She starts again.
TONYA. (Calling after her) You said you would show me how to do the chicken walk!
MARGUERITE. As soon as I get back! Stay right there! Don’t try any dancing steps till I show you just what to do!
DELRAY. Go!
Marguerite goes out, then pops her head back in the doorway for a parting shot.
MARGUERITE. O-U-T spells out goes me!
She leaves. Delray exits to the rear.
MRS. VETCH. Marguerite is such a good girl.
MR. NIBLIS. Little Marguerite is a fine girl.
MRS. VETCH. She’s a sweet girl.
MR. MINGO. Marguerite is a frisky girl. I wonder if she will remember anything at all about us when she too has been abandoned in some old folks home.
MRS. VETCH. Oh really now, Mr. Mingo!
MR. MINGO. Sitting there despondent with a hump on her back. Chewing her cud day after day, smacking her lips. All lost in some dim and tangled dream.
MRS. VETCH. Why must you dwell on such unpleasant things? How can you be so cruel? Why couldn’t you just let us think of her as an innocent little girl with a tender heart?
MR. NIBLIS. Because that’s not his nature. That wouldn’t be Mingo. It was thoughts like that that got him put away the first time. The doctors turned him loose way too soon if you ask me.
MRS. VETCH. I hope she doesn’t take up with some sorry scamp. When her time comes to marry.
MR. NIBLIS. Mingo lost all his shame in that newspaper racket. The man hasn’t blushed in sixty-five years.
MRS. VETCH. I do hope Marguerite will find some nice boy that is worthy of her. Some fine young gentleman.
MR. NIBLIS. What are her chances of that?
MR. MINGO. No, I don’t think she’ll remember us at all. When her time comes to be put away. Childhood amnesia will see to that. We’ll be utterly gone from human memory.
MRS. VETCH. (Cocking her head, raising her hand) Hush. What’s that? Listen. I hear somebody moving around upstairs.
Pause.
MR. NIBLIS. You don’t reckon it’s Ramp come back, do you?
MRS. VETCH. I feel in my bones that Mr. Ramp has gone for good. I can’t imagine who it could be. Unless…(Sudden illumination) Unless it’s Delray’s women! Yes, it is! It’s Delray’s cheap and tacky women from New Orleans! They’re here! Strutting around up there in their boots!
Enter Delray with two empty plastic buckets, heading for the stairs.
DELRAY. What was that? What are you saying about me now?
MRS. VETCH. He’s already shipped his women in! We’re not even out the door yet and Delray has already installed his women in our rooms!
MR. MINGO. Delray doesn’t do things by halves.
MRS. VETCH. He stops at nothing, Mr. Mingo!
MR. NIBLIS. Delray has thousands of dollars.
MRS. VETCH. He’s capable of anything!
MR. PALFREY. Way too many new people moving in around here.
DELRAY. Do you sit there and accuse me of transporting women across state lines, Mrs. Vetch?
MRS. VETCH. You couldn’t wait one more day! You couldn’t even wait till they had hauled me off like trash before you put some old redheaded hussy in my room!
MR. NIBLIS. It sounds like Ramp to me. Those little stops and starts. I think Ramp must have slipped back into his room.
MR. MINGO. With his No Admittance sign hanging from the doorknob? I doubt it.
DELRAY. No, Mr. Ramp is not back in his room, and there is not one woman upstairs, tacky or otherwise. What you hear are the footsteps of the painter’s sons. Their father is missing and for some reason they’re trying to find him.
MR. MINGO. I hear measured steps, I don’t hear troubled steps. In a search for a lost father you expect to hear a more agitated tread.
DELRAY. Whatever they may sound like, those are the steps of the painter’s four or five sons. They’re looking under beds and in dark closets for their drunk Daddy.
MR. PALFREY. Listen to that, Lenore. Them old boys are trying to find their Daddy and you’re down here trying to lose yours.
LENORE. I am not. All I said was—
FERN. We heard what you said. We’re not deaf.
MR. PALFREY. Them old boys love their Daddy. They’re looking high and low for him and you’re down here trying to get shed of yours.
LENORE. I am not. I just happen to mention Avalon and everybody jumps all over me. What’s wrong with Avalon? It’s a nice place out in the woods. You like the woods, Daddy. You like to talk. You could talk and visit out there all day long with people your own age. They feed you good. They wait on you hand and foot. The days are full at Avalon. I wish I could go to a nice place like that and just mess around with arts and crafts all day. Boyce thinks that Special Value Package is the best deal we’ll ever get. And the thing is, it’s a limited offer.
