The Magic Tower and Other One-Act Plays (16 page)

JIM
: Speaking—figuratively.

AMANDA
:
—Oh. . .

JIM
: There’s quite a number like him, won’t drive and can’t be driven, a monkey wrench in the works.

AMANDA
: Oh, how awful!

JIM
: But don’t you see, Mrs. Wingfield, if the works aren’t good, then a monkey wrench in them
is!

AMANDA
: No, I don’t see at all, I think it is awful, to fit into such a worthless classification!

TOM
: So I’m a monkey wrench! [
He grins
.] I’m glad to know I’ve got a definition!

AMANDA
[
clapping a hand to her forehead
]: Oh, my goodness, a monkey wrench for a son! Mr. Delaney, have some more potatoes.

JIM
: No, thank you, Ma’am.

AMANDA
: What does your father do, Jim?

JIM
: He has a retail shoe store in Wyoming.

AMANDA
: Shoes! A commodity always in demand! And some day you’ll take over, I suppose?

JIM
: My heart is set on radio engineering. I feel there’s a great day coming for television. It will be a field where the dreamy types and the dissatisfied workhorses can flash to the world original pictures of things, and make great changes.

AMANDA
: But won’t these “drivers” you speak of flash the pictures?

JIM
: Not if we muscle in first, the dreamers and I.

AMANDA
: According to what you say, you’re not the dreamy type nor exactly the ordinary workhorse either.

JIM
: That’s right, Mrs. Wingfield.

AMANDA
: Just what are you then?

JIM
[
grinning
]: A combination, the beginning of an experiment—dreams plus action, which is the next generation!

AMANDA
:
—Oh!
[
She smiles uncertainly
.] That sounds very exciting.

JIM
: It is, I think. “All the world is waiting for the sunrise!”

[
The chandelier flickers and dims out
.]

AMANDA
: Where was Moses when the lights went out! Do you know the answer to that one, Mr. Delaney?

JIM
: No. What is the answer?

AMANDA
: In the dark! [
Jim laughs appreciatively
.] [
Amanda gets up
.] How lucky we have these candles on the table.

JIM
: Here’s a match. [
Lights one of the candelabras
.]

AMANDA
: Everybody just sit still, I’ll take a look at the fuse-box. Can you tell a burnt-out fuse when you see one, Mr. Delaney?

JIM
[
following her
]: Uh-huh.

AMANDA
: Tom! Did you pay that light-bill?

TOM
: Why, I—
think
so—I’m not sure.

AMANDA
: Oh, there we have it! It’s no use even looking at the fuse-box! The dreamy type neglected to pay the light-bill!

JIM
[
laughing
]: Shakespeare probably wrote a poem on it.

AMANDA
: Mr. Delaney, it isn’t a joking matter. There’s such a high price for negligence in this world!

JIM
: Maybe the poem will win a ten-dollar prize!

AMANDA
: We’ll just have candlelight for the rest of the evening.

JIM
: Well, what’s wrong about that?

AMANDA
: Nothing except I’m a little out of patience with type number three! Come on, Dreamy Type, you and I’ll clear the dishes. Laura, you take Mr. Delaney into the living room. [
She thrusts the candelabra into Laura’s hand. Laura looks helplessly at Jim
.
He grins
.]

JIM
: Come on, Laura. Let’s have a look at those records. I don’t suppose you got any Benny Goodman, or boogie-woogie numbers?

LAURA
: I—I’m afraid not. They’re all old records that came with the Victrola.

JIM
: The machine’s a pretty old-timer.

LAURA
:
—Yes
. [
Still holding the candelabra
.] Father bought it the day before he left. With all these records.

JIM
[
sorting through them
]: “Whispering.” “Dardanella.” Where did he go?

LAURA
: He was type number three.
—Nobody
knows.

JIM
: Oh. Just disappeared?

LAURA
:
—Yes
. He left the
music—by
way of apology for him. When he—fell in love with long distance! [
She smiles slightly
.] And so
we—haven’t
bought any new ones.

JIM
: Don’t you like swing-music?

LAURA
: It makes me think of the speed-drills we used to have at Rubicam’s Business College, we typed to—very fast music, which made me nervous. . . I had to quit after a while, it made me so—Where shall I put the candles?

JIM
: On the floor! [
She does
.] This is nice. This is very nice, I like it. [
He smiles at her gently
.] I like this place. I like you people, Laura. [
He laughs
.]
You’re—you’re—out
of the world!

LAURA
[
looking shyly away
]: Are we?

JIM
: You’re shy, aren’t you? Don’t be shy with me, I’m nothing to be shy of. What do you do?

LAURA
:
—Do?

JIM
: Yes.

