Long Day's Journey Into Night Page #10

Do you remember our wedding?

The wedding dear?

I... I... haven't made such a bad wife, have I?

I'm not complaining Mary.

At least I've loved you dearly and I've done the best I could under th circumstances.

That wedding gown...

was nearly the death of me.

And the dressmaker too.

I was so particular, it was never quite good enough.

At last she said she said she refused to touch it anymore "it might spoil it"

so I made her leave so I could be alone to examine myself in the mirror.

I was so pleased and vain.

I thought to myself "you're just as pretty as any actress he's ever met

and you don't have to use paint".

Whe... where is my wedding gown now I wonder.

I...I... I kept it wrapped up in tissue paper in my trunk.

I hoped someday I'd have a daughter and when it came time for her to marry

she couldn't afford a lovely gown

and I knew James, you'd never tell her "never mind the cost".

You'd want her to pick up something at a bargain.

It was made of soft shimmering satin

trimmed with wonderful old duchess lace around the neck and sleaves

worked in with the folds that were drapped around in a bustle effect at the back.

The bust was bound and very tight and then I...

I held my breath when it was fitted so my waist would be as small as possible.

My... my father...

...my father...

even let me have lace on my white satin slippers and lace with

orange blossoms in my veil.

How I loved that gown!

It was so...

...beautiful.

Where is it now I wonder.

I... I... I...

I used to take it out from time to time when I was lonely.

But it always made me cry and so...

finnally a long while ago... I wonder where I hid it?

Probably in some old trunk in the attic, someday I must have a look.

Well isn't it dinner time dear?

You're ever scolding me for being late but now

I'm on time for once, it's dinner that's late.

Well if I can't eat yet, I can drink. I forgot I had this.

Who's been tampering with my whiskey?

The damn stuff is half water.

Any fool can tell.

Mary, answer me.

- I hope to God you haven't taken to drink on top of...

- Shut up Papa!

You treated Cathleen and Bridget, isn't that it?

Yes. Yes I wanted to treat Cathleen because I had her drive

uptown with me and sent her to get my prescription filled.

For God's sake Mama! You can't trust her.

- You want everyone on earth to know?

- Know what?

That I suffer from rheumatism in my hands

and have to take medicine to kill the pain?

Why should I be ashamed of that?

I never knew what rheumatism was before you were bo...born.

Ask your father.

Don't mind her lad, it doesn't mean anything. When it gets to the stage where

she gives the old crazy excuse about her hands she's gone far away from us.

I'm glad you realize that James.

Now perhaps you'll give up trying to remind me.

You and...

...Edmund.

Why don't you light the lights James?

It's getting dark.

I know you hate to but Edmund has proved

to you that one bulb burning doesn't cost much.

It's too bad you let your fear of the poor house make you too stingy.

I never claimed one bulb costed much.

It's having them on one here one there makes the electric light company rich.

I'm a fool to talk sense to you.

I'll get a fresh bottle of whiskey lad.

We'll have a real drink.

He'll sneak around....

...the outside cellar door so the...

...servants won't see him.

He's really ashamed of keeping his whiskey pad-locked in the cellar.

Your father is a strange man.

Took many years before I understood him. His father deserted his mother

and their six children a year or so after they came to America.

He told them he had a premonition he would die soon. He was homesick

for Ireland and wanted to go there to die so he went and he did die.

He must have been a peculiar man too.

- Your father had to go to work in a machine shop when he was only ten years...

- For pete's sake Mama!

- Heard Papa tell that story ten thousand times.

- Yes dear. You've had to listen. But I don't think you ever tried to understand.

Listen Mama.

You're not so far gone yet that you've forgotten everything

You haven't asked me what I found out this afternoon.

Don't you care a damn?

- Don't say that. You hurt me dear.

- What I've got is serious Mama.

- Doc Hardy knows for sure.

- That lying old quack! I warned you he'd invent...

- He called in a specialist to examine me...

- Don't tell me about doctor Hardy.

- ... so he'd be absolutely sure.

- If you'd heard what the doctor in the sanitorium who really know something

said about how he treated me. He said it was a wonder I hadn't gone mad!

I told him I had once, that time I ran down in my nightdress to throw

myself off the dock. You remember that don't you?

- And you want me to pay attention to what doctor Hardy says? Oh no.

- Listen Mama! I'm gonna tell you whether you want to hear it or not.

I've got to go away to a sanitorium.

No!

How dare your father allow him.

You're my baby.

I know why he wants to send you to a sanitarium. To take you away from me.

He's been jealous of everyone of my babies and you most of all.

- He knows I love you most because your my...

- Stop talking crazy, can't you Mama?

And stop trying to blame him.

And why are you so against my going away now?

I've been away a lot and I've never noticed it broke your heart.

I'm afraid you're not... very sensitive dear.

You ought to have guessed that...

after I knew you knew... about me...

I had to be glad whenever you were away you couldn't see me.

Don't Mama.

All this talk about...

loving me the more I try to tell you how sick I am.

You're so like your father dear.

Love to be dramatic and tragic so you can make a scene out of nothing.

If I gave you the slightest encouragement you'd tell me next you're gonna die.

- People do die of it. Your own father...

- Why...why do you mention him?

No comparison at all. With him he had consumption.

I hate it when you become morbid and gloomy.

I forbid you to remind me of my father's death do you hear?

Yes I hear you. I wish to God I didn't.

It's... hard to take at times... having... a dope fiend for a mother.

Forgive me Mama.

I was angry... and you hurt me.

Just listen to that... foghorn.

And the bells.

Why is it... fog makes everything sound so sad,

...lost?

I wonder.

I can't say.

I don't want any dinner.

I haven't taken enough I have to go upstairs.

I hope sometime without...

...meaning to or...

...take an overdose.

Could never do it deliberately.

The blessed virgin would never forgive me.

The pad lock is all scratched. That drunken loafer

has tried to pick the lock with a piece of wire

the way he's done before but I fooled him this time.

It's a special pad lock a professional burglar couldn't pick.

Where's Edmund?

He went out.

Perhaps he's gone uptown to find Jamie.

He still had some money left.

I suppose it's burning a hole in his pocket.

He said he didn't want any dinner.

Doesn't seem to have any appetite these days.

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