Читать книгу Blood Knot and Other Plays - Athol Fugard - Страница 9
ОглавлениеSCENE ONE
Late afternoon.
Lying on his bed, the one with the shelf, and staring up at the ceiling, is Morris. After a few seconds he stands up on the bed, looks at the alarm clock, and then lies down again in the same position. Time passes. The alarm rings and Morris jumps purposefully to his feet. He knows exactly what he is going to do. First, he winds and resets the clock, then lights the oil stove and puts on a kettle of water. Next, he places an enamel washbasin on the floor in front of the other bed and lays out a towel. He feels the kettle on the stove and then goes to the door and looks out. Nothing. He wanders aimlessly around the room for a few more seconds, pausing at the window for a long look at whatever lies beyond. Eventually he is back at the door again and, after a short wait, he sees someone coming. A second burst of activity. He places a packet of footsalts beside the basin and finally replaces the kettle.
Zachariah comes in through the door. Their meeting is without words. Morris nods and Zachariah grunts on his way to the bed, where he sits down, drags off his shoes, and rolls up his trousers. While he does this, Morris sprinkles footsalts into the basin and then sits back on his haunches and waits. Zachariah dips his feet into the basin, sighs with satisfaction, but stops abruptly when he sees Morris smile. He frowns, pretends to think, and makes a great business of testing the water with his foot.
ZACHARIAH. Not as hot as last night, hey?
MORRIS. Last night you said it was too hot.
ZACHARIAH [thinks about this]. That’s what I mean.
MORRIS. So what is it? Too hot or too cold?
ZACHARIAH. When?
MORRIS. Now.
ZACHARIAH. Luke-ish. [Bends forward and smells.] New stuff?
MORRIS. Yes.
ZACHARIAH. Let’s see.
[Morris hands him the packet. Zachariah first smells it, then takes out a pinch between thumb and forefinger.]
It’s also white.
MORRIS. Yes, but it is different stuff.
ZACHARIAH. The other lot was also white, but it didn’t help, hey?
MORRIS. This is definitely different stuff, Zach. [Pointing.] See. There’s the name. Radium Salts.
[Zachariah is not convinced. Morris fetches a second packet.]
Here’s the other. Schultz’s Foot Salts.
ZACHARIAH [taking the second packet and looking inside]. They look the same, don’t they? [Smells.] But they smell different. You know something? I think the old lot smells nicest. What do you say we go back to the old lot?
MORRIS. But you just said it didn’t help!
ZACHARIAH. But it smells better, man.
MORRIS. It’s not the smell, Zach. You don’t go by the smell, man.
ZACHARIAH. No?
MORRIS. No. It’s the healing properties.
ZACHARIAH. Oh, maybe.
MORRIS [taking back the new packet]. Zach, listen to this . . . [Reads.] ‘For all agonies of the joints: lumbago, rheumatism, tennis elbows, housemaid’s knees; also ideal for bunions, corns, callouses’—that’s what you got . . . ‘and for soothing irritated skins.’
[Zachariah lets him finish, examining the old packet while Morris reads.]
ZACHARIAH. How much that new stuff cost?
MORRIS. Why?
ZACHARIAH. Tell me, man.
MORRIS [aware of what is coming]. Listen, Zach. It’s the healing properties. Price has nothing . . .
ZACHARIAH [insistent]. How—much—does—that—cost?
MORRIS. Twenty-five cents.
ZACHARIAH [with a small laugh]. You know something?
MORRIS. Yes, yes, I know what you’re going to say.
ZACHARIAH. This old stuff, which isn’t so good, is thirty cents. Five cents more! [He starts to laugh.]
MORRIS So? Listen, Zach. Price . . . ZACH! Do you want to listen or don’t you?
[Zachariah is laughing loud in triumph.]
PRICE HAS GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!
ZACHARIAH. Then why is this more money?
MORRIS. Profit. He’s making more profit on the old stuff. Satisfied?
ZACHARIAH. So?
MORRIS. So.
ZACHARIAH. Oh. [Slowly.] So he’s making more profit on the old stuff. [The thought comes.] But that’s what you been buying, man! Ja—and with my money, remember! So it happens to be my profit he’s making. Isn’t that so?
[He is getting excited and now stands in the basin of water.]
Hey. I see it now. I do the bloody work—all day long—in the sun. Not him. It’s my stinking feet that got the hardnesses. But he goes and makes my profit.
