Etiquette and Vitriol (41 page)

PHYLLIS:
Or the garbage.

PAM:
Oh.

PHYLLIS:
Bishop brings them.

PAM:
Oh. That one's nice.

PHYLLIS:
You can have it.

PAM:
Well, thank you.

PHYLLIS:
I don't like it.

PAM:
Oh.

PHYLLIS:
And it has no mate.

PAM
(Dropping it)
: Well thank you anyway.

PHYLLIS:
I'm hungry.

PAM
(Miserable)
: Would you like me to get you something?

PHYLLIS:
You're a bad cook.

PAM:
I know.

PHYLLIS:
I feel like . . . eggs!

PAM:
What?

PHYLLIS:
I think I'd like some scrambled eggs.

PAM:
How about a sandwich?

PHYLLIS:
No. Eggs.

PAM:
Ice cream? We have ice cream.

PHYLLIS:
Why can't I have eggs?

PAM:
We don't have any eggs.

PHYLLIS
(Sinister)
: What kind of a maid are you?

PAM:
Howard doesn't eat eggs.

PHYLLIS:
I eat eggs.

PAM:
He doesn't like them.

PHYLLIS:
You are a terrible maid.

PAM:
I'm not the maid, Phyllis.

PHYLLIS
(Frightened)
: Are you her evil twin sister?

PAM:
No.

PHYLLIS:
Then you're the maid.

PAM:
No, no. I'm not.

PHYLLIS:
You look like the maid.

PAM:
I'm me. That's not what I mean.

PHYLLIS:
You're trying to drive me insane.

PAM:
I'm not.

PHYLLIS:
I think that's cruel.

PAM:
Listen to me.

PHYLLIS
(Out)
: And redundant.

PAM:
I'm not really a maid.

PHYLLIS:
Is this an argument for existentialism?

PAM:
No.

PHYLLIS:
If you're not the maid, then why are you dressed like that? Not that I don't like it. I do. It reminds me of my mother.

PAM:
Is she a maid?

PHYLLIS:
She's a waitress.

PAM:
I'm an actress.

PHYLLIS:
And you're preparing for a part?

PAM:
Not exactly.

PHYLLIS
(Giving up)
: Can't you just dust?

PAM:
I want to prepare you. I want you to understand.

PHYLLIS:
I don't think I want to.

PAM:
You know I'm going to have a baby.

PHYLLIS:
I just thought you had bad posture.

PAM:
And Howard is the baby's father.

PHYLLIS:
Howard? Howard, who?

PAM:
Your husband.

PHYLLIS:
He's sleeping with the maid?

PAM
(Losing her patience)
: Pay attention.

PHYLLIS:
How cliché.

PAM:
I wasn't a maid when I conceived!

PHYLLIS:
And he gave you a job. I think that's big-hearted.

PAM:
No Phyllis! Listen to me. Concentrate. Howard and I are in love. I'm not a maid. I've been pretending. He doesn't want to hurt you. He feels responsible for you. But time is passing and I think you're strong enough to see. To understand.

PHYLLIS:
Understand what?

PAM:
I plan to marry Howard. As soon as possible. I plan to marry him.

PHYLLIS:
I see.

PAM:
You do?

PHYLLIS:
Yes. That's why you never go home and you're here when I wake up and here when I fall asleep and why you creep past me at night and why you pretend there's a room where I know there's a closet.

PAM:
I hate that closet.

PHYLLIS:
It's a nice closet.

PAM:
Are you upset?

PHYLLIS:
No. What do I care if you like the closet?

PAM:
About Howard? About me?

PHYLLIS:
Oh. No.

PAM:
Really?

PHYLLIS:
Now I feel we can talk like friends. I felt class distinction prevented that when you were the maid.

PAM
(Out)
: There is dignity in any job well done.

PHYLLIS:
Howard plans to send me away then?

PAM:
He's afraid to.

PHYLLIS:
I know I should leave this room.

PAM:
He's not very strong.

PHYLLIS:
But I don't want to. I thought, when I was on the island, I thought all I wanted was walls. I thought I wanted a television. I thought I wanted cars and people. But when I try to get up, when I try to leave the room, I feel sick.
Sometimes when no one's around, I try and I get really sick. It's not in my mind. I know you hate me.

PAM:
What?

PHYLLIS:
I know you hate that we're here. Please don't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry we came back. No one asked us.

PAM:
I'm sorry.

PHYLLIS:
No one ever asked me.

PAM:
Was it terrible?

PHYLLIS:
It wasn't that the sky went on forever, it was seeing the nature of things. The way things really are. It was being watched at night and seeing how the world really is.

PAM:
You don't have to talk about it.

