Broken Glass Read online

  GELLBURG : Listen, I sympathize with these refugees, but ...

  HYMAN, cutting him off: I had quite a long talk with Sylvia yesterday, I suppose she told you?

  GELLBURG, a tensing: Well ... no, she didn’t mention. What about?

  HYMAN, surprised by Sylvia’s omission: ... Well about her condition, and ... just in passing ... your relationship.

  GELLBURG, flushing: My relationship?

  HYMAN: ... It was just in passing.

  GELLBURG: Why, what’d she say?

  HYMAN: Well that you ... get along very well.

  GELLBURG: Oh.

  HYMAN, encouragingly, as he sees Gellburg’s small tension: I found her a remarkably well-informed woman. Especially for this neighborhood.

  GELLBURG, a pridefully approving nod; relieved that he can speak of her positively: That’s practically why we got together in the first place. I don’t exaggerate, if Sylvia was a man she could have run the Federal Reserve. You could talk to Sylvia like you talk to a man.

  HYMAN: I’ll bet.

  GELLBURG, a purse-mouthed grin: ... Not that talking was all we did-but you turn your back on Sylvia and she’s got her nose in a book or a magazine. I mean there’s not one woman in ten around here could even tell you who their Congressman is. And you can throw in the men, too. Pause. So where are we?

  HYMAN: Doctor Sherman confirms my diagnosis. I ask you to listen carefully, will you?

  GELLBURG, brought up: Of course, that’s why I came.

  HYMAN: We can find no physical reason for her inability to walk.

  GELLBURG: No physical reason ...

  HYMAN: We are almost certain that this is a psychological condition.

  GELLBURG: But she’s numb, she has no feeling in her legs.

  HYMAN: Yes. This is what we call an hysterical paralysis. Hysterical doesn’t mean she screams and yells ...

  GELLBURG: Oh, I know. It means like ... ah ... Bumbles off.

  HYMAN, a flash of umbrage, dislike: Let me explain what it means, okay?—Hysteria comes from the Greek word for the womb because it was thought to be a symptom of female anxiety. Of course it isn’t, but that’s where it comes from. People who are anxious enough or really frightened can imagine they’ve gone blind or deaf, for instance ... and they really can’t see or hear. It was sometimes called shell-shock during the War.

  GELLBURG: You mean ... you don’t mean she’s... crazy.

  HYMAN: We’ll have to talk turkey, Phillip. If I’m going to do you any good I’m going to have to ask you some personal questions. Some of them may sound raw, but I’ve only been superficially acquainted with Sylvia’s family and I need to know more...

  GELLBURG: She says you treated her father ...

  HYMAN: Briefly; a few visits shortly before he passed away. They’re fine people. I hate like hell to see this happen to her, you see what I mean?

  GELLBURG: You can tell it to me; is she crazy?

  HYMAN: Phillip, are you? Am I? In one way or another, who isn’t crazy? The main difference is that our kind of crazy still allows us to walk around and tend to our business. But who knows?-people like us may be the craziest of all.

  GELLBURG, scoffing grin: Why!

  HYMAN: Because we don’t know we’re nuts, and the other kind does.

  GELLBURG: I don’t know about that ...

  HYMAN: Well, it’s neither here nor there.

  GELLBURG: I certainly don’t think I’m nuts.

  HYMAN: I wasn’t saying that...

  GELLBURG: What do you mean, then?

  HYMAN, grinning: You’re not an easy man to talk to, are you.

  GELLBURG: Why? If I don’t understand I have to ask, don’t I?

  HYMAN: Yes, you’re right.

  GELLBURG: That’s the way I am—they don’t pay me for being easy to talk to.

  HYMAN: You’re in ... real estate?

  GELLBURG: I’m head of the Mortgage Department of Brooklyn Guarantee and Trust.

  HYMAN: Oh, that’s right, she told me.

  GELLBURG: We are the largest lender east of the Mississippi.

  HYMAN: Really. Fighting deflation. Well, let me tell you my approach; if possible I’d like to keep her out of that whole psychiatry rigmarole. Not that I’m against it, but I think you get further faster, sometimes, with a little common sense and some plain human sympathy. Can we talk turkey? Tuchas offen tisch, you know any Yiddish?

  GELLBURG: Yes, it means get your ass on the table.

  HYMAN: Correct. So let’s forget crazy and try to face the facts. We have a strong, healthy woman who has no physical ailment, and suddenly can’t stand on her legs. Why?

  He goes silent. Gellburg shifts uneasily.

  I don’t mean to embarrass you...

  GELLBURG, an angry smile: You’re not embarrassing me.—What do you want to know?

  HYMAN, sets himself, then launches: In these cases there is often a sexual disability. You have relations, I imagine?

  GELLBURG: Relations? Yes, we have relations.

  HYMAN, a softening smile: Often?

  GELLBURG: What’s that got to do with it?

  HYMAN: Sex could be connected. You don’t have to answer...