[Steps out of the basin.]
I want to work this out, man. How long you been buying that old stuff?
MORRIS. Only four weeks.
ZACHARIAH. Four weeks?
MORRIS. Yes.
ZACHARIAH. That makes four packets, hey? So you say five cents profit . . . which comes to . . . twenty cents . . . isn’t that so? Whose? Mine. Who’s got it? Him . . . him . . . some dirty, rotting, stinking, creeping, little . . .
MORRIS. But we are buying the cheap salts now, Zach! [Pause.] He’s not going to get the profits anymore. And what is more still, the new salts is better.
[The thread of Zachariah’s reasoning has been broken. He stares blankly at Morris.]
ZACHARIAH. I still say the old smells sweeter.
MORRIS. Okay, okay, listen. I tell you what. I’ll give you a double dose. One of the old and one of the new . . . together! That way you get the healing properties and the smell. Satisfied?
ZACHARIAH. Okay.
[He goes to the bed, sits down and once again soaks his feet.]
Hey! You got any more warm, Morrie?
[Morris pours the last of the hot water into the basin. Zachariah now settles down to enjoy the luxury of his footbath. Morris helps him off with his tie, and afterwards puts away his shoes.]
MORRIS. How did it go today?
ZACHARIAH. He’s got me standing again.
MORRIS. At the gate?
ZACHARIAH. Ja.
MORRIS. But didn’t you tell him, Zach? I told you to tell him that your feet are calloused and that you wanted to go back to pots.
ZACHARIAH. I did.
MORRIS. And then?
ZACHARIAH. He said: ‘Go to the gate or go to hell.’
MORRIS. That’s an insult.
ZACHARIAH. What’s the other one?
MORRIS. Injury!
ZACHARIAH No, no. The long one.
MORRIS. Inhumanity!
ZACHARIAH. That’s it. That’s what I think it is. My inhumanity from him. ‘Go to the gate or go to hell.’ What do they think I am?
MORRIS. What about me?
ZACHARIAH. [Anger]. What do you think I am?
MORRIS. No, Zach! Good heavens! You got it all wrong. What do they think I am, when they think what you are.
ZACHARIAH. Oh.
MORRIS. Yes. I’m on your side, they’re on theirs. I mean, I couldn’t be living here with you and not be on yours, could I, Zach?
[Morris is helping Zachariah off with his coat. When Zachariah is not looking, he smells it.]
Zach, I think we must borrow Minnie’s bath again.
ZACHARIAH. Okay, Morrie.
MORRIS. What about me? Do I smell?
ZACHARIAH. No. [Pause.] Hey! Have I started again?
[Morris doesn’t answer. Zachariah laughs.]
Hey! What’s that thing you say, Morrie? The one about smelling?
MORRIS [quoting]. ‘The rude odours of manhood.’
ZACHARIAH. ‘The rude odours of manhood.’ What’s the other one? The long one?
MORRIS. ‘NO smell’?
[Zachariah nods.]
‘No smell doth stink as sweet as labour.
’Tis joyous times when man and man
Do work and sweat in common toil,
When all the world’s my neighbour.’
ZACHARIAH. ‘When all the world’s my neighbour.’
[Zachariah starts drying his feet with the towel. Morris empties the basin and puts it away.]
Minnie.
MORRIS. What about Minnie?
ZACHARIAH. Our neighbour. You know, strange thing about Minnie. He doesn’t come no more.
MORRIS. I don’t miss him.
ZACHARIAH. No, you don’t remember, man. I’m talking about before you. He came every night. Ja! Me and him used to go out—together, you know—quite a bit. [Pause.] Hey! How did I forget a thing like that!
MORRIS. What are you talking about?
ZACHARIAH. Me and Minnie going out! Almost every night . . . and I’ve forgotten. [Pause.] How long you been here, Morrie?
MORRIS. Oh, about a year now, Zach.
ZACHARIAH. Only one miserable year and I have forgotten just like that! Just like it might not have never happened!
MORRIS. Yes, Zach, the year has flown by.
ZACHARIAH. You never want to go out, Morrie.
MORRIS. So I don’t want to go out. Ask me why and I’ll tell you. Come on.
ZACHARIAH. Why?
MORRIS. Because we got plans, remember? We’re saving for a future, which is something Minnie didn’t have.
ZACHARIAH. Ja. He doesn’t come no more.
MORRIS. You said that already, Zach. I heard you the first time.
