise when you come in, you'll answer to me.” He shut the door and brushed his hands off. “There.”
“Liz,” Jane said.
“Mm-hm?”
“Now that you aren't doing the Gentlewoman—well, look, I know how much you want to be here just to watch Miss
Andersen next week, and if you'd let me I'd love to lend it to you …”
Elizabeth looked at her awkwardly. “Jane, bless you, you're an angel, but Soapie's already paid room and board through next week and I managed to argue Price into letting me stay on that.”
“Oh, good, that's all right, then,” Jane said, equally awkwardly. “Have you told your aunt yet?”
“No, I should have called her tonight, but I'll do it in the morning so she won't expect me on the train.”
Just then a voice called, “Everybody decent?” And without waiting for an answer, Huntley Haskell opened the door a crack and pushed his head in.
“Come on in,” John Peter said. “Anything we can do for you?”
“Have you seen Dottie?” Huntley's speech was a little slurred, his gait a little unsteady.
“Didn't she go to Irving's with you?” Jane asked.
“I lost track of her,” Huntley said. “She hasn't been there in a coupla hours.”
“Did you see Kurt?” Elizabeth asked.
“Not there either,” Huntley said. “Darn little bastard. Listen, Jerrold, you might've known you couldn't edge Dottie out of the play.”
“That wasn't really my idea, Huntley,” Elizabeth said.
“Didn't say it was. Just said you ought to have known you couldn't've done it. Dottie doesn't give. She takes.”
Huntley stood swaying in the doorway for a moment. Then
he waved at them, a limp, heavy hand. “So long, kids.” He wavered out.
“What a fool,” John Peter said.
“John Peter, darling, I want some more coffee before I go to bed.”
“Come on, then,” he said. “It's late. It's almost three. And I want to go to bed. My tooth hurts.”
“I can't go to sleep unless I've had coffee. It's getting to be practically a neurosis.” Jane sighed. “Want some, Liz?”
“No, thanks. I'm going to sleep.”
John Peter put his arm around Jane. “Come on, darling.”
Before Elizabeth could get into bed, Ben bounced into the room, his face white with fatigue, but his dark eyes sparkling as usual. “Courtmont's gone. Thank everything. And congratulate me for being a good boy, Liz. I went to Irving's but I had a pineapple malted milk and a maple nut sundae and a banana split.”
Elizabeth groaned. “I don't know which is more lethal, that goo or gin.”
“Gin was mother's milk to me,” Ben elegantly misquoted from
Pygmalion
. “And tomorrow our little Bibi will be down at the station to meet Mr. Mervyn Melrose, heart-throbbing star of cinema and stage. And what a frappy comedy Price has picked for
him
. The gags in it were hoary in Minsky's day.”
“Bibi will love him. It's a pity Soapie's gone.”
“Oh, Soapie wouldn't like him. He lives with a dame.”
“Well!”
15
“He's married to her, but she's still a dame. Caramel?”
“No, thanks. Ben, we're awful to be so mean to Bibi and
Soapie. We shouldn't have teased Soapie. It's partly our fault she left.”
“And good riddance, too,” Ben said with finality. “Soapie didn't have looks and she certainly didn't have talent. The sooner she retires from the theatre, the better. And the same goes for Bibi. Only Bibi has looks, if you go for that type, which I don't, and she's a lot surer of herself than Soapie was, so she'll be a lot harder to dislodge.”
Elizabeth lay back on the lumpy bed and stared up at the ceiling. “We're so darned sure of ourselves. We simply assume that we're good and then feel we've a perfect right to criticize and condemn other people wholesale. Sooner or later we're going to get a boot in the behind that'll knock us off our high horses—my metaphor's mixed but you know what I mean—and we'll deserve it, after the way we carry on about ourselves.”
“You just got a boot on your high horse from Aunt Harriet and you still feel fairly sure of yourself,” Ben said.
“Yes. And
Macbeth
. Sure, but that didn't have anything to do with me. Miss Andersen still wanted me, that's what's important. Losing the part was just politics. Kurt was right this afternoon. We just aren't as good as we think we are. Nobody's that good.”
Ben laughed, then asked, “What brought that on?”
