The Americans (39 page)

* "The Johnstown grippe. In this kind of weather who could avoid it?" He stretched on the bed in the familiar position, hands laced under his head. He closed his eyes. Another melancholy monologue about to begin? Eleanor kept her head bent over her writing to conceal her disappointment. All at once Leo coughed and opened his eyes; something was on his mind. She signed the note, folded it, and smiled at him. He smiled too, but in a wan sort of way. He jumped up and stalked to the window. Eleanor turned in her chair, watching him. As she changed position, the robe's lapels fell away from her deep cleavage. She clasped the lapels together, not for modesty's sake but for warmth. The kindling in the fireplace had nearly burned away. A roach went scurrying along the baseboard beside the bed. She took notice without being unduly upset; she and Leo had stayed in far worse places. Leo eyed the streaming window. "The theater's liable to float away by eight o'clock. But in case it doesn't, I should go over those lines I had so much trouble with last night." So that was it; he was fretting about his performance again. Well, that was better than longing for a past that would never return. "Which lines do you mean?" "Third act. Where Snap's describing how the professor's play failed." She looked dubious. "I'd hardly say you had trouble. I noticed a moment's hesitation, that's all." "It was more than that," he shot back. "I paraphrased half a dozen words. It threw my timing completely off." Eleanor said nothing. Leo's insistence on perfection made him a highly dependable actor; one whom other actors trusted and enjoyed being with on stage. But that same perfectionism played its part in many of his personal disappointments. He expected too much of himself, of others, and the world. He always expected relationships to be flawbledcb less, and his career, and Eleanor's, to be free of major difficulties. Was there such a thing as being too idealistic? she wondered. He walked to the bureau, there rummaging among personal articles they'd unpacked and put away. She reached under the note lying in her lap: "I have the bikhl, if that's what you're searching for." She held up the frayed playscript. She'd picked up his habit of referring to it by the Yiddish word for small book. Leo had prepared the script by hand. It contained the dialogue for the entire play; normally, actors were issued only their own scenes. He laboriously wrote out a similar play- book for every show in which they appeared. "I was using it to write on," she added. "Let me find the page-was One of the plot lines of A Night Off dealt with Marcus Brutus Snap's attempt to make a killing by producing a classical tragedy written by a college professor named Babbit, who taught in a town where Snap's troupe was playing. The production was a catastrophe, and in the scene Leo wanted to rehearse, Snap was bemoaning the result of some scenic improvisation: a borrowed parrot in a tubbed orange tree had been part of the stage decoration for a scene in ancient Rome-for no very clear reason. "Here it is," Eleanor said. There were several characters on stage with Snap in the scene. She lowered her voice to read the line of the first to speak, a doctor: was 'How is it going?"'" Leo sat on the edge of the bed, immediately in character as the manager whose production had just met with catastrophe: was "It's all over. It's all over!"" She changed her inflection, playing the professor: "I knew it!"" Leo clutched his heart. was 'When I think of this happening to me in my old age-to " his She struggled to keep from smiling as she read the next line: was Tell us all about it."" was 'I've been a manager twenty-five years, but I never had such a failure as that!" his Again she was the disappointed playwright. was "How did it end?"'" ""How did it end? It ended in a riot, that's how it ended!"" was "A-a riot?" was 'We had to ring down in the middle of the second act! I never heard such hissing and whistling on a railroad train!"" Leo jumped up, waving his arms; his personation of the flamboyant, excitable manager made her laugh aloud. was "The audience jumped up and down like madmen-but the tragedy was not all to blame. Half the calamity was your fault, doctor. It was your parrot in the tubbed orange tree that capped the climax. Picture the pine grove in the second act-Cassius had just come on, and the audience was quiet. I was standing in the center-" his He took a long step toward the window. ""comz King Titus Tatius, with my arms folded just so-"" He folded them with great exaggeration. ""comglaring at the Roman soldiers. My wife had just finished Virgia's great speech, defying the haughty Romulus-" his Leo pitched his voice much higher, raising one finger as he declaimed: was "What would'st thou, king? Thy stubborn silence break comwhat would'st thou, tyrant? Answer. Speak!" his He looked at Eleanor. was "Then your confounded parrot squeaked at the top of his voice-"" He flung his