(Bishop enters behind them, unnoticed.)

PHYLLIS:
I was always the pretty one and my sister Marie was the smart one. And I was nice. Before I met Howard, I was. I was a nice person. I was pretty then. I thought that mattered.

PAM:
You're still pretty.

PHYLLIS:
No, my feet are too big. I'm an eight.

PAM:
I don't think so.

PHYLLIS:
No, I know I am. I've had my feet measured. I'm an eight.

PAM:
That's not what I meant.

PHYLLIS:
What did you mean? By what? When?

PAM:
Forget it.

PHYLLIS:
I'm confused. I want to leave the room. I do. I want to leave for Howard. Because he wants me to. And even though he wants me to for his own reasons, like he wants to sleep with the domestic help, I want to for him, because I don't hate him. Really. And I want to do it for me. Because I know people do. And I know that's what I should want. I should want to leave here and go shopping and have a life, and change my clothes—I think I've been wearing this dress forever—do I smell funny?—I know I should want these
things, but I don't seem to be able to make myself. When I close my eyes all I see is the high high sky and the birds flying stupidly around Katharine Hepburn's face the way she looked in
Summertime
or
The Rainmaker
or
Sea of Grass.
And what scares me most of all—and this is really embarrassing—is I think I miss it.

PAM:
What?

PHYLLIS:
And that makes me want to just stop. And I cry. And Bishop comforts me. He protects me. And he holds me. When no one is looking. Late at night, when you're in your closet and Howard's in bed. Bishop comes to me and makes me feel all right for a minute. And I hold him against myself and pretend that she's watching and we're on the sand by the sea . . . and it's really very beautiful—when we can pretend.

PAM:
Oh my God!

PHYLLIS:
What?

PAM:
I can't believe it! The two of you—that's terrible—

PHYLLIS:
You shouldn't judge.

PAM:
You poor—

PHYLLIS:
No, no, it's not his fault.

PAM:
We'll send him away.

PHYLLIS:
No.

PAM:
Howard doesn't know this, does he?

PHYLLIS:
Please—

PAM:
We'll send him away! He will.

PHYLLIS:
Don't tell him—

PAM:
Don't worry, Phyllis. He'll take care of it.

PHYLLIS:
He won't understand.

PAM:
I've got to go.

BISHOP
(Lunging at Pam with a knife)
: NO!

(Pam screams. Blackout.)

The lights come up on Phyllis frantically packing shoes, trying to get all her shoes into a suitcase.

PHYLLIS:
Bishop! Bishop!

(Bishop enters, eating a sandwich and dragging what must obviously be Pam's leg.)

BISHOP:
What?

PHYLLIS:
What are you doing?

BISHOP:
Eating. I'm hungry.

PHYLLIS:
Please. Don't get blood on the chair.

BISHOP:
Yeah yeah yeah.

PHYLLIS:
Help me.

BISHOP:
T'sorta dry. It could use some barbecue sauce. D'ya think we have any?

PHYLLIS:
I don't know. Help me. We've got to pack.

BISHOP:
Or soy sauce. Soy sauce would be good.

PHYLLIS:
What are you talking about?

BISHOP:
I'm talking about condiments!

PHYLLIS:
We've got to pack. We've got to get out of here.

BISHOP:
Why?

PHYLLIS:
You killed someone, Bishop.

BISHOP:
Yeah so and.

PHYLLIS:
Don't you understand?

BISHOP:
You want some?

PHYLLIS:
God no.

BISHOP
(Out)
: It's good but it's dry.

PHYLLIS:
Not “It's good,” Bishop. “She's good.”

BISHOP:
Maybe ketchup.

PHYLLIS:
You've committed murder!

BISHOP:
Or mayo.

PHYLLIS:
We have to get out of here.

BISHOP:
You overreact.

PHYLLIS:
Someone will find out! They'll find out and put you away! We need disguises. Can you grow a mustache? Do I have a wig? They'll catch you!

BISHOP:
Who?

PHYLLIS:
The police!

BISHOP:
Morons.

PHYLLIS:
You can't just murder people willy-nilly—

BISHOP:
I can.

PHYLLIS:
Where can we go? Have you ever been to Detroit?

BISHOP:
We don't have to.

PHYLLIS:
I'll dye my hair. Can you grow a beard?

BISHOP
(Threatening)
: Do you like your shoes?

PHYLLIS:
Help me think. Where can we hide?

BISHOP:
Do you?

PHYLLIS:
What's that got to do with anything?

BISHOP:
Just answer the fucking question!

PHYLLIS:
Yes.

BISHOP:
Where do you get them?

PHYLLIS:
You bring them to me.