FERN. She wants to put you away, Daddy. She wants to put you down just like she had Blanche put down.
MR. PALFREY. Blanche? No. It was some dog thief in Little Rock that made off with poor Blanche.
FERN. That’s what they told you.
LENORE. Blanche was old.
Pause.
MR. PALFREY. (Stunned) Then Blanche has been dead all this time.
LENORE. She was old and blind and sick, Daddy. It was her time to be put away.
FERN. She wasn’t that sick. She dragged one leg, that’s all.
MR. PALFREY. Poor old Blanche. I was hoping she had found a good home with a dry bed to sleep in.
LENORE. She was all wore out, Daddy. Her time had come. We have to face up to these things.
FERN. She wasn’t all that sick. She wasn’t any trouble. Blanche was just a little house dog who never bothered anybody.
LENORE. She bothered Boyce. He said she looked like a monkey.
Enter Marguerite, lugging two brown paper sacks from the barbecue joint. She is greeted with delight. There follows a bustle, with much chattering, as the sandwiches are sorted, distributed and eaten.
MARGUERITE. The pork sandwiches have one toothpick and the beefs have two. The real hot hot sauce is in the cup with the X on top.
Marguerite takes a sandwich to Tonya, who is still sitting in the wooden chair. Tonya eats and laughs as Marguerite begins to demonstrate the chicken walk, bobbing her head and throwing her feet out in stiff, measured steps. Mr. Palfrey looks at her and laughs, for the first time.
There are sudden noises in the corridor at the rear—raised voices, scuffling, a shriek, squeaking bedsprings. Mrs. Vetch and the others stop eating and turn their heads in alarm. Marguerite stops dancing.
FERN. My stars!
LENORE. What on earth!
MRS. VETCH. Are we to be spared nothing?
Enter young police detective from rear corridor, with the drunk painter and Mae Buttress in tow. She and the old painter are handcuffed together. They are dazed and stumbling. A trickle of blood runs down from Mae’s scalp, and there is blood on the knuckles of one hand. Blood is also running from the detective’s swollen lip.
DETECTIVE. (Dabbing at lip with handkerchief) Everyone stay calm. I’m with the state police. It’s all over. I’ve got Prentice and I’ve got his woman too.
MRS. VETCH. But that’s not Prentice! Look how old he is!
MR. MINGO. Isn’t that the missing house painter?
MR. PALFREY. It’s a police bust going down in this honky tonk!
DETECTIVE. Stay in your seats, please. Don’t interfere. Everything is under control. (Takes cellular telephone from belt and punches up a number. Speak into phone) Yeah, it’s me again at the New Moon. It’s all wrapped up. I’ve got Prentice in custody. He was here all the time. She was hiding him in the back. I caught ’em in bed. That sap is still wearing his jail whites.
MR. MINGO. I believe those are painters’ whites.
DETECTIVE. Stay out of this, sir. You’re perfectly safe now.
MR. MINGO. We know that but—
DETECTIVE. (Ignores him, resumes speakin
g into phone) Yeah, and Prentice is drunk too, or sick. He looks a lot older than his picture. I don’t know what these women see in him. I don’t know how he ever climbed over that fence. What?…Some resistance, yeah, but from her, not him. I had to pop her one and I’m bringing her in too. This Kate is a lot bigger woman than they told me. They didn’t tell me to look for a blue barrel.…Right. On the way. ’Bye. Out. (Puts phone away)
MRS. VETCH. But that’s not Prentice’s woman! That’s not Kate! You’ve got the wrong people! That’s Ruth Buttress! You can’t arrest Ruth Buttress!
DETECTIVE. Just keep calm, M’am. There’s no danger now.
MRS. VETCH. Yes, we know that, but—
MAE. (Groggy) Not Ruth Buttress. I am Mae Buttress…
DETECTIVE. (Gives sharp yank to handcuffs) And no more out of you!
Enter Delray, coming down stairs.
DELRAY. Who is this? What’s going on now?
MRS. VETCH. That man has just arrested Ruth Buttress and her elderly lover!
DELRAY. For what? (Tugs at detective’s sleeve) Wait! There’s some mistake! You’re not taking Ruth Buttress away, are you?