  GELLBURG: No-no it’s all right.... I would say it depends—maybe twice, three times a week.

  HYMAN, seems surprised: Well that’s good. She seems satisfied?

  GELLBURG, shrugs; hostilely: I guess she is, sure.

  HYMAN: That was a foolish question, forget it.

  GELLBURG, flushed: Why, did she mention something about this?

  HYMAN: Oh no, it’s just something I thought of later.

  GELLBURG: Well, I’m no Rudolph Valentino but I ...

  HYMAN: Rudolph Valentino probably wasn’t either.-What about before she collapsed; was that completely out of the blue or ...

  GELLBURG, relieved to be off the other subject: I tell you, looking back I wonder if something happened when they started putting all the pictures in the paper. About these Nazi carryings-on. I noticed she started... staring at them ... in a very peculiar way. And ... I don’t know. I think it made her angry or something.

  HYMAN: At you.

  GELLBURG: Well ... Nods, agreeing. In general.—Personally I don’t think they should be publishing those kind of pictures.

  HYMAN: Why not?

  GELLBURG: She scares herself to death with them—three thousand miles away, and what does it accomplish! Except maybe put some fancy new ideas into these anti-Semites walking around New York here.

  Slight pause.

  HYMAN: Tell me how she collapsed. You were going to the movies ... ?

  GELLBURG, breathing more deeply: Yes. We were just starting down the porch steps and all of a sudden her ... Difficulty; he breaks off.

  HYMAN: I’m sorry but I ...

  GELLBURG: ... Her legs turned to butter. I couldn’t stand her up. Kept falling around like a rag doll. I had to carry her into the house. And she kept apologizing ... ! He weeps; recovers. I can’t talk about it.

  HYMAN: It’s all right.

  GELLBURG: She’s always been such a level-headed woman. Weeping threatens again. I don’t know what to do. She’s my life.

  HYMAN: I’ll do my best for her, Phillip, she’s a wonderful woman.—Let’s talk about something else. What do you do exactly?

  GELLBURG: I mainly evaluate properties.

  HYMAN: Whether to grant a mortgage...

  GELLBURG: And how big a one and the terms.

  HYMAN: How’s the Depression hit you?

  GELLBURG: Well, it’s no comparison with ’32 to ’36, let’s say—we were foreclosing left and right in those days. But we’re on our feet and running.

  HYMAN: And you head the department ...

  GELLBURG: Above me is only Mr. Case. Stanton Wylie Case; he’s chairman and president. You’re not interested in boat racing.

  HYMAN: Why?

  GELLBURG: His yacht won the America’s Cup two years ago. For the second time. The Aurora?

  HYMAN: Oh yes! I thin
k I read about ...

  GELLBURG: He’s had me aboard twice.

  HYMAN: Really.

  GELLBURG, the grin: The only Jew ever set foot on that deck.

  HYMAN: Don’t say.

  GELLBURG: In fact, I’m the only Jew ever worked for Brooklyn Guarantee in their whole history.

  HYMAN: That so.

  GELLBURG: Oh yes. And they go back to the 1890s. Started right out of accountancy school and moved straight up. They’ve been wonderful to me; it’s a great firm.

  A long moment as Hyman stares at Gellburg, who is proudly positioned now, absorbing his poise from the evoked memories of his success. Gradually Gellburg turns to him.

  How could this be a mental condition?

  HYMAN: It’s unconscious; like... well take yourself; I notice you’re all in black. Can I ask you why?

  GELLBURG: I’ve worn black since high school.

  HYMAN: No particular reason.

  GELLBURG, shrugs: Always liked it, that’s all.

  HYMAN: Well it’s a similar thing with her; she doesn’t know why she’s doing this, but some very deep, hidden part of her mind is directing her to do it. You don’t agree.

  GELLBURG: I don’t know.

  HYMAN: You think she knows what she’s doing?

  GELLBURG: Well I always liked black for business reasons.

  HYMAN: It gives you authority?

  GELLBURG: Not exactly authority, but I wanted to look a little older. See, I graduated high school at fifteen and I was only twenty-two when I entered the firm. But I knew what I was doing.

  HYMAN: Then you think she’s doing this on purpose?

  GELLBURG:—Except she’s numb; nobody can purposely do that, can they?

  HYMAN: I don’t think so.—I tell you, Phillip, not really knowing your wife, if you have any idea why she could be doing this to herself ...

  GELLBURG: I told you, I don’t know.

  HYMAN: Nothing occurs to you.

  GELLBURG, an edge of irritation: I can’t think of anything.

  HYMAN: I tell you a funny thing, talking to her, she doesn’t seem all that unhappy.

  GELLBURG: Say!—yes, that’s what I mean. That’s exactly what I mean. It’s like she’s almost... I don’t know ... enjoying herself. I mean in a way.

  HYMAN: How could that be possible?

  GELLBURG: Of course she apologizes for it, and for making it hard for me—you know, like I have to do a lot of the cooking now, and tending to my laundry and so on ... I even shop for groceries and the butcher ... and change the sheets ...

  He breaks off with some realization. Hyman doesn’t speak. A long pause.

  You mean ... she’s doing it against me?

  HYMAN: I don’t know, what do you think?

  Stares for a long moment, then makes to rise, obviously deeply disturbed.

  GELLBURG: I’d better be getting home. Lost in his own thought. I don’t know whether to ask you this or not.

  HYMAN: What’s to lose, go ahead.

  GELLBURG: My parents were from the old country, you know,—I don’t know if it was in Poland someplace or Russia—but there was this woman who they say was ... you know ... gotten into by a ... like the ghost of a dead person...

  HYMAN: A dybbuk.

  GELLBURG: That’s it. And it made her lose her mind and so forth. -You believe in that? They had to get a rabbi to pray it out of her body. But you think that’s possible?

  HYMAN: Do I think so? No. Do you?

  GELLBURG: Oh no. It just crossed my mind.

  HYMAN: Well I wouldn’t know how to pray it out of her, so ...

  GELLBURG: Be straight with me—is she going to come out of this?

  HYMAN: Well, let’s talk again after I see her tomorrow. Maybe I should tell you ... I have this unconventional approach to illness, Phillip. Especially where the mental element is involved. I believe we get sick in twos and threes and fours, not alone as individuals. You follow me? I want you to do me a favor, will you?

  GELLBURG: What’s that.

  HYMAN: You won’t be offended, okay?

  GELLBURG, tensely: Why should I be offended?

  HYMAN: I’d like you to give her a lot of loving. Fixing Gellburg in his gaze. Can you? It’s important now.

  GELLBURG: Say, you’re not blaming this on me, are you?

  HYMAN: What’s the good of blame?—from here on out, tuchas offen tisch, okay? And Phillip?

  GELLBURG: Yes?

  HYMAN, a light chuckle: Try not to let yourself get mad.

  Gellburg turns and goes out. Hyman returns to his desk, makes some notes. Margaret enters.

  MARGARET: That’s one miserable little pisser.

  He writes, doesn’t look up.

  He’s a dictator, you know. I was just remembering when I went to the grandmother’s funeral? He stands outside the funeral parlor and decides who’s going to sit with who in the limousines for the cemetery. “You sit with him, you sit with her...” And they obey him like he owned the funeral!

  HYMAN: Did you find out what’s playing?

  MARGARET: At the Beverly they’ve got Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. Jimmy Cagney’s at the Rialto but it’s another gangster story.

  HYMAN: I have a sour feeling about this thing. I barely know my way around psychiatry. I’m not completely sure I ought to get into it.

  MARGARET: Why not?-She’s a very beautiful woman.

  HYMAN, matching her wryness: Well, is that a reason to turn her away? He laughs, grasps her hand. Something about it fascinates me—no disease and she’s paralyzed. I’d really love to give it a try. I mean I don’t want to turn myself into a post office, shipping all the hard cases to specialists, the woman’s sick and I’d like to help.

  MARGARET: But if you’re not getting anywhere in a little while you’ll promise to send her to somebody.

  HYMAN: Absolutely. Committed now: full enthusiasm. I just feel there’s something about it that I understand.—Let’s see Cagney.

  MARGARET: Oh, no Fred Astaire.

  HYMAN: That’s what I meant. Come here.

  MARGARET, as he embraces her: We should leave now ...

  HYMAN: You’re the best, Margaret.

  MARGARET: A lot of good it does me.

  HYMAN: If it really bothers you I’ll get someone else to take the case.

  MARGARET: You won’t, you know you won’t.

  He is lifting her skirt

  Don’t, Harry. Come on.

  She frees her skirt, he kisses her breasts.

  HYMAN: Should I tell you what I’d like to do with you?

  MARGARET: Tell me, yes, tell me. And make it wonderful.

  HYMAN: We find an island and we strip and go riding on this white horse...

  MARGARET: Together.

  HYMAN: You in front.

  MARGARET: Naturally.

  HYMAN: And then we go swimming ...

  MARGARET: Harry, that’s lovely.

  HYMAN: And I hire this shark to swim very close and we just manage to get out of the water, and we’re so grateful to be alive we fall down on the beach together and...

  MARGARET, pressing his lips shut: Sometimes you’re so good. She kisses him.

  Blackout.

  SCENE TWO

  The Lone Cellist plays. Then lights go down ...

  Next evening. The Gellburg bedroom. Sylvia Gellburg is seated in a wheelchair reading a newspaper. She is in her mid-forties, a buxom, capable, and warm woman. Right now her hair is brushed down to her shoulders, and she is in a nightgown and robe.

  She reads the paper with an intense, almost haunted interest, looking up now and then to visualize.

  Her sister Harriet, a couple of years younger, is straightening up the bedcover.