The Price Page 7

  VICTOR: A choice, how?

  WALTER: You wanted a real life. And that’s an expensive thing; it costs. He has found his theme now; sees he has at last touched something in Victor. A breath of confidence comes through now. I know I may sound terribly nai’ve, but I’m still used to talking about anything that matters. Frankly, I didn’t answer your calls this week because I was afraid. I’ve struggled so long for a concept of myself and I’m not sure I can make it believable to you. But I’d like to. He sees permission to go on in Victor’s perplexed eyes: You see, I got to a certain point where … I dreaded my own work; I finally couldn’t cut. There are times, as you know, when if you leave someone alone he might live a year or two; while if you go hi you might kill him. And the decision is often … not quite, but almost … arbitrary. But the odds are acceptable, provided you think the right thoughts. Or don’t think at all, which I managed to do till then. Slight pause. He is no longer smiling; instead, a near-embarrassment is on turn. I ran into a cluster of misjudgments. It can happen, but it never had to me, not one on top of the other. And they had one thing in common; they’d all been diagnosed by other men as inoperable. And quite suddenly the … the whole prospect of my own motives opened up. Why had I taken risks that very competent men had declined? And the quick answer, of course, is—to pull off the impossible. Shame the competition. But suddenly I saw something else. And it was terror. In dead center, directing my brains, my hands, my ambition—for thirty years.

  Slight pause.

  VICTOR: Terror of what?

  Pause.

  WALTER, his gaze direct on Victor now: Of it ever happening to me—he glances at the center chair—as it happened to him. Overnight, for no reason, to find yourself degraded and thrown-down. With the faintest hint of impatience and challenge: You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?

  Victor turns away slightly, refusing commitment.

  Isn’t that why you turned your back- on it all?

  VICTOR, sensing the relevancy to himself now: Partly. Not altogether, though.

  WALTER: Vic, we were both running from the same thing. I thought I wanted to be tops, but what it was was untouchable. I ended in a swamp of success and bankbooks, you on civil service. The difference is that you haven’t hurt other people to defend yourself. And I’ve learned to respect that, Vic; you simply tried to make yourself useful.

  ESTHER: That’s wonderful—to come to such an understand-stand with yourself.

  WALTER: Esther, it’s a strange thing; in the hospital, for the first time since we were boys, I began to feel … like a brother. In the sense that we shared something. To Victor. And I feel I would know how to be friends now.

  VICTOR—slight pause; he is unsure: Well fine. I’m glad of that.

  WALTER—sees the reserve but feels he has made headway and presses on a bit more urgently: You see, that’s why you’re still so married. That’s a very rare thing. And why your boy’s in such good shape. You’ve lived a real life. To Esther: But you know that better than I.

  ESTHER: I don’t know what I know, Walter.

  WALTER: Don’t doubt it, dear—believe me, you’re fortunate people. To Victor: You know that, don’t you?

  VICTOR, without looking at Esther: I think so.

  ESTHER: It’s not quite as easy as you make it, Walter.

  WALTER—hesitates, then throws himself into it: Look, I’ve had a wild idea—it’ll probably seem absurd to you, but I wish you’d think about it before you dismiss it. I gather you haven’t decided what to do with yourself now? You’re retiring …?

  VICTOR: I’ll decide one of these days, I’m still thinking.

  WALTER, nervously: Could I suggest something?

  VICTOR: Sure, go ahead.

  WALTER: We’ve been interviewing people for the new wing. For the administrative side. Kind of liaison people between the scientists and the board. And it occurred to me several times that you might fit in there.

  Slight pause.

  ESTHER, with a release of expectation: That would be wonderful!

  VICTOR—slight pause. He glances at her with suppression, but his voice betrays excitement: What could I do there, though?

  WALTER, sensing Victor’s interest: It’s kind of fluid at the moment, but there’s a place for people with a certain amount of science who—

  VICTOR: I have no degree, you know.

  WALTER: But you’ve had analytic chemistry, and a lot of math and physics, if I recall. If you thought you needed it you could take some courses in the evenings. I think you have enough background.—How would you feel about that?