“Oh, I don't know. Aunt Harriet's always drummed it into me about pride going before a fall—though she's got the same kind of pride most Southerners have—oh, I don't know. I guess knowing I have to go back to Jordan the end of next week. I was so sure of the summer and everything being so
wonderful, and now all of a sudden a whole half of the summer's just vanishing into thin air.”
Suddenly Ben sat up with a yell. “Hey, listen, what did I hear you say just now?”
“Could you do that good a double take onstage?” Elizabeth asked him.
“Did I hear you say you weren't doing
Macbeth
?” Ben demanded fiercely.
“You did.”
“Dottie?”
“Yes.”
“That jerk! Sacred cow, Liz, that's nauseating.”
Elizabeth watched a fly crawling slowly across the ceiling and pause to investigate a crack that must have appeared to it like a chasm. “I wouldn't care so much except she must have made it awfully unpleasant for Miss Andersen.”
“Somebody's going to strangle her someday. You'll see.” Ben nodded knowingly.
Elizabeth sat up. “Miss Andersen told me herself, Ben—I mean, about my not playing the Gentlewoman.”
“That was decent of her.”
“Catch anybody else taking that amount of trouble over an apprentice? If there were only more people like her, the theatre wouldn't be in the mess it's in today.” She looked over at Ben and he was sitting, chin in hand, not listening, an unhappy expression on his face; unhappiness was not a common expression to Ben's features, which were usually alive with laughter, and Elizabeth asked gently, “What's the matter, Ben?”
“I was thinking about what you said about how sure we are
of ourselves,” he answered, looking not at Elizabeth but down at his feet. “Does it really seem that way? Do we really seem so darned sure? If I seem sure of myself, it's just a bluff. Maybe I take it out on people like Soapie and Bibi just to kid myself I really mean it, to bluff myself as well as everybody else.”
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked, aghast.
“Oh, sure I'm sure of myself,” Ben said, still looking down at the floor. “I'd have to be sure of myself or I wouldn't be here marking time. Maybe it's different for you. You're just out of college. And John Peter and Jane all full of drama school. But I was on the stage pretty steadily until college. I wasn't ever a star or anything, but I had jobs, I worked, I was part of the theatre. And where am I now?”
“Where are you?” Elizabeth asked gently.
“Nowhere. In limbo. I'm too old to do kid parts anymore. My arms and legs are too long, I'm too skinny, God knows I'm not handsome and I know it, too, I can see my face in the mirror when I shave in the morning. Everything about me's too big for myself now. My nose is too big, my hands and feet are too big. So it's nothing but marking time till I grow up to myself. I'm scared stiff to do Kostya for Miss Andersen tomorrow. It's my type of role but I'll look like a fool.”
“You're going to be very handsome someday,” Elizabeth said, putting her hand on his shoulder, “and you're a good actor right now. Give Miss Andersen some credit.”
“Oh, sure,” Ben said, “sure. It's just that it's such a hell of a long wait, Liz. You've got to kid yourself into believing you've got an awful lot of faith in yourself.”
“I have faith in you, if that helps any,” Elizabeth said.
Ben looked up at her quickly. “Liz, if I—if you—” he started, then broke off as John Peter and Jane came in, bearing cartons of coffee. They had picked up Ditta on the way.
“I think Kurt is coming up to see you, Liz,” Jane said, looking at John Peter and raising her eyebrows as Elizabeth sat up quickly.
“Oh,” she said too casually.
When Kurt came in, his face fell. “Liz—I wondered—oh, you're undressed.” Suddenly he seemed like a disappointed little boy. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Well, sit down and talk,” Ditta said. “We don't bite.”
For a moment Kurt looked annoyed. Then he sat down on one of the beds. “It's been a long day. I'm tired.”
“Why don't you go to bed, then?” Ben asked rudely.
Kurt raised his eyebrows, but answered perfectly amiably. “I thought I'd see how everyone's doing,” he said.
“I suppose you know Dottie bitched Liz out of her part,” Ben said.
“Yes,” Kurt said. “I'm very sorry about that. I wanted to talk to you about it, Liebchen.”
“Oh, forget it,” Elizabeth said. “If Dottie wanted to raise a fuss, there wasn't anything anybody could do about it.”

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