ZACHARIAH. I was just thinking. I remembered him today. I was at the gate. It was lunchtime, and I was eating my bread.
MORRIS. Hey—did you like the peanut butter sandwiches I made?
ZACHARIAH. I was eating my bread, and then it comes, the thought: What the hell has happened to old Minnie?
MORRIS. Zach, I was asking you—
ZACHARIAH. Wait, man! I’m remembering it now. He used to come, I thought to myself, with his guitar to this room, to me, to his friend, old Zachariah, waiting for him here. Friday nights it was, when an ou’s got pay in his pocket and there’s no work tomorrow and Minnie’s coming. Now there was a friend for a man! He could laugh, could Minnie, and drink! He knew the spots, I’m telling you . . . the places to be, the good times . . . and—Ja! [Reverently.] Minnie had music. Listen, he could do a vastrap, that man, non-stop, on all strings at once. He knew the lot. Polka, tickey-draai, opskud en uitkap, ek sê. . . Now that was jollification for you, with Minnie coming around. So, when I’m waiting in here, and I hear that guitar in the street, at my door, I’m happy! ‘It’s you!’ I shout. He stops. ‘I know it’s you,’ I say. He pretends he isn’t there, you see. ‘Minnie,’ I call. ‘Minnie!’ So what does he do? He gives me a quick chick-a-doem in G. He knows I like G. ‘It’s Friday night, Minnie.’ ‘Chick-a-doem-doem, doem, doem,’ he says. And then I’m laughing. ‘You bugger! You motherless bastard!’ So I open the door. What do I see? Minnie! And what’s he got in his hand? Golden Moments at fifty cents a bottle. Out there, Morrie, standing just right on that spot in the street with his bottle and his music and laughing with me. ‘Zach,’ he says, ‘Ou pellie, tonight is the night—’ [The alarm goes off.] . . . is the night . . . is the night . . . is the night . . .
[Zachariah loses the thread of his story. By the time the alarm stops, he has forgotten what he was saying. The moment the alarm goes off Morris springs to his feet and busies himself at the table with their supper. Zachariah eventually goes back to the bed.]
MORRIS [watching Zachariah surreptitiously from the table]. I been thinking, Zach. It’s time we started making some definite plans. I mean . . . we’ve agreed on the main idea. The thing now is to find the right place. [Pause.] Zach? [Pause.] We have agreed, haven’t we?
ZACHARIAH. About what?
MORRIS. Hell, man. The future. Is it going to be a small two-man farm, just big enough for me and you; or what is it going to be?
ZACHARIAH. Ja.
MORRIS. Right. We agree. Now, I’m saying we got to find the right place. [Pause.] Zach! What’s the matter with you tonight?
ZACHARIAH. I was trying to remember what I was saying about Minnie. There was something else.
MORRIS. Now listen, Zach! You said yourself he doesn’t come no more. So what are you doing thinking about him? Here am I putting our future to you and you don’t even listen. The farm, Zach! Remember, man? The things we’re going to do. Picture it! Picking our own fruit. Chasing those damned baboons helter-skelter in the koppies. Chopping the firewood trees . . . and a cow . . . and a horse . . . and little chickens. Isn’t that exciting? Well, I haven’t been sitting still.
[Morris fetches an old map from the shelf over his bed.]
Here, I want to show you something. You want to know what it is? A map . . . of Africa. Now, this is the point, Zach. Look—there . . . and there . . . and down here . . . Do you see it? Blank. Large, blank spaces. Not a town, not a road, not even those thin little red lines. And, notice, they’re green. That means grass. I reckon we should be able to get a few acres in one of these blank spaces for next to nothing.
[Zachariah, bored, goes to the window and looks out.]
You listening, Zach?
ZACHARIAH. Ja.
MORRIS. This is not just talk, you know. It’s serious. One fine day, you wait and see. We’ll pack our things in something and get the hell and gone out of here. You say I don’t want to get out? My reply is that I do, but I want to get right out. You think I like it here more than you? You should have been here this afternoon, Zach. The wind was blowing again. Coming this way it was, right across the lake. You should have smelt it, man. I’m telling you that water has gone bad. Really rotten! And what about the factories there on the other side? Hey? Lavatories all around us? They’ve left no room for a man to breathe in this world. But when we go, Zach, together, and we got a place to go, our farm in the future . . . that will be different.