  VICTOR, digging in against the temptation: Well … I’d like to know more about it, sure.

  ESTHER, as though to press him to accept: It’d be great if he could work in science, it’s really the only thing he ever wanted.

  WALTER: I know; it’s a pity he never went on with it. Turning to Victor: It’d be perfectly simple, Vic, I’m chairman of the committee. I could set it all up—

  Solomon enters. They turn to him, surprised. He seems about to say something, but in fear changes his mind.

  SOLOMON: Excuse me, go right ahead. He goes nervously to his portfolio, reaching into it—which was not his original intention. I’m sorry to disturb you. He takes out an orange and starts back to the bedroom, then halts, addressing Walter: About the harp. If you’ll make me a straight out-and-out sale, I would be willing to go another fifty dollars. So it’s eleven fifty, and between the two of you nobody has to do any favors.

  WALTER: Well, you’re getting warmer.

  SOLOMON: I’m a fair person! So you don’t have to bother with the appraisal and deductions, all right? Before Walter can answer: But don’t rush, I’ll wait. I’m at your service. He goes quickly and worriedly into the bedroom.

  ESTHER, starting to laugh; to Victor: Where did you find him?

  WALTER: —that wonderful? He “made it all ethical!”

  Esther bursts out laughing, and Walter with her, and Victor manages to join. As it begins to subside, Walter turns to him.

  What do you say, Vic? Will you come by?

  The laughter is gone. The smile is just fading on Victor’s face. He looks at nothing, as though deciding. The pause lengthens, and lengthens still. Now it begins to seem he may not speak at all. No one knows how to break into his puzzling silence. At last he turns to Walter with a rather quick movement of his head as though he had made up his mind to take the step.

  VICTOR: I’m not sure I know what you want, Walter.

  Walter looks shocked, astonished, almost unbelieving. But Victor’s gaze is steady on him.

  ESTHER, with a tone of the conciliator shrouding her shock and protest: I don’t think that’s being very fair, is it?

  VICTOR: Why is it unfair? We’re talking about some pretty big steps here. To Walter: Not that I don’t appreciate it, Walter, but certain things have happened, haven’t they? With a half laugh: It just seems odd to suddenly be talking about—

  WALTER, downing his resentment: I’d hoped we could take one step at a time, that’s all. It’s very complicated between us, I think, and it seemed to me we might just try to—

  VICTOR: I know, but you can understand it would be a little confusing.

  WALTER—unwillingly, anger peaks his voice: What do you find confusing?

  VICTOR—considers for a moment, but he cannot go back: You must have some idea, don’t you?

  WALTER: This is a little astonishing, Victor. After all these years you can’t expect to settle everything in one conversation, can you? I simply felt that with a little good will we … we … He sees Victor’s adamant poise. Oh, the hell with it. He goes abruptly and snatches up his coat and one of the evening gowns. Get what you can’ from the old man, I don’t want any of it. He goes and extends his hand to Esther, forcing a smile. I’m sorry, Esther. It was nice seeing you anyway.

  Sickened, she accepts his hand.

  Maybe I’ll see you again, Vic. Good luck. He starts for the door. There are t
ears in his eyes.

  ESTHER, before she can think: Walter?

  Walter halts and turns to her questioningly. She looks to Victor helplessly. But he cannot think either.

  WALTER: I don’t accept this resentment, Victor. It simply baffles me. I don’t understand it. I just want you to know how I feel.

  ESTHER, assuaging: It’s not resentment, Walter.

  VICTOR: The whole thing is a little fantastic to me, that’s all. I haven’t cracked a book in twenty-five years, how do I walk into a research laboratory?

  ESTHER: But Walter feels that you have enough background—

  VICTOR, almost laughing over his quite concealed anger at her: I know less chemistry than most high-school kids, Esther. To Walter: And physics, yet! Good God, Walter. He laughs. Where you been?

  WALTER: I’m sure you could make a place for yourself—

  VICTOR: What place? Running papers from one office to another?

  WALTER: You’re not serious.

