The Skin of Our Teeth (3 page)

SABINA:

And what do they care about? Themselves—that's all they care about.

Shrilly.

They make fun of you behind your back. Don't tell me: they're ashamed of you. Half the time, they pretend they're someone else's children. Little thanks you get from them.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

I'm not asking for any thanks.

SABINA:

And Mr. Antrobus—you don't understand
him.
All that work he does—trying to discover the alphabet and the multiplication table. Whenever he tries to learn anything you fight against it.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

Oh, Sabina, I know you.

When Mr. Antrobus raped you home from your Sabine hills, he did it to insult me.

He did it for your pretty face, and to insult me.

You were the new wife, weren't you?

For a year or two you lay on your bed all day and polished the nails on your hands and feet.

You made puff-balls of the combings of your hair and you blew them up to the ceiling.

And I washed your underclothes and I made you chicken broths.

I bore children and between my very groans I stirred the cream that you'd put on your face.

But I knew you wouldn't last.

You didn't last.

SABINA:

But it was I who encouraged Mr. Antrobus to make the alphabet. I'm sorry to say it, Mrs. Antrobus, but you're not a beautiful woman, and you can never know what a man could do if he tried. It's girls like I who inspire the multiplication table.

I'm sorry to say it, but you're not a beautiful woman, Mrs. Antrobus, and that's the God's truth.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

And you didn't last—you sank to the kitchen. And what do you do there?
You let the fire go out!

No wonder to you it seems easier being dead.

Reading and writing and counting on your fingers is all very well in their way,—but I keep the home going.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

—There's that dinosaur on the front lawn again.—Shoo! Go away. Go away.

The baby
DINOSAUR
puts his head in the window.

DINOSAUR:

It's cold.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

You go around to the back of the house where you belong.

DINOSAUR:

It's cold.

The
DINOSAUR
disappears.
MRS. ANTROBUS
goes calmly out.

SABINA
slowly raises her head and speaks to the audience. The central portion of the center wall rises, pauses, and disappears into the loft.

SABINA:

Now that you audience are listening to this, too, I understand it a little better.

I wish eleven o'clock were here; I don't want to be dragged through this whole play again.

The
TELEGRAPH BOY
is seen entering along the back wall of the stage from the right. She catches sight of him and calls:

Mrs. Antrobus! Mrs. Antrobus! Help! There's a strange man coming to the house. He's coming up the walk, help!

Enter
MRS. ANTROBUS
in alarm, but efficient.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

Help me quick!

They barricade the door by piling the furniture against it.

Who is it? What do you want?

TELEGRAPH BOY:

A telegram for Mrs. Antrobus from Mr. Antrobus in the city.

SABINA:

Are you sure, are you sure? Maybe it's just a trap!

MRS. ANTROBUS:

I know his voice, Sabina. We can open the door.

Enter the
TELEGRAPH BOY
, 12 years old, in uniform. The
DINOSAUR
and
MAMMOTH
slip by him into the room and settle down front right.

I'm sorry we kept you waiting. We have to be careful, you know.

To the
ANIMALS
.

Hm! . . . Will you be quiet?

They nod.

Have you had your supper?

They nod.

Are you
ready
to come in?

They nod.

Young man, have you any fire with you? Then light the grate, will you?

He nods, produces something like a briquet; and kneels by the imagined fireplace, footlights center. Pause.

What are people saying about this cold weather?

He makes a doubtful shrug with his shoulders.

Sabina, take this stick and go and light the stove.

SABINA:

Like I told you, Mrs. Antrobus; two weeks. That's the law. I hope that's perfectly clear.

Exit.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

What about this cold weather?

TELEGRAPH BOY:

Lowered eyes.

Of course, I don't know anything . . . but they say there's a wall of ice moving down from the North, that's what they say. We can't get Boston by telegraph, and they're burning pianos in Hartford.

. . . It moves everything in front of it, churches and post offices and city halls.

I live in Brooklyn myself.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

What are people doing about it?

TELEGRAPH BOY:

Well . . . uh . . . Talking, mostly.

Or just what you'd do a day in February.

There are some that are trying to go South and the roads are crowded; but you can't take old people and children very far in a cold like this.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

—What's this telegram you have for me?

TELEGRAPH BOY:

Fingertips to his forehead.

If you wait just a minute; I've got to remember it.

The
ANIMALS
have left their corner and are nosing him. Presently they take places on either side of him, leaning against his hips, like heraldic beasts.

This telegram was flashed from Murray Hill to University Heights! And then by puffs of smoke from University Heights to Staten Island.

And then by lantern from Staten Island to Plainfield, New Jersey. What hath God wrought!

He clears his throat.

