SERGE: I’ve been told.
BEA: Does this mean the two of you are back together?
SERGE: No, Mrs. Woodnick. It does not!
(Ford hands Bea a glass of water.)
BEA: Thank you, darling.
(Amanda takes the glass of water away from Bea.)
AMANDA: If you don’t mind, Mrs. Woodnick—
OTTO: Mother, you remember Betty Pemberton?
BEA: Of course! The big fat girl. Oh who could forget her. Repulsive.
AMANDA: I am Betty Pemberton.
BEA: I thought you were Amanda?
AMANDA: I’m both.
BEA: You look fantastic!
OTTO: Doesn’t she?
AMANDA: Thank you.
BEA: I heard about your mother—
AMANDA: Don’t mention it—
BEA: Maybe you could help Otto? Look at him. Yuck. That’s right! That’s right, Otto! Eat! Keep eating those bagels! Keep shovin’ ’em down your fat ugly throat! That’s the boy! Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll explode and bits of you’ll fall all over Broadway—
(Otto points the gun at Bea.)
Ya look good, Otto. You’ve lost weight, haven’t you? It shows up in your face.
AMANDA: It was very nice of you to stop by, Mrs. Woodnick. I appreciate your concern, but we’re actually—
BEA: What are you doing here anyway, Otto? Shouldn’t you be out looking for work? My son was fired recently.
SERGE: He mentioned it.
OTTO: I followed Serge.
BEA: Why Otto? Why do you have ta make such a pest of yourself? What good can come of that? None. Why’d you follow Serge here?
OTTO: So I could kill Ford.
BEA: Who’s Ford?
(Ford raises his hand.)
I see. Why?
OTTO: Because Serge is in love with Ford!
BEA (Angry): So what good comes of that?! EAT! GO AHEAD EAT! You make no sense when you talk, so eat.
AMANDA: I apologize for hanging up—
BEA: You know, Ford, you have the most beautiful name I ever had in my mouth. And, Amanda, or Betty, or whatever the hell you’re calling yourself today, I can see why you were so upset. I’d be upset too, if I thought this one was leaving me for him—
AMANDA: He’s not leaving me for anyone!
SERGE (Grabbing Ford’s arm): He’s coming with me!
AMANDA (Grabbing Ford’s other arm): I HATE YOU!!
SERGE: Tell her, Ford. Let’s go.
OTTO: Stay with her, Ford. She loves you. He stinks.
BEA: Mind your own business.
OTTO: If you fall apart, Serge, I’ll pick up the pieces! You could love me again, if I picked up the pieces!
SERGE (Releasing Ford, who falls): Never!
OTTO: You could love me again on the rebound!
AMANDA (To Ford): Tell him you never want to see him again!
SERGE (To Ford): I have a taxi waiting. We could be in bed in twenty minutes. I’ll have you hog-tied, horse-whipped and begging for more—
AMANDA (Out of control): IF YOU DO NOT SHUT UP I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS!! I’M LIABLE TO KILL SOMEONE! I CAN DO IT, TOO! THIS IS MY HOME! WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING HERE AT THIS HOUR!? YOU HAVE COME TO DRIVE ME MAD! PERVERTS AND FAT PEOPLE AND STRANGERS FROM THE TELEPHONE! IT CAN NOT BE APPROPRIATE FOR YOU TO BE HERE! I’M CALLING THAT HOTLINE AND REPORTING YOU! This has been a very bad couple of weeks! What did I do?! I WAS A GOOD GIRL! SO WHY IS GOD PUNISHING ME NOW?—I may have killed some children yesterday, BUT THAT WAS NOT MY FAULT! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!
SERGE: You’re unbalanced.
AMANDA: OF COURSE I’M UNBALANCED!! I HAVEN’T EATEN IN A WEEK! FAGGOT!!
OTTO: Have a bagel.
BEA: Ya got a bialy?
OTTO: Let me look—
AMANDA: I WILL NOT BE REDUCED TO THIS GROVELING, WHINING STATE! I WILL NOT BE MISS HAVISHAM!
SERGE (To Ford): We could be fucking right now.
AMANDA: Otto!!! SHOOT HIM!!
BEA: STOP IT! God, stop it already with the shouting. Enough already. You’re giving me a headache.
AMANDA: SHOOT HER! SHOOT ME! SHOOT SOMEONE!
BEA: You listen to me, darling. I have had extensive crises intervention training, and I BELIEVE I can be of some assistance.
AMANDA (Collapsing in despair): I give up.
BEA: Ford, you haven’t said much and it seems to me that you are the apex of this unfortunate pentagon. Now . . . I ask you. Look at Serge. Think before you answer. Would you say you had feelings for him? Would you say you cared for Serge? Would you say you loved him?
(Ford paces and thinks for a very long time before answering.)
FORD (Nodding): Uh-huh.
AMANDA (Under her breath): Shoot the fairy, Otto. Shoot the fairy.
BEA: Quiet! . . . Now, Ford. Look at Amanda.—Who, I’m assuming has looked better. Would you say you also had feelings for her? Do you love Amanda?
(Ford paces and thinks for a very long time before answering.)
FORD (Nodding): Uh-huh.
BEA (Sagely): I see . . . I see. . . . All right. If I were to ask you which one you preferred, what would you say? Let’s imagine that the building is on fire and you can only get one of them out alive. Which one would you save? Which one do you love more?
(Ford looks at Amanda and Serge, respectively. He paces, thinks, tries to decide, then gives up.)
SERGE: What is the point of—
BEA: Listen to me. I spend all my time on the phones at the crisis center. I listen to hundreds of people. And they all got a different story. But it’s only the details that are different. Basically, they all got the same story: they’re alone. They’ve got nothing. They never found someone who made them feel, something. I never found someone. Well, I let someone slip through my fingers, but that’s another story. You are all so lucky. Why choose? Can’t you all just love each other? Must you condemn yourselves to lives of regret and resentment?
(She seems to step out of the play for a moment to make a grand point) These are miserable times for the artist in America, spiritually and economically. It seems to me you should be banding together, not pulling apart.
AMANDA (Pause, then grudgingly): I must admit, Serge, I enjoyed kissing you. Although I found your tongue hyperactive.
SERGE: My apartment is tiny really and it’s terrifically overpriced. A few years