  VICTOR: Why? Sooner or later my being your brother is not going to mean very much, is it? I’ve been walking a beat for twenty-eight years, I’m not qualified for anything technical. What’s this all about?

  WALTER: Why do you keep asking what it’s about? I’ve been perfectly open with you, Victor!

  VICTOR: I don’t think you have.

  WALTER: Why! What do you think I’m—?

  VICTOR: Well, when you say what you said a few minutes ago, I—

  WALTER: What did I say?!

  VICTOR, with a resolutely cool smile: What a pity it was that I didn’t go on with science.

  WALTER, puzzled: What’s wrong with that?

  VICTOR, laughing: Oh, Walter, come on, now!

  WALTER: But I feel that. I’ve always felt that.

  VICTOR, smiling still, and pointing at the center chair; a new reverberation sounds in his voice: There used to be a man in that chair, staring into space. Don’t you remember that?

  WALTER: Very well, yes. I sent him money every month.

  VICTOR: You sent him five dollars every month.

  WALTER: I could afford five dollars. But what’s that got to do with you?

  VICTOR: What it’s got to do with me!

  WALTER: Yes, I don’t see that.

  VICTOR: Where did you imagine the rest of his living was coming from?

  WALTER: Victor, that was your decision, not mine.

  VICTOR: My decision!

  WALTER: We had a long talk in this room once, Victor.

  VICTOR, not recalling: What talk?

  WALTER, astonished: Victor! We came to a complete understanding—just after you moved up here with Dad. I told you then that I was going to finish my schooling come hell or high water, and I advised you to do the same. In fact, I warned you not to allow him to strangle your life. To ESTHER: And if I’m not mistaken I told you the same at your wedding, Esther.

  VICTOR, with an incredulous laugh: Who the hell was supposed to keep him alive, Walter?

  WALTER, with a strange fear, more than anger: Why did anybody have to? He wasn’t sick. He was perfectly fit to go to work.

  VICTOR: Work? In 1936? With no skill, no money?

  WALTER—outburst: Then he could have gone on welfare! Who was he, some exiled royalty? What did a hundred and fifty million other people do in 1936? He’d have survived, Victor. Good God, you must know that by now, don’t you?!

  Slight pause.

  VICTOR—suddenly at the edge of fury, and caught by Walter’s voicing his own opinion, he turns to Esther: I’ve had enough of this, Esther; it’s the same old thing all over again, let’s get out of here. He starts rapidly upstage toward the bedroom.

  WALTER, quickly: Vic! Please! He catches Victor, who frees his arm. I’m not running him down. I loved him in many ways—

  ESTHER, as though conceding her earlier position: Vic, listen —maybe you ought to talk about it.

  VICTOR: It’s all pointless! The whole thing doesn’t matter to me! He turns to go to the bedroom.

  WALTER: He exploited you!

  Victor halts, turns to him, his anger full in his face.

  Doesn’t that matter to you?

  VICTOR: Let’s get one thing straight, Walter—I am nobody’s victim.

  WALTER: But that’s exactly what I’ve tried to tell you. I’m not trying to condescend.

  VICTOR: Of course you are. Would you be saying any of this if I’d made a pile of money somewhere? Dead stop. I’m sorry, Walter, I can’t take that. I made no choice; the icebox was empty and the man was sitting there with his mouth open. Slight pause. I didn’t start this, Walter, and the whole thing doesn’t interest me, but when you talk about making choices, and I should have gone on with science, I have to say something.—Just because you want things a certain way doesn’t make them that way. He has ended at a point distant from Walter.

  A slight pause.

  WALTER, with affront mixed into his trepidation: All right then … How do you see it?

  VICTOR: Look, you’ve been sick, Walter, why upset yourself with all this?

  WALTER: It’s important to me!

  VICTOR, trying to smile—and in a friendly way: But why? It’s all over the dam. He starts toward the bedroom again.

  ESTHER: I think he’s come to you in good faith, Victor.

  He turns to her angrily, but she braves his look.

  I don’t see why you can’t consider his offer.

  VICTOR: I said I’d consider it.

  ESTHER, restraining a cry: You know you’re turning it down! In a certain fear of him, but persisting: I mean what’s so dreadful about telling the truth, can it be any worse than this?

  VICTOR: What “truth?” What are you—?

  Solomon suddenly appears from the bedroom,

  ESTHER: For God’s sake, now what?

  SOLOMON: I just didn’t want you to think I wouldn’t make the appraisal; I will, I’ll do it—

  ESTHER, pointing to the bedroom: Will you please leave us alone!

  SOLOMON, suddenly, his underlying emotion coming through; indicating Victor: What do you want from him! He’s a policeman! I’m a dealer, Jie’s a doctor, and he’s a policeman, so what’s the good you’ll tear him to pieces?!

  ESTHER: Well, one of us has got to leave this room, Victor.

  SOLOMON: Please, Esther, let me … Going quickly to Walter: Doctor, listen to me, take my advice—stop it. What can come of this? In the first place, if you take the deduction how do you know in two, three years they wouldn’t come back to you, whereby they disallow it? I don’t have to tell you, the Federal Government is not reliable. I understand very well you want to be sweet to him—to Esther—but can be two, three years before you’ll know how sweet they’re going to allow him. To Victor and Walter: In other words, what I’m trying to bring out, my boys, is that—

  ESTHER: —you want the furniture.

  SOLOMON, shouting at her: Esther, if I didn’t want it I wouldn’t buy it! But what can they settle here? It’s still up to the Federal Government, don’t you see? If they can’t settle nothing they should stop it right now! With a look of warning and alarm in his eyes: Now please—do what I tell you! I’m not a fool! He walks out into the bedroom, shaking.

  WALTER: after a moment: I guess he’s got a point, Vic. Why don’t you just sell it to him; maybe then we can sit down and talk sometime. Glancing at the furniture: It isn’t really a very conducive atmosphere.—Can I call you?

  VICTOR: Sure.

  ESTHER: You’re both fantastic. She tries to laugh. We’re giving this furniture away because nobody’s able to say the simplest things. You’re incredible, the both of you.

  WALTER, a little shamed: It isn’t that easy, Esther.

  ESTHER: Oh, what the hell—I’ll say it. When he went to you, Walter, for the five hundred he needed to get his degree—

  VICTOR: Esther! There’s no—

  ESTHER: It’s one of the things standing between you, isn’t it? Maybe Walter can clear it up. I mean … Good God, is there ne
ver to be an end? To Walter, without pause: Because it stunned him, Walter. He’ll never say it, but—she takes the plunge—he hadn’t the slightest doubt you’d lend it to him. So when you turned him down—

  VICTOR, as though it wearies him: Esther, he was just starting out—

  ESTHER, in effect, taking her separate road: Not the way you told me! Please let me finish! To Walter: You already had the house in Rye, you were perfectly well established, weren’t you?

  VICTOR: So what? He didn’t feel he could—

  WALTER, with a certain dread, quietly: No, no, I … I could have spared the money … He sits slowly. Please, Vic— sit down, it’ll only take a moment.

  VICTOR: I just don’t see any point in—

  WALTER: No—no; maybe it’s just as well to talk now. We’ve never talked about this. I think perhaps we have to. Slight pause. Toward Esther: It was, despicable; but I don’t think I can leave it quite that way. Slight pause. Two or three days afterward—to Victor—after you came to see me, I phoned to offer you the money. Did you know that?

  Slight pause.

  VICTOR: Where’d you phone?

  WALTER: Here. I spoke to Dad.

  Slight pause. Victor sits.

  I saw that I’d acted badly, and I—

  VICTOR: You didn’t act badly—

  WALTER, with a sudden flight of his voice: It was frightful! He gathers himself against his past. We’ll have another talk, won’t we? I wasn’t prepared to go into all this….

  Victor is expressionless.

  In any case … when I called here he told me you’d joined the Force. And I said—he mustn’t permit you to do a thing like that. I said—you had a fine mind and with a little luck you could amount to something in science. That it was a terrible waste. Etcetera. And his answer was—“Victor wants to help me. I can’t stop him.”

  Pause.