LAURA
:
I—don’t
know.

JIM
: You went to business college, and didn’t like
it—and
now?

LAURA
:
I—stay
home—mostly
.

JIM
: Here?

LAURA
:
—Yes
.

JIM
:
—What
goes on?

LAURA
:
—Why—nothing
.

JIM
:
But—something
must.

LAURA
:
—Why—nothing
.
Really—nothing
.

JIM
: Huh! [
He looks at her across the candelabra
.]
You’re—you’re
very pretty.

LAURA
[
startled
]: What?

JIM
: The dreamy type in a girl
is—very
attractive. What do you do?

LAURA
: I told you—really nothing. Not since the business
college—didn’t
work out.

JIM
: But something else will.

LAURA
[
sadly
]:
I—suppose
.

JIM
: Sure.
—
Sure!
Why—not
everybody
is—delicate—like
you!
[
He is sitting on the floor. Slides himself closer, leaning over the candles
.]

JIM
: What
do
you do? I
mean—You
have dates, don’t you?

LAURA
:
—I—

JIM
: Go out with fellows?

LAURA
:
—No
,
I—

JIM
: Don’t?

LAURA
:
I—don’t—get
along very
well—with
people—strangers
.
I—don’t
meet
people—often
.
I—
[
Her voice dies out in confusion. She looks down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap
.]

JIM
[
laughs very gently
]: Don’t understand why not.

LAURA
: The city is big
and—
Everybody is busy!

JIM
: What do
you
do?

LAURA
: You keep asking me that
and—I
don’t know. I sketch in the park,
I—have
my glass collection.

JIM
: A collection? Of glass?

LAURA
:
—Yes
. [
She speaks a little more naturally
.]

LAURA
: Little objects made out of glass, you know.

JIM
: I’ve never seen any.

LAURA
: Of course you have.
—In
windows.

JIM
: Little glass objects, huh? Like what!

LAURA
:
Animals—mostly
.
Little—miniatures
of them.

JIM
[
grinning
]: Animals mostly!

LAURA
:
—Yes
. I’ve hundreds of them. All around my bedroom on little shelves, and all in very light
and—delicate
colors. On sunny
days—I
live inside
a—rainbow
!

JIM
[
laughs softly
]: Let me see them.

LAURA
: I
could—bring
one out. Wait! I’ll bring some out!

JIM
[
softly
]: What is
it—Laura
?

LAURA
: Only one to give you an idea of them.

JIM
[
slowly extending his hand
]: What is it?

LAURA
: This one’s a unicorn. Do you know what that is?

JIM
:
—No
.
—What
?

LAURA
: Something that doesn’t exist in the world anymore.

JIM
:
—Oh
!

LAURA
: It used to, though, when the world was in its childhood.

JIM
: It looks like a horse.

LAURA
: It is a horse. With a horn.

JIM
:
—Oh
.
—That
doesn’t exist anymore.

LAURA
: No.
—All
of this kind
have—disappeared
from the world. Gone like
father—with
only music behind them!

JIM
: Yeah. I see what you mean.

LAURA
: He’s all that’s left of the beautiful unicorn horses.

LAURA
: He’s white. He’s
not
white,
he’s—blue—Spilled
over white! The way snow is when it’s—late in the afternoon. Now hold him
up—You
see how he catches the light? Oh, he loves it, loves it! He has a permanent place on the top shelf in the window, where the sun stays longest because
he—
loves
it!—so.

JIM
: But they’re all gone, the others
of—his
description?

LAURA
:
—Yes
.

JIM
: He must
be—lonesome
.

LAURA
: He
is!
He’s very brave, though, and he doesn’t complain about it. He stays on the shelf with the ordinary horses that don’t have horns, and he seems to be getting along with them very nicely. I don’t hear arguments going on among them!

JIM
[
laughs, rather astonished
]:
—No?—Well, well—No
arguments—going
on. . . [
He stares gravely at Laura
,
not at the ornament of glass
.
She draws it slowly back and closes her fingers gently around it
.]

LAURA
: You have to be careful,
careful!—
If you breathe—it
breaks!

JIM
: A fellow like
me—couldn’t
touch it?

LAURA
: Oh, I think
you
could!

JIM
: You don’t know very much about me yet.

LAURA
: You told a good deal at the table.

JIM
: I didn’t think you were listening!

LAURA
: Oh, I was!

JIM
: I can’t imagine what made me talk so much!

LAURA
: I’m glad you did. Here! Hold him if you like!

JIM
: I’d better not.

LAURA
: Oh, please! [
He takes it gingerly
.]

LAURA
: There now! You’re holding it very gently!

JIM
: I am right now. But most of the
time—you
wouldn’t trust me with it?