arms wide and went falsetto: was "Kiss me, darling!"" Eleanor burst out laughing again. "Oh, Leo, you're wonderful. Absolutely wonderful!" He dropped out of character. "That did go a little better." "A little better? Letter perfect!" He walked to her side; put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down. "Undoubtedly that's because I have such a fine dialogue coach this afternoon. Thank you, Madam Goldman-was He planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. "But we both know where the genuine talent lies in this family." "Now, Leo, please don't start that." She raised the play- book. "Do you want to go over it again?" He ignored the book. "It's true, though. I realized it years ago. I'm a competent actor-sometimes even a good one-but there are thousands and thousands of those. You have talent and something else. You have that rare quality of holding every eye the moment you enter a room or walk onto a stage. It can't be learned and it can't be bought and only a very few possess it. The truth is, my dear, it's a precious gift, and you should capitalize on it-was His right hand strayed to her face; his knuckles moved gently back and forth along her cheek. That and the expression in his eyes told her that he was falling into one of his despondent moods. He continued to stroke her cheek slowly. "You should use that gift to attract a more suitable husband. Some goyische nabob with a lot of money and a talent for getting more." She slapped his wrist lightly with the script. "Leo Goldman, I don't want to hear you talk that way." "Why not?" His face bleak, he turned toward the window. "I've given you damn little, Eleanor. When I was a boy-long before I ever met you-I ran into your father one winter night on Printing House Square." "Yes, he's often told me the story." If he heard, he gave no indication; he seemed to be staring straight through her: "We talked for a few minutes, and I said I meant to make my fortune in America. I predicted that very blithely at the time. You notice I hardly ever predict it these days. I haven't made a fortune and I never will." "No one who goes into the theater jexpects to get rich. Not unless you move from acting into managing and producing, and even then it's chancy. We've always known that." "But you really could do much better when it comes to a husband. You could easily find one who isn't turned away from good hotels. One who doesn't drag you down to mediocrity with-was "Leo, don't!" He inhaled sharply, shrugged and leaned on the window sill, staring at the rain. He no longer looked handsome, only tired and defeated. Eleanor's eyes shone with anger. How she loathed these dark, self-pitying moods. They filled her with a special frustration because she was incapable of talking him out of them. She supposed a certain amount of disappointment was natural for him; he really had expected to grow rich in America. It was the eternal dream of the immigrant. Reality and the passage of time had slowly chipped it away. But that happened to everyone's dreams. Living with the disappointment was part of growing up. Don't evade, she thought. Of course being poor hurts him. But you're the one who gives him his deepest wounds. You strike at his manhood. If only you didn't make him feel a failure that way, he might be able to stand everything else. With a shuffling step, he returned to the bed. He didn't look at her. She stood up and thrust her suddenly chilly hands into the pockets of the old robe. Then she took his place at the window, gazing at the rain-blurred rooftops and the steep hillsides beyond. Somewhere on the same floor of the hotel, a man laughed. She wondered whether Leo would ever again find anything to laugh about. u She heard Leo throw himself down on the bed with a melodramatic sigh. It did no good to remind herself that all actors over-dramatized their own emotions. He was hurting. He needed her help. She knew of only one subject that might draw him out of his melancholy. She straightened her shoulders, composed her face and walked to the bedside. She sat down with her right hip touching his and began to stroke his forehead. "Darling, we mustn't let this terrible weather, or what happened at the other hotel, get the better of us. I don't want any husband except you. No-was She covered his lips with her fingers. "Don't say anything. We're both adults. We know some of the dreams we had when we were younger won't come true. But we needn't be rich to be happy. We must keep our eye on the goal we've set for ourselves. Owning that theater in New York. Running it. Hiring actors and actresses we respect, and producing the kind of plays we want to produce." She leaned down and kissed his mouth, adding a whispered word: "Together." At that he showed a little more animation. "Maybe we've toured long enough, Eleanor." "I was thinking the same thing." "Daly's a good employer, but I'd rather work for myself -" "So would I." "I don't know whether we have enough money to make the