Marty Page #12

CATHERINE:

She's a witch, that one. I tell you

what happen yesterday?

MRS. PILLETTI

What happen?

CATHERINE:

She gave me the evil eye.

She demonstrates this by pulling the lower lid of one eye

down and staring grotesquely at the ceiling.

MRS. PILLETTI

(scoffing)

Ufa!

CATHERINE:

I keep one eye open when I sleep,

because she's gonna come in, stab me

in my bed.

MRS. PILLETTI

Catherine, I want you come live in

my house with Marty and me.

Her sister turns, genuinely surprised at this request.

CATHERINE:

Ah?

MRS. PILLETTI

You son Thomas and Virginia, they

come to my house this afternoon...

CATHERINE:

(sharply)

Who?

MRS. PILLETTI

Your son Thomas and his wife

Virginia...

CATHERINE:

When was this?

MRS. PILLETTI

This afternoon, about four, five

o'clock.

CATHERINE:

What they say?

MRS. PILLETTI

You know what they say. They say

things are no good in this house.

Catherine, your son is married. Leave

him in peace. He wantsa be alone

with his wife. They don't want no

old lady sitting inna balcony. Now I

tell you what I think. I want you

come live with me in my house with

Marty and me. In my house, you have

your own room. You don't have to

sleep onna couch inna living room

like here. We will cook inna kitchen

and talk like when we were girls.

You are dear to me, and you are dear

to Marty. We are pleased for you to

come.

Catherine surveys her sister coldly.

CATHERINE:

My son Thomas came to see you this

afternoon, and he said to you he

wants to cast his mother from his

house?

MRS. PILLETTI

Catherine, don't make an opera outta

this. The three-a you anna baby live

in three skinny rooms. You are an

old goat, and she has an Italian

temper. She is a good girl, but you

drive her crazy. Catherine, you are

no fool. You know this is no good,

an old woman living with a husband

and wife. Two women inna same kitchen,

anna house burns down.

Catherine stands abruptly. She is deeply hurt.

CATHERINE:

So I am an old garbage bag, put inna

street.

MRS. PILLETTI

Oh, Catherine, please! Don't make a

tragedy. You come to my house where

you know you be happier yourself.

CATHERINE:

It pains that they should do this.

MRS. PILLETTI

I know it pains.

Catherine turns and meanders a few steps. The stiff edge of

mordant humor that has been her one defense against life has

deserted her, and she is just a hurt old lady now.

CATHERINE:

These are the worst years, I tell

you.

She seats herself on an Eames chair. On her right, a Modern-

Age lamp towers slimly. On her left is a Modern-Age endtable

with a Modern-Age ashtray on it. The hardened muscles in her

face suddenly slacken.

MRS. PILLETTI

(with deep compassion)

Catherine, you are very dear to me.

We have cried many times together.

When my husband died, I would have

gone insane if it were not for you.

I ask you to come to my house, because

I can make you happy. Please come to

my house.

CATHERINE:

These are the worst years. I tell

you. It's gonna happen to you. I'm

afraida look inna mirror. I'm afraid

I'm gonna see an old lady with white

hair, like the old ladies inna park,

little bundles inna black shawl,

waiting for the coffin. I'm fifty-

six years old. What am I to do with

myself? I have strength in my hands.

I wanna cook. I wanna clean. I wanna

make dinner for my children. Am I an

old dog to lie in fronta the fire

til my eyes close? These are the

terrible years, Theresa! Terrible

years!

MRS. PILLETTI

Catherine, my sister...

Catherine stares distraught at Mrs. Pilletti.

CATHERINE:

It's gonna happen to you! It's gonna

happen to you! What will you do if

Marty gets married?! What will you

cook? What happen to alla children

playing in alla rooms? Where is the

noise?! It is a curse to be a widow!

A curse. What will you do if Marty

gets married?! What will you do?

Rate this script:3.5 / 2 votes