“To Mrs. Antrobus, Excelsior, New Jersey:

My dear wife, will be an hour late. Busy day at the office. Don't worry the children about the cold just keep them warm burn everything except Shakespeare.”

Pause.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

Men!—He knows I'd burn ten Shakespeares to prevent a child of mine from having one cold in the head. What does it say next?

Enter
SABINA
.

TELEGRAPH BOY:

“Have made great discoveries today have separated em from en.”

SABINA:

I know what that is, that's the alphabet, yes it is. Mr. Antrobus is just the cleverest man. Why, when the alphabet's finished, we'll be able to tell the future and everything.

TELEGRAPH BOY:

Then listen to this: “Ten tens make a hundred semi-colon consequences far-reaching.”

Watches for effect.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

The earth's turning to ice, and all he can do is to make up new numbers.

TELEGRAPH BOY:

Well, Mrs. Antrobus, like the head man at our office said: a few more discoveries like that and we'll be worth freezing.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

What does he say next?

TELEGRAPH BOY:

I . . . I can't do this last part very well.

He clears his throat and sings.

“Happy w'dding ann'vers'ry to you, Happy ann'vers'ry to you—”

The
ANIMALS
begin to howl soulfully;
SABINA
screams with pleasure.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

Dolly! Frederick! Be quiet.

TELEGRAPH BOY:

Above the din.

“Happy w'dding ann'vers'ry, dear Eva; happy w'dding ann'vers'ry to you.”

MRS. ANTROBUS:

Is that in the telegram? Are they singing telegrams now?

He nods.

The earth's getting so silly no wonder the sun turns cold.

SABINA:

Mrs. Antrobus, I want to take back the notice I gave you. Mrs. Antrobus, I don't want to leave a house that gets such interesting telegrams and I'm sorry for anything I said. I really am.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

Young man, I'd like to give you something for all this trouble; Mr. Antrobus isn't home yet and I have no money and no food in the house—

TELEGRAPH BOY:

Mrs. Antrobus . . . I don't like to . . . appear to . . . ask for anything, but . . .

MRS. ANTROBUS:

What is it you'd like?

TELEGRAPH BOY:

Do you happen to have an old needle you could spare? My wife just sits home all day thinking about needles.

SABINA:

Shrilly.

We only got two in the house. Mrs. Antrobus, you know we only got two in the house.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

After a look at
SABINA
taking a needle from her collar.

Why yes, I can spare this.

TELEGRAPH BOY:

Lowered eyes.

Thank you, Mrs. Antrobus. Mrs. Antrobus, can I ask you something else? I have two sons of my own; if the cold gets worse, what should I do?

SABINA:

I think we'll all perish, that's what I think. Cold like this in August is just the end of the whole world.

Silence.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

I don't know. After all, what does one do about anything? Just keep as warm as you can. And don't let your wife and children see that you're worried.

TELEGRAPH BOY:

Yes. . . . Thank you, Mrs. Antrobus. Well, I'd better be going.—Oh, I forgot! There's one more sentence in the telegram. “Three cheers have invented the wheel.”

MRS. ANTROBUS:

A wheel? What's a wheel?

TELEGRAPH BOY:

I don't know. That's what it said. The sign for it is like this. Well, goodbye.

The
WOMEN
see him to the door, with goodbyes and injunctions to keep warm.

SABINA:

Apron to her eyes, wailing.

Mrs. Antrobus, it looks to me like all the nice men in the world are already married; I don't know why that is.

Exit.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

Thoughtful; to the
ANIMALS
.

Do you ever remember hearing tell of any cold like this in August?

The
ANIMALS
shake their heads.

From your grandmothers or anyone?

They shake their heads.

Have you any suggestions?

They shake their heads.

She pulls her shawl around, goes to the front door and opening it an inch calls:

HENRY. GLADYS. CHILDREN. Come right in and get warm. No, no, when mama says a thing she means it.

Henry! HENRY. Put down that stone. You know what happened last time.

Shriek.

HENRY! Put down that stone!

Gladys! Put down your dress!! Try and be a lady.

The
CHILDREN
bound in and dash to the fire. They take off their winter things and leave them in heaps on the floor.

GLADYS:

Mama, I'm hungry. Mama, why is it so cold?

HENRY:

At the same time.

Mama, why doesn't it snow? Mama, when's supper ready?

Maybe, it'll snow and we can make snowballs.

GLADYS:

Mama, it's so cold that in one more minute I just couldn't of stood it.

MRS. ANTROBUS:

Settle down, both of you, I want to talk to you.

She draws up a hassock and sits front center over the orchestra pit before the imaginary fire. The
CHILDREN
stretch out on the floor, leaning against her lap. Tableau by Raphael. The
ANIMALS
edge up and complete the triangle.

It's just a cold spell of some kind. Now listen to what I'm saying: