Fitzgerald Francis Scott - Clothes for a summer hotel: a ghost play

At curtain-rise F. Scott Fitzgerald is standing before the mock-up building. He appears as he did when he died in his mid-forties, a man with blurred edges, a tentative manner, but with a surviving dignity and capacity for deep feeling.

SISTER ONE: If you are tired of waiting

SCOTT [cutting in]: Yes, I am tired but I will continue to wait as long as she keeps me waiting.

[There is a pause, the sound of wind.]

SISTER TWO: There was a discussion among the staff lately about whether to paint the gates red to make them appear more cheerful.

SISTER ONE: To the patients and visitors. Do you think they should be painted red?

SCOTT: No.

SISTER ONE: Why?

SCOTT: I think it would make no perceptible difference.

SISTER ONE: The building is red.

SCOTT: Is it?

SISTER ONE: What?

SCOTT: Red.

SISTER ONE: Oh, yes, it is red, a dark red.

SCOTT: In some areas it appears to be black as if scorched by fire.

SISTER ONE: What did he say?

SISTER TWO: I didnt catch what he said the wind blew his voice away.

SISTER ONE: And so that is your opinion?

SCOTT: What?

SISTER ONE: The gates should not be painted red to look cheerful?

SCOTT: Frankly speaking

SISTER ONE: Yes?

SCOTT: If the objective is to create a cheerful impression, I would begin by removing the two of you from beside the gates.

SISTER ONE: Oh, no, we must guard them until they are locked for the evening.

SCOTT: Then why dont you wear red robes with dashes of white and blue. Sprinkle a few stars on them! Jesus!

[Sister One crosses herself.]

SISTER TWO: What did he say?

SISTER ONE: He spoke the name of our Lord.

[Sister Two crosses herself. Gerald Murphy appears behind Scott.]

MURPHY: It does no good antagonizing them, Scott.

SCOTT: Murph!

MURPHY: It will all be over in [He looks at his wristwatch.] one hour and forty-five minutes.

SCOTT: It? [Murphy nods. Scott staggers. Murphy catches his arm.] Not drunk. Exhausted. You said it? What is it?

VOICE BOOMING ON SPEAKERS: La question est dfendue.

SCOTT: Is Sara with you, Murph?

MURPHY: Yes, shes gone back to the inn, you know, the Pine Grove Inn.

SCOTT: Yes. I know. Dreary place for

MURPHY: For a bit of rest. Pretty tired from the trip. Surprisingly long, considering...

SCOTT [dazed, nodding in a bewildered way]: Yes, I

MURPHY: She she caught a glimpse of Zelda practicing ballet.

SCOTT: Where?

MURPHY: Therapy room.

SCOTT: Oh. Yes. Excuse me, Im

MURPHY: You must have found it a long trip, too.

SCOTT: Long and tiring . Im only here for the afternoon and the night. [Murphy nods.] So. Sara saw Zelda, did she?

MURPHY: Saw her practicing

SCOTT: Ballet...

MURPHY: Scott? Sara was so distressed, Id better tell you this to prepare you when you see her. Scott, Sara burst into tears. Scott? You ought to try to come out here more often, more for your own sake than hers. She has her fantasy world which well take part in later

SISTER ONE: Thin ice.

SISTER TWO: Very thin ice.

[The two men exchange wary glances. Scott clears his throat; Murphy kicks at some fallen autumn leaves.]

MURPHY: I was going to say oh, yes working on the West Coast right? [Scott nods uncertainly.] You see her rarely, now. So. The change youll notice in her is going to be a shock. Shes taking insulin; its put a good deal of weight on her, and, well, regardless of what the doctors

SCOTT: I know doctors...

MURPHY: They tell you what its

SCOTT: To their advantage, whats expedient to tell you...

MURPHY: Of course thats understandable. You naturally realize that her reality is very different from ours even in these circumstances.

SCOTT: Shes still afflicted with that dancing craze, even now when any kind of a career, especially dancing, is sadlyimpractical.

MURPHY: Scott, we feel she was driven to it because

SCOTT: I had to discourage her attempt to compete with my success as a writer: precocious, I face that now, have to bleed for it now. Have you seen Zeldas writing?

MURPHY: Yes. That was her talent. I hear you made her promise not to publish Save Me the Waltz till your Tender Is the Night had come out.

SCOTT: Without apology, yes, I did. Didnt I have to pay for her treatment, for Scottys Vassar and I did. So much of Zeldas material was mine and she put it into her novel a beautiful but cloudy, indistinct mirror of

MURPHY: Yours! [He turns away.] I suppose all professional writers are self-protective first and maybe last... [He crosses offstage.]

SCOTT: Where are you going, Murph? [The reply is indistinct.] They slip away from me now, dissolve about me... Something strange here unreal... disturbing!

ZELDAS VOICE IN THERAPY: Un, deux, pliez, un, deux, pliez, etc.

[Scott draws his coat collar about him, shivering.]

SISTER ONE: The wind is cold on the hilltop; you could wait inside till she finishes her dancing.

SCOTT [shouting]: ZELDA! ITS ME, SCOTT!

[There is a slight pause.]

ZELDAS VOICE: Him?Impossible! A dream .. .

[Another pause, then Zelda appears at the asylum doorway in a tutu and other ballet accoutrements, all a bit gray and bedraggled.]

ZELDA: For me, a visitor? Where?

[Murphy reappears, arrested by Zeldas outcry.]

SCOTT: My God. Is that ? Murph! Is that ?

MURPHY: Zelda.

SISTER ONE: Miss Zelda, get into your coat.

SISTER TWO: Its cold out.

ZELDA: I am not going out. Why would I go out?

SISTER TWO: Your visitor is waiting.

ZELDA: What visitor?

SISTER ONE: Your husband.

ZELDA: Impossible.

SISTER ONE: Look, he is by the bench.

ZELDA: No, no, no! An imposter! No resemblance to Scott. [She spins angrily about and rushes back into the asylum.]

SCOTT: That apparition was ! [Scott covers his eyes.]

MURPHY: Apparently she didnt recognize you either, Scott. You were a remarkably handsome young man, but time has a habit of passing.

SCOTT: For me remorselessly yes.... Murph, you mustnt leave me, I cant get through it alone!

MURPHY: Afraid youd better.

SCOTT: Id crack.

MURPHY: Whats one more crack among all the others? I wouldnt think another would be very distinguishable from the rest.

SCOTT: All right. God! That was a beastly remark...

MURPHY: We are all obliged to make one now and then... [He has retreated into the foliage, then calls back in a somewhat spectral voice.] You and Zelda will be at our dance tonight at the villa? [This line is almost drowned in the wind.]

SCOTT: Dance? Where?

[Zelda, wearing a coat, reappears at the asylum entrance with an intern.]

ZELDA: How shall I play it?

INTERN: Delicately, delicately.

ZELDA: Delicacy is not the style of a hawk. [She draws the coat tightly about her throat: her eyes are wide with shock.]

SCOTT [calling from downstage]: Zelda, is that you?

ZELDA: Do I answer that pathetic mockery of my once attractive husband?

[The intern nods, gripping her arm.]

SCOTT: Come down where I can hear you! Ive waited hours!

ZELDA [calling out]: Hours, only hours. [She turns to the intern.] Its an impossible meeting, one that he would regret.

INTERN: Zelda, you must play it.

ZELDA: As if it existed?

INTERN: After a while, it will seem to exist.

ZELDA: Ill try to keep that in mind but the mind of a lunatic is not retentive of present things. [