[Zachariah has been at the window all the time, staring out. He now sees something which makes him laugh. Just a chuckle to begin with, but with a suggestion of lechery.]
What’s so funny?
ZACHARIAH. Come here.
MORRIS.What’s there?
ZACHARIAH. Two donkeys, man. You know.
[Morris makes no move to the window. Zachariah stays there, laughing from time to time.]
MORRIS. Yes. It’s not just talk. When you bring your pay home tomorrow and we put away the usual, guess what we will have, Zach? Go on, guess. Forty-five rands. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have nothing. Ever think about that? You talk about going out, but forty-five rands—
ZACHARIAH [breaking off in the middle of a laugh]. Hey! I remember now! By hell! About Minnie. [His voice expresses vast disbelief.] How did I forget a thing like that? It was . . .ja . . .ja . . . It was a woman! That’s what we had when we went out at night. Woman!
[Morris doesn’t move. He stares at Zachariah blankly. When the latter pauses for a second, Morris speaks again in an almost normal voice.]
MORRIS. Supper’s ready.
[Zachariah loses the train of his thought, as with the alarm clock, earlier. Morris sits down.]
So . . . where were we? Yes. Our plans. When, Zach? That’s the next thing we got to think about. Should we take our chance with a hundred rands, one hundred and fifty? I mean . . . we could even wait till there is three hundred, isn’t that so?
[Morris has already started on his supper. As if hypnotized by the sound of the other man’s voice Zachariah fetches a chair and sits.]
So what are we going to do, you ask? This. Find out what the deposit, cash, on a small two-man farm, in one of those blank spaces, is. Take some bread, man. [Offering a slice.]
ZACHARIAH. No! [Hurls his slice of bread into a corner of the shack.]
MORRIS. What’s this?
[Zachariah sweeps away the plate of food in front of him.]
Zach!
ZACHARIAH. You’re not going to make me forget. I won’t. I’m not going to. We had woman I tell you. [Pounding the table with his fists.] Woman! Woman! Woman!
MORRIS. Do you still want the farm?
ZACHARIAH. Shut up! I won’t listen.
[Jumps up and rushes across to the other side of the room where his jacket is hanging, and begins to put it on.]
What do you think I am, hey? Two legs and trousers. I’m a man. And in this world there is also woman, and the one has got to get the other. Even donkeys know that. What I want to know now, right this very now, is why me, Zach, a man, for a whole miserable year has had none. I was doing all right before that, wasn’t I? Minnie used to come. He had a bottle, or I had a bottle, but we both had a good time, for a long time. And then you came . . . and then . . . and then . . . [Pause.]
MORRIS. Go on . . . say it.
ZACHARIAH. . . . then you came. That’s all.
[Zachariah’s violence is ebbing away. Perplexity takes its place.]
You knocked on the door. Friday night. I remember, I got a fright. A knocking on my door on Friday night? On my door? Who? Not Minnie. Minnie’s coming all right, but not like that. So I had a look, and it was you standing there, and you said something, hey? What did I say? ‘Come in.’ Didn’t I? ‘Come in,’ I said. And when we had eaten I said, ‘Come out with me and a friend of mine, called Minnie.’ Then you said: ‘Zach, let us spend tonight talking,’ Ja, that’s it. That’s all. A whole year of spending tonights talking, talking. I’m sick of talking. I’m sick of this room.
MORRIS. I know, Zach. [He speaks quietly, soothingly.] That’s why we got plans for the future.
ZACHARIAH. But I was in here ten years without plans and never needed them!
MORRIS. Time, Zach. It passes.
ZACHARIAH. I was in here ten years and didn’t worry about my feet, or a future, or having supper on time! But I had fun and Minnie’s music!
MORRIS. That’s life for you, Zach. The passing of time, and worthless friends.
ZACHARIAH. I want woman.
MORRIS. I see. I see that, Zach. Believe me, I do. But let me think about it. Okay? Now have some supper and I’ll think about it.
[Morris puts his own plate of food in front of Zachariah and then moves around the room picking up the food that Zachariah swept to the floor.]
You get fed up with talking, I know, Zach. But it helps, man. [At the window.] You find the answers to things, like we are going to find the answer to your problem. I mean . . . look what it’s done for us already. Our plans! Our future! You should be grateful, man. And remember what I said. You’re not the only one who’s sick of this room. It also gets me down. [Turning to Zachariah, leaving the window.] Have you noticed, Zach, the days are getting shorter, the nights longer? Autumn is in our smelly air. It’s the time I came back, hey! About a year ago! We should have remembered what day it was, though. Would have made a good birthday, don’t you think? A candle on a cake for the day that Morris came back to Zach.
