Marty Page #27

MRS. PILLETTI

That was a nice girl last night,

Marty.

(Marty nods)

She wasn't a very good-looking girl,

but she looks like a nice girl.

(she pauses, Marty

makes no reply)

I said, she wasn't a very good-looking

girl... not very pretty...

MARTY:

(still amiable)

I heard you, Ma.

MRS. PILLETTI

She looks a little old for you. About

thirty-five, forty years old?

MARTY:

She's twenty-nine, Ma.

A nearby kneeling penitent looks disapprovingly at Mrs.

Pilletti and shushes her. The mother nods briefly.

MRS. PILLETTI

She's more than twenty-nine years

old, Marty. That's what she tells

you.

MARTY:

What, Ma?

MRS. PILLETTI

She looks thirty-five, forty. She

didn't look Italian to me.

Marty frowns but remains silent.

MRS. PILLETTI

I said, is she Italian girl?

MARTY:

I don't know. I don't think so.

It's Mrs. Pilletti's turn to frown. A silence. She turns

back to Marty.

MRS. PILLETTI

She don't look Italian to me. What

kinda family she come from? There

was something about her I didn't

like. It seems funny, the first time

you meet her, she comes to your empty

house alone. These college girls,

they all one step fromma streets.

Marty turns, on the verge of anger with his mother.

MARTY:

What are you talking about? She's a

nice girl.

MRS. PILLETTI

She didn't look Italian to me.

A silence hangs between them.

MRS. PILLETTI

I don't like her.

MARTY:

You don't like her. You only met her

for two minutes.

MRS. PILLETTI

Don't bring her to the house no more.

MARTY:

What didn't you like about her?

MRS. PILLETTI

I don't know! She don't look like

Italian to me. Plenny a nice Italian

girls around.

MARTY:

Well, let's not get inna fight about

it, Ma.

The kneeling woman shushes them again. By now the nine o'clock

worshipers have filed out, and Marty joins the flow of ten

o'clock people moving in. His mother turns back to him again.

MARTY:

(stopping her before

she gets started)

What are you getting so worked up

about? I just met the girl last night.

I'm probably not gonna see her again.

They continue down the aisle of the church.

BAR. DAY.

An hour later, the after-mass CROWD is there. It's a little

more crowded than weekdays. A WOMAN with a glass of beer in

one hand, rocks a baby carriage with the other.

Marty enters the bar, moves along, ad-libbing "Hello" to

someone at the bar, gets the attention of Lou, the bartender.

MARTY:

Hello, Lou, Angie come in yet?

BARTENDER:

He was here last night till about

two o'clock. I hear you really got

stuck with a dog last night.

MARTY:

(glancing quickly at

him)

Who told you that?

BARTENDER:

Angie. He says she was a real scrawny-

looking thing.

MARTY:

She wasn't so bad.

He turns away from the bar annoyed, notes Ralph, sitting

alone in one of the booths, reading the Sunday comics. Marty

ambles over to him.

MARTY:

Hello, Ralph. How'd you make out

with those nurses last night, Ralph?

RALPH:

(looking up)

Oh man, you shoulda come with us

last night, Marty. That one for you

was a real lunatic. How'd you make

out?

The abruptness of the question rather startles Marty. It is

not an expression he would normally associate with an evening

with Clara.

MARTY:

Oh, I hadda nice time...I didn't try

nothing. She's a nice girl. I just

met her last night, you know. I just

talked with her. I didn't even try

nothing...

He feels very ill at ease and a little guilty for defending

himself.

MARTY:

Listen, you see Angie, tell him I

went home, I'll meet him after lunch.

He moves back down the bar and goes out into the street.

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