DETECTIVE. Stand back, you! Don’t you ever get between me and my prisoners! You so much as touch my clothes again and I’ll haul you in too, for battery!
DELRAY. But look, you don’t understand! This is Ruth Buttress, from Avalon. She’s here to carry these people off to an old folks home. Regrettable, yes, but what can you do? A regrettable necessity. They got old, okay? Is that my fault? And this old fellow here is my painter. Ask him. He can tell you. I’m having the place done up in an oyster shade.
DETECTIVE. Out of my way, pal.
MRS. VETCH. But you must have seen her on television! You can’t just come in here and arrest the Matron of Avalon!
LENORE. Look, Ruth’s knuckles are bloody.
MR. NIBLIS. Who did he say it was?
MRS. VETCH. It’s Ruth Buttress! Can’t you see? He’s put Ruth Buttress in handcuffs!
MR. NIBLIS. (Peering at them across the room) And Mole too? This is better and better.
FERN. I don’t think that’s Dr. Mole.
MRS. VETCH. Well, of course it isn’t! Dr. Mole would never make a house call in white overalls like that!
MAE. (Groggy) Ruth Buttress is my Mom, I tell you. I am Mae Buttress, from Receiving and—
DETECTIVE. (Yanks handcuffs again and holds a blackjack under nose) You want some more of this?
MAE. No…I don’t.
DETECTIVE. Better keep your trap shut then. You said you were subdued back there. Now are you subdued or not? (Shaking blackjack) Just let me know, Kate.
MAE. I’m subdued.
MRS. VETCH. But why does he keep calling her Kate? When we all know that Kate has gone away to her secret rendezvous?
MAE. (Licks blood on knuckles. Whispers) What a day!
The detective goes out the front door with his two prisoners. Delray follows, still protesting. Outside there are raised voices, then sounds of blows and grunts. Marguerite runs to the window to see what is happening.
MARGUERITE. (Her face at the window) Oh no, he’s hitting Delray!… This is terrible!…Oh y’all, somebody do something!…This is awful!…Now he’s knocked him down!…He’s got him down on the ground!…He’s got Delray laid out like a starfish in the handicap parking space and he’s beating the daylights out of him!
She dashes outside to intervene. Fern goes to join her. The fighting noises stop. Voices are heard, followed by the slamming of car doors, and then the sound of a car driving away. Delray re-enters, beaten and bloody, his clothes torn. Fern and Marguerite assist him to the sink behind the bar. They wipe at his face with damp cloths.
Sounds of a car driving up.
MARGUERITE. Oh no, it’s that policeman again! He’s coming back to get Delray!
FERN. (Looks at watch) No, I don’t think so. This must be Garland. It’s got to be him. (Calls over to Mr. Palfrey) Are you ready, Daddy? It’s Garland. We’re going home.
MR. PALFREY. What, back to Texarkana? You mean to stay?
FERN. Yes.
MR. PALFREY. But when will I get to see Tonya?
FERN. Lenore and Boyce can bring her down to visit sometime. If they can ever find the time.
LENORE. You’re so mean to me.
MR. PALFREY. I don’t know about this. What will Garland say?
FERN. Garland will do the right thing.
LENORE. And Boyce won’t?
FERN. It’s not in him, Lenore. Garland could teach you both some manners.
MR. MINGO. Unless it’s the second van. It might be that second van from Avalon.
MRS. VETCH. Oh my, I had forgotten all about that! There’s always another van!
Fern and Marguerite go to window and look out. Marguerite gives a yelp of recognition and dashes outside.
FERN. Well, shoot, it’s not Garland.
MRS. VETCH. Who then? Don’t say a van.
FERN. No, it’s some big rusty looking car. I don’t know who it is. They’re not getting out.
Marguerite returns breathless.
MARGUERITE. You know what? You’ll never guess! Miss Eula is back, in her old Shivalay [Chevrolet]!
MRS. VETCH. Miss Eula!
MARGUERITE. She’s with Mr. Ramp! They ran off and got married and have just got back from their honeymoon in Antlers, Oklahoma!
MRS. VETCH. What! No!
Mr. NIBLIS. What is Marguerite talking about?
MRS. VETCH. Can’t you let me catch my breath? She has the most distressing news! Can’t you let me collect my wits before you start in with all your questions?
