A View From the Bridge: A Play in Two Acts, Page 3

  BEATRICE: What do you mean? I understand.

  EDDIE: You don’t understand; you still think you can talk about this to somebody just a little bit. Now lemme say it once and for all, because you’re makin’ me nervous again, both of you. I don’t care if somebody comes in the house and sees them sleepin’ on the floor, it never comes out of your mouth who they are or what they’re doin’ here.

  BEATRICE : Yeah, but my mother’ll know—

  EDDIE: Sure she’ll know, but just don’t you be the one who told her, that’s all. This is the United States government you’re playin’ with now, this is the Immigration Bureau. If you said it you knew it, if you didn’t say it you didn’t know it.

  CATHERINE: Yeah, but Eddie, suppose somebody—

  EDDIE : I don’t care what question it is. You—don’t —know—nothin’. They got stool pigeons all over this neighborhood they’re payin’ them every week for information, and you don’t know who they are. It could be your best friend. You hear? To Beatrice: Like Vinny Bolzano, remember Vinny?

  BEATRICE: Oh, yeah. God forbid.

  EDDIE: Tell her about Vinny. To Catherine: You think I’m blowin’ steam here? To Beatrice: Go ahead, tell her. To Catherine: You was a baby then. There was a family lived next door to her mother, he was about sixteen—

  BEATRICE: No, he was no more than fourteen, cause I was to his confirmation in Saint Agnes. But the family had an uncle that they were hidin’ in the house, and he snitched to the Immigration.

  CATHERINE: The kid snitched?

  EDDIE: On his own uncle!

  CATHERINE: What, was he crazy?

  EDDIE: He was crazy after, I tell you that, boy.

  BEATRICE: Oh, it was terrible. He had five brothers and the old father. And they grabbed him in the kitchen and pulled him down the stairs—three flights his head was bouncin’ like a coconut. And they spit on him in the street, his own father and his brothers. The whole neighborhood was cryin’.

  CATHERINE: Ts! So what happened to him?

  BEATRICE: I think he went away. To Eddie: I never seen him again; did you?

  EDDIE rises during this, taking out his watch: Him? You’ll never see him no more, a guy do a thing like that? How’s he gonna show his face? To Catherine, as he gets up uneasily: Just remember, kid, you can quicker get back a million dollars that was stole than a word that you gave away. He is standing now, stretching his back.

  CATHERINE: Okay, I won’t say a word to nobody, I swear.

  EDDIE: Gonna rain tomorrow. We’ll be slidin’ all over the decks. Maybe you oughta put something on for them, they be here soon.

  BEATRICE: I only got fish, I hate to spoil it if they ate already. I’ll wait, it only takes a few minutes; I could broil it.

  CATHERINE: What happens, Eddie, when that ship pulls out and they ain’t on it, though? Don’t the captain say nothin’?

  EDDIE, slicing an apple with his pocket knife: Captain’s pieced off, what do you mean?

  CATHERINE: Even the captain?

  EDDIE: What’s the matter, the captain don’t have to live? Captain gets a piece, maybe one of the mates, piece for the guy in Italy who fixed the papers for them, Tony here’ll get a little bite....

  BEATRICE: I just hope they get work here, that’s all I hope.

  EDDIE: Oh, the syndicate’ll fix jobs for them; till they pay ’em off they’ll get them work every day. It’s after the pay-off, then they’ll have to scramble like the rest of us.

  BEATRICE: Well, it be better than they got there.

  EDDIE: Oh sure, well, listen. So you gonna start Monday, heh, Madonna?

  CATHERINE, embarrassed: I’m supposed to, yeah.

  Eddie is standing facing the two seated women. First Beatrice smiles, then Catherine, for a powerful emotion is on him, a childish one and a knowing fear, and the tears show in his eyes—and they are shy before the avowal.

  EDDIE, sadly smiling, yet somehow proud of her: Well ... I hope you have good luck. I wish you the best. You know that, kid.

  CATHERINE, rising, trying to laugh: You sound like I’m goin’ a million miles!

  EDDIE: I know. I guess I just never figured on one thing.

  CATHERINE, smiling: What?

  EDDIE: That you would ever grow up. He utters a soundless laugh at himself, feeling his breast pocket of his shirt. I left a cigar in my other coat, I think. He starts for the bedroom.

  CATHERINE: Stay there! I’ll get it for you.

  She hurries out. There is a slight pause, and Eddie turns to Beatrice, who has been avoiding his gaze.

  EDDIE: What are you mad at me lately?

  BEATRICE: Who’s mad? She gets up, clearing the dishes. I’m not mad. She picks up the dishes and turns to him. You’re the one is mad. She turns and goes into the kitchen as Catherine enters from the bedroom with a cigar and a pack of matches.

  CATHERINE: Here! I’ll light it for you! She strikes a match and holds it to his cigar. He puffs. Quietly: Don’t worry about me, Eddie, heh?

  EDDIE: Don’t burn yourself. Just in time she blows out the match. You better go in help her with the dishes.

  CATHERINE turns quickly to the table, and, seeing the table cleared, she says, almost guiltily: Oh! She hurries into the kitchen, and as she exits there: I’ll do the dishes, B.!

  Alone, Eddie stands looking toward the kitchen for a moment. Then he takes out his watch, glances at it, replaces it in his pocket, sits in the armchair, and stares at the smoke flowing out of his mouth.

  The lights go down, then come up on Alfieri, who has moved onto the forestage.

  ALFIERI: He was as good a man as he had to be in a life that was hard and even. He worked on the piers when there was work, he brought home his pay, and he lived. And toward ten o’clock of that night, after they had eaten, the cousins came.

  The lights fade on Alfieri and rise on the street.

  Enter Tony, escorting Marco and Rodolpho, each with a valise. Tony halts, indicates the house. They stand for a moment looking at it.

  MARCO—he is a square-built peasant of thirty-two, suspicious, tender, and quiet-voiced: Thank you.

  TONY: You’re on your own now. Just be careful, that’s all. Ground floor.

  MARCO: Thank you.

  TONY, indicating the house: I’ll see you on the pier tomorrow. You’ll go to work.

  Marco nods. Tony continues on walking down the street.

  RODOLPHO: This will be the first house I ever walked into in America! Imagine! She said they were poor!

  MARCO: Ssh! Come. They go to door.

  Marco knocks. The lights rise in the room. Eddie goes and opens the door. Enter Marco and Rodolpho, removing their caps. Beatrice and Catherine enter from the kitchen. The lights fade in the street.

  EDDIE: You Marco?

  MARCO: Marco.

  EDDIE: Come on in! He shakes Marco’s hand.

  BEATRICE: Here, take the bags!

  MARCO nods, looks to the women and fixes on Beatrice. Crosses to Beatrice: Are you my cousin?

  She nods. He kisses her hand.

  BEATRICE, above the table, touching her chest with her hand: Beatrice. This is my husband, Eddie. All nod. Catherine, my sister Nancy’s daughter. The brothers nod.

  MARCO, indicating Rodolpho: My brother. Rodolpho. Rodolpho nods. Marco comes with a certain formal stiffness to Eddie. I want to tell you now Eddie—when you say go, we will go.

  EDDIE: Oh, no ... Takes Marco’s bag.

  MARCO: I see it’s a small house, but soon, maybe, we can have our own house.

  EDDIE: You’re welcome, Marco, we got plenty of room here. Katie, give them supper, heh? Exits into bedroom with their bags.

  CATHERINE: Come here, sit down. I’ll get you some soup.

  MARCO, as they go to the table: We ate on the ship. Thank you. To Eddie, calling off to bedroom: Thank you,

  BEATRICE : Get some coffee. We’ll all have coffee. Come sit down.

  Rodolpho and Marco sit, at the table.

  CATHERINE, wondrously: How come h
e’s so dark and you’re so light, Rodolpho?

  RODOLPHO, ready to laugh: I don’t know. A thousand years ago, they say, the Danes invaded Sicily.

  Beatrice kisses Rodolpho. They laugh as Eddie enters.

  CATHERINE, to Beatrice: He’s practically blond!

  EDDIE: How’s the coffee doin’?

  CATHERINE, brought up: I’m gettin’ it. She hurries out to kitchen.

  EDDIE sits on his rocker: Yiz have a nice trip?

  MARCO : The ocean is always rough. But we are good sailors.

  EDDIE: No trouble gettin’ here?

  MARCO : No. The man brought us. Very nice man.

  RODOLPHO, to Eddie: He says we start to work tomorrow. Is he honest?

  EDDIE, laughing: No. But as long as you owe them money, they’ll get you plenty of work. To Marco: Yiz ever work on the piers in Italy?

  MARCO : Piers? Ts!—no.

  RODOLPHO, smiling at the smallness of his town: In our town there are no piers, only the beach, and little fishing boats.

  BEATRICE: So what kinda work did yiz do?

  MARCO, shrugging shyly, even embarrassed: Whatever there is, anything.

  RODOLPHO: Sometimes they build a house, or if they fix the bridge—Marco is a mason and I bring him the cement. He laughs. In harvest time we work in the fields ... if there is work. Anything.

  EDDIE: Still bad there, heh?

  MARCO: Bad, yes.

  RODOLPHO, laughing: It’s terrible! We stand around all day in the piazza listening to the fountain like birds. Everybody waits only for the train.

  BEATRICE: What’s on the train?

  RODOLPHO: Nothing. But if there are many passengers and you’re lucky you make a few lire to push the taxi up the hill.

  Enter Catherine; she listens.

  BEATRICE: You gotta push a taxi?

  RODOLPHO, laughing: Oh, sure! It’s a feature in our town. The horses in our town are skinnier than goats. So if there are too many passengers we help to push the carriages up to the hotel. He laughs. In our town the horses are only for show.

  CATHERINE: Why don’t they have automobile taxis?

  RODOLPHO : There is one. We push that too. They laugh. Everything in our town, you gotta push!

  BEATRICE, to Eddie: How do you like that!

  EDDIE, to Marco: So what’re you wanna do, you gonna stay here in this country or you wanna go back?

  MARCO, surprised: Go back?

  EDDIE: Well, you’re married, ain’t you?

  MARCO: Yes. I have three children.

  BEATRICE: Three! I thought only one.

  MARCO: Oh, no. I have three now. Four years, five years, six years.

  BEATRICE: Ah ... I bet they’re cryin’ for you already, heh?

  MARCO: What can I do? The older one is sick in his chest. My wife—she feeds them from her own mouth. I tell you the truth, if I stay there they will never grow up. They eat the sunshine.

  BEATRICE: My God. So how long you want to stay?

  MARCO: With your permission, we will stay maybe a—

  EDDIE : She don’t mean in this house, she means in the country.

  MARCO: Oh. Maybe four, five, six years, I think.

  RODOLPHO, smiling: He trusts his wife.

  BEATRICE: Yeah, but maybe you’ll get enough, you’ll be able to go back quicker.

  MARCO: I hope. I don’t know. To Eddie: I understand it’s not so good here either.

  EDDIE: Oh, you guys’ll be all right—till you pay them off, anyway. After that, you’ll have to scramble, that’s all. But you’ll make better here than you could there.

  RODOLPHO: How much? We hear all kinds of figures. How much can a man make? We work hard, we’ll work all day, all night—

  Marco raises a hand to hush him.

  EDDIE—he is coming more and more to address Marco only: On the average a whole year? Maybe—well, it’s hard to say, see. Sometimes we lay off, there’s no ships three four weeks.

  MARCO: Three, four weeks!—Ts!

  EDDIE: But I think you could probably—thirty, forty a week, over the whole twelve months of the year.

  MARCO, rises, crosses to Eddie: Dollars.

  EDDIE: Sure dollars.

  Marco puts an arm round Rodolpho and they laugh.

  MARCO: If we can stay here a few months, Beatrice—

  BEATRICE: Listen, you’re welcome, Marco—

  MARCO: Because I could send them a little more if I stay here.

  BEATRICE: As long as you want, we got plenty a room.

  MARCO, his eyes are showing tears: My wife—To Eddie: My wife—I want to send right away maybe twenty dollars—

  EDDIE: You could send them something next week already.

  MARCO—he is near tears: Eduardo ... He goes to Eddie, offering his hand.

  EDDIE: Don’t thank me. Listen, what the hell, it’s no skin off me. To Catherine: What happened to the coffee?

  CATHERINE: I got it on. To Rodolpho: You married too? No.

  RODOLPHO rises: Oh, no ...

  BEATRICE, to Catherine: I told you he—

  CATHERINE: I know, I just thought maybe he got married recently.

  RODOLPHO: I have no money to get married. I have a nice face, but no money. He laughs.

  CATHERINE, to Beatrice: He’s a real blond!

  BEATRICE, to Rodolpho: You want to stay here too, heh? For good?

  RODOLPHO: Me? Yes, forever! Me, I want to be an American. And then I want to go back to Italy when I am rich, and I will buy a motorcycle. He smiles. Marco shakes him affectionately.

  CATHERINE: A motorcycle!

  RODOLPHO: With a motorcycle in Italy you will never starve any more.

  BEATRICE: I’ll get you coffee. She exits to the kitchen.

  EDDIE: What you do with a motorcycle?

  MARCO: He dreams, he dreams.

  RODOLPHO, to Marco: Why? To Eddie: Messages! The rich people in the hotel always need someone who will carry a message. But quickly, and with a great noise. With a blue motorcycle I would station myself in the courtyard of the hotel, and in a little while I would have messages.

  MARCO: When you have no wife you have dreams.

  EDDIE: Why can’t you just walk, or take a trolley or sump’m?

  Enter Beatrice with coffee.

  RODOLPHO: Oh, no, the machine, the machine is necessary. A man comes into a great hotel and says, I am a messenger. Who is this man? He disappears walking, there is no noise, nothing. Maybe he will never come back, maybe he will never deliver the message. But a man who rides up on a great machine, this man is responsible, this man exists. He will be given messages. He helps Beatrice set out the coffee things. I am also a singer, though.

  EDDIE: You mean a regular—?

  RODOLPHO: Oh, yes. One night last year Andreola got sick. Baritone. And I took his place in the garden of the hotel. Three arias I sang without a mistake! Thousand-lire notes they threw from the tables, money was falling like a storm in the treasury. It was magnificent. We lived six months on that night, eh, Marco?

  Marco nods doubtfully.

  MARCO: Two months.

  Eddie laughs.

  BEATRICE: Can’t you get a job in that place?

  RODOLPHO: Andreola got better. He’s a baritone, very strong.

  Beatrice laughs.

  MARCO, regretfully, to Beatrice: He sang too loud.

  RODOLPHO: Why too loud?

  MARCO : Too loud. The guests in that hotel are all Englishmen. They don’t like too loud.

  RODOLPHO, to Catherine: Nobody ever said it was too loud!

  MARCO: I say. It was too loud. To Beatrice: I knew it as soon as he started to sing. Too loud.

  RODOLPHO: Then why did they throw so much money?

  MARCO: They paid for your courage. The English like courage. But once is enough.

  RODOLPHO, to all but Marco: I never heard anybody say it was too loud.

  CATHERINE: Did you ever hear of jazz?

  RODOLPHO: Oh, sure! I sing jazz.

  CATHERINE rises: You could
sing jazz?

  RODOLPHO: Oh, I sing Napolidan, jazz, bel canto—I sing “Paper Doll,” you like “Paper Doll”?

  CATHERINE: Oh, sure, I’m crazy for “Paper Doll.” Go ahead, sing it.

  RODOLPHO takes his stance after getting a nod of permission from Marco, and with a high tenor voice begins singing:

  “I’ll tell you boys it’s tough to be alone,

  And it’s tough to love a doll that’s not your own.

  I’m through with all of them,

  I’ll never fall again,

  Hey, boy, what you gonna do?

  I’m gonna buy a paper doll that I can call my own,

  A doll that other fellows cannot steal.

  Eddie rises and moves upstage.

  And then those flirty, flirty guys

  With their flirty, flirty eyes

  Will have to flirt with dollies that are real—

  EDDIE : Hey, kid—hey, wait a minute—

  CATHERINE, enthralled: Leave him finish, it’s beautiful! To Beatrice: He’s terrific! It’s terrific, Rodolpho.

  EDDIE: Look, kid; you don’t want to be picked up, do ya?

  MARCO: No—no! He rises.

  EDDIE, indicating the rest of the building: Because we never had no singers here ... and all of a sudden there’s a singer in the house, y’know what I mean?

  MARCO: Yes, yes. You’ll be quiet, Rodolpho.

  EDDIE—he is flushed: They got guys all over the place, Marco. I mean.

  MARCO: Yes. He’ll be quiet. To Rodolpho: You’ll be quiet.

  Rodolpho nods.

  Eddie has risen, with iron control, even a smile. He moves to Catherine.

  EDDIE: What’s the high heels for, Garbo?

  CATHERINE: I figured for tonight—

  EDDIE: Do me a favor, will you? Go ahead.

  Embarrassed now, angered, Catherine goes out into the bedroom. Beatrice watches her go and gets up; in passing, she gives Eddie a cold look, restrained only by the strangers, and goes to the table to pour coffee.

  EDDIE, striving to laugh, and to Marco, but directed as much to Beatrice: All actresses they want to be around here.

  RODOLPHO, happy about it: In Italy too! All the girls.

  Catherine emerges from the bedroom in low-heel shoes, comes to the table. Rodolpho is lifting a cup.

  EDDIE—he is sizing up Rodolpho, and there is a concealed suspicion: Yeah, heh?