[Zachariah leaves the table and goes to his bed.]
You finished?
ZACHARIAH. Ja.
MORRIS. [Pause. Morris makes the sandwiches.] Has it helped, Zach?
ZACHARIAH. What?
MORRIS. The talking.
ZACHARIAH. Helped what?
MORRIS. About . . . woman.
ZACHARIAH. It’s still there, Morrie. You said you was going to think about it and me.
MORRIS. I’m still busy, Zach. It takes time. Shall I talk some more?
ZACHARIAH. Let me!
[He speaks eagerly. The first sign of life since the outburst.]
Let me talk about . . . woman.
MORRIS. You think it wise?
ZACHARIAH. You said it helps. I want to help.
MORRIS. GO on.
ZACHARIAH. YOU know what I was remembering, Morrie? As I sat there?
MORRIS. No.
ZACHARIAH. Guess.
MORRIS. I can’t.
ZACHARIAH. [Soft, nostalgic smile.] The first one. My very first one. You was already gone. It was in those years. [Sigh.] Her name was Connie.
MORRIS. That’s a lovely name, Zach.
ZACHARIAH. Connie Ferreira.
MORRIS. You were happy, hey?
ZACHARIAH. Ja.
MORRIS. Don’t be shy. Tell me more.
ZACHARIAH. We were young. Her mother did the washing. Connie used to buy blue soap from the Chinaman on the corner.
MORRIS. Your sweetheart, hey!
ZACHARIAH. I waited for her.
MORRIS. Was it true love?
ZACHARIAH. She called me a black hotnot, the bitch, so I waited for her. She had tits like fruits and I was waiting in the bushes.
MORRIS [absolute loss of interest]. Yes, Zach.
ZACHARIAH. She was coming along alone. Hell! Don’t I remember Connie now! Coming along alone she was and I was waiting in the bushes. [Laugh.] She got a fright, she did. She tried to fight, to bite . . .
MORRIS. All right, Zach!
ZACHARIAH. She might have screamed, but when I had her . . .
MORRIS. All right, Zach! [Pause.]
ZACHARIAH. That was Connie. [He broods.]
MORRIS. Feeling better?
ZACHARIAH. A little.
MORRIS. Talking helps, doesn’t it? I said so. You find the answers to things.
ZACHARIAH. Talking to one would help me even more.
MORRIS. [Pause.] You mean to a woman?
ZACHARIAH. I’m telling you, Morrie, I really mean it, man. With all my heart.
MORRIS [the idea is coming]. There’s a thought there, Zach.
ZACHARIAH. There is?
MORRIS. In fact I think I’ve got it.
ZACHARIAH. What?
MORRIS. The answer to your problem.
ZACHARIAH. Woman?
MORRIS. That’s it! You said talking to one would help you, didn’t you? So what about writing? Just as good, isn’t it, if she writes back?
ZACHARIAH. Who . . . who you talking about?
MORRIS. A pen-pal. Zach! A corresponding pen-pal of the opposite sex! Don’t you know them? [Zachariah’s face is blank.] It’s a woman, you see! [Looking for newspaper.] She wants a man friend, but she’s in another town, so she writes to him—to you!
ZACHARIAH. No, I don’t know her.
MORRIS. You will. You’re her pen-pal!
ZACHARIAH. I don’t write letters.
MORRIS. I will write them for you.
ZACHARIAH. Then it’s your pen-pal.
MORRIS. NO, Zach. You tell me what to say. You see, she writes to you. She doesn’t even know about me. Can’t you see it, man? A letter to Mr Zachariah Pietersen—from her.
ZACHARIAH. I don’t read letters.
MORRIS. I’ll read them to you.
ZACHARIAH. From a woman.
MORRIS. From a woman. You can take your pick.
ZACHARIAH [now really interested]. Hey!
MORRIS. There’s so many.
ZACHARIAH. Is that so!
MORRIS. Big ones, small ones.
ZACHARIAH. What do you know about that!
MORRIS. Young ones, old ones.
ZACHARIAH. No. Not the old ones, Morrie. [Excited.] The young ones, on the small side.
MORRIS. Just take your pick.
ZACHARIAH. Okay. I will.
MORRIS. Now listen, Zach. When you get