MARGUERITE. I’ve got to run home and tell Mama this.
MR. MINGO. No, wait.
MRS. VETCH. She has a sister living in Antlers but I don’t understand this at all! I mean, why would she want to marry Mr. Ramp? I mean, surely you can go visit your sister in Antlers, Oklahoma, without having to marry Mr. Ramp!
MR. NIBLIS. Ramp? Have they caught Ramp? How far did he get?
MR. MINGO. Tell them to come on in, Marguerite, so we can offer our congratulations.
MARGUERITE. Miss Eula won’t get out of the car. She’s afraid y’all will laugh at ’em and make fun of ’em for getting married when they’re so old like that.
MRS. VETCH. We wouldn’t dream of laughing!
MR. MINGO. Oh, we’ll laugh a little bit. They have to expect that. A December bride has to expect some teasing.
MRS. VETCH. No, we won’t laugh either. Go back to Miss Eula, Marguerite, and tell her to come out of that car this instant! I want to hear all about this very strange elopement!
Marguerite goes out. Returns.
MARGUERITE. Miss Eula says let her think about it for a minute. She says Mr. Ramp is a mature man.
MR. MINGO. We can’t argue with that.
MARGUERITE. She says Mr. Ramp is a wonderful companion.
MR. MINGO. What does Mr. Ramp say?
MARGUERITE. He’s taking a nap in the back seat.
MR. MINGO. Ah. Already he’s gone to bed and turned his face to the wall. Is he clutching some small animal to his breast?
MARGUERITE. I don’t know. He’s kind of all bunched up back there.
MRS. VETCH. Tell Eula we all love her and we’ve missed her so much, and we want to see her. Nobody’s going to laugh.
MR. MINGO. You have my promise.
Marguerite goes out. Returns.
MARGUERITE. Miss Eula says Mr. Ramp is a wonderful companion but he can’t see to drive good anymore and she had to do all the driving to Antlers and back.
MR. MINGO. Yes, but are they coming in or not?
MARGUERITE. I don’t know. She’s trying to wake Mr. Ramp up.
MR. MINGO. Well, go help her. And then bring them in. Don’t take no for an answer. Drag them in if you have to.
MRS. VETCH. How does Miss Eula look?
MARGUERITE. Her cheeks are red with real thick rouge.
MR. NIBLIS. Tell her people are star
ving to death in here on cold barbecue. We never got our lunch, much less our breakfast.
Marguerite goes out.
MRS. VETCH. The very idea! Mr. Ramp! A suitor! Of all people! And that sly courtship was going on right under our noses!
MR. PALFREY. I told you he was a fox. Didn’t I tell you he smelled just like a fox? He married that old woman for her car.
FERN. For that car?
MR. PALFREY. There ain’t no two ways about it.
MR. NIBLIS. For her hotel, you mean. Delray has already got himself a nice car.
MRS. VETCH. Not Delray! She didn’t marry Delray, for goodness sakes! It’s bad enough as it is!
MR. MINGO. Not all that bad. She is not the bride of Satan, Mrs. Vetch.
MR. PALFREY. All these new people drive around in fine new automobiles that they can’t afford. I know that sorry crowd too well.
MR. NIBLIS. He doesn’t need another car. Delray has already got himself a nice car.
DELRAY. (Slumped behind bar, holding wet cloth to head) I have a car, Mr. Niblis. I do not have a nice car.
Marguerite returns.
MR. MINGO. Well?
MARGUERITE. Miss Eula says don’t rush her. She says Delray is two months behind in his payments.
DELRAY. Oh? And what else does Miss Eula have to say?
MARGUERITE. She wants her money, Delray, but she says you have one month to catch up.
Pause.
DELRAY. (Doesn’t reply to Marguerite. Looks about room, muses) The dance floor isn’t nearly big enough. I knew that all along.
MR. MINGO. Would you like to know where you went wrong, Delray?
DELRAY. No.
MR. MINGO. There was a moment—just a few weeks back—when you over-reached yourself.
DELRAY. I’d rather not hear about it.
MR. MINGO. It was a critical moment. Perhaps I should have spoken up at the time. Shall I tell you now about that pivotal moment?
DELRAY. No.
MR. MINGO. Then just let me review some of your policies—some of your more dubious policies—leading up to that fatal moment.
DELRAY. No, please don’t bother, Mr. Mingo.