move, though." Over, the past few years they'd put every spare penny into a special account at the Rothman Bank in Boston. Under the bank's management, the principal had appreciated. "We have at least nine thousand dollars," she said. "Not a fortune, but we shouldn't let that hold us back. New York real estate prices keep rising. We should start looking for a theater immediately, and when we find one, we should try to buy it. If we don't have enough for the down payment, I'm quite willing to ask Papa-was "No gifts, Eleanor! I'll accept no gifts from anyone." "I know that, darling. It would be a loan, that's all. A loan we'd repay, with interest, just as if we'd gotten it from a bank." He considered it a moment. "Well, that would be all right-was He wasn't wholly impractical. They had often discussed the negative feelings of most banks when considering actors as credit risks. "I do think this might be the time to launch out on our own, Leo. While we're young enough to do all the work that will have to be done to launch a new company in a new theater. We could stay with Mr. Daly until this tour's over, then start searching for a property-was All at once, Leo raised himself on his right elbow. His old, charming smile appeared suddenly; the smile that had quite won her heart long before she'd married him. She was thankful her effort had been successful. His self-pity was gone, and he was more cheerful than he'd been in weeks: "I think you're exactly right. If we wait for every circumstance to be perfect, we'll still be waiting when we're seventy." He swept his left hand in an arc above her head, as if imagining a poster. "Eleanor Kent and Leo Goldman present Bronson Howard! Sardou! William Shakespeare-was "Don't forget Ibsen." He laughed and hugged her. "By God, Eleanor, that's as fine a dream as getting rich." "And it's one that can come true. We must definitely leave Daly when this tour's over. We can go to New York and work there until we find the right theater. It might not take too long. Regis has a nephew who's scene designer for the Knickerbocker. Regis heard that the principal stockholder is in poor health. The rest of the stock's owned by the man's family, and none of them is experienced in operating a theater. We might make an offer-was Leo's face lit with enthusiasm. "The Knickerbocker's a splendid little house. Good location right off the Rialto. The right size-four hundred and eighty-five seats-was She smiled. "Four hundred and ninety." Up went his eyebrows. "You've been doing homework." "Quizzing Regis," she nodded. "I'm tired of the road. We've served our apprenticeship-my heavens, it's been twelve years since we first went with Bascom's Tom show. Let's take the step while we can. Commit ourselves to it! I know we'll make it work." A troubled look dulled the glow in his eyes. He raised a cautioning finger. "Provided-was "Provided what?" "Provided you're still sure you want to be married to a Jew." She took his cheeks between her palms. "Listen to me, Leo Goldman. I am saying this for the very last time. No, I do not want to be married to a Jew, or to a Chinaman, a Berber, a Pole, or any other conveniently categorized type-was She leaned down again, her hair falling soft and dark on both sides of her face. She loved him, but there was always a certain fear when she demonstrated it. She knew where such demonstrations could and frequently did lead. Yet there was no equivalent way to tell him she considered him the most important person in the world. With only a moment's hesitation, she whispered: "I want you, Mr. Goldman. As for your religion, and your faults-was She tried to put a teasing note in her voice to overcome the tension already starting to build within her. "comn so numerous as mine, of course, but still considerable in number-all those things, dear sir-was She kissed him, wondering how she could he so eager for such a normal human contact and at the same time dread it. "com^th things are incidental. I love you." Just as she'd feared, he put one arm gently hehind her neck and pulled her mouth down again. His other hand slipped beneath her robe. Gentle fingers closed on her breast. She wanted to pull away. There was a wild, hysterical feeling within her; an irrational urge to run- But she was an actress. And she did love him. She kissed him with feigned ardor, pressing her breast against his hand even though she knew what the outcome would be. No, by heaven, she said to herself. Only moments ago they'd agreed to give their lives a different direction. It was time for.the marriage to have the same kind of new start. She would make it all end differently for once. She swore that as Leo began fumbling with the cord of the old robe. He pushed the robe down her back, baring her full, dark-nippled breasts. She would succeed this time. No fear was so great that courage could not overcome it- Leo knew Eleanor well, and was a considerate husband: "Darling, are you sure you're up to this?" "Yes, Leo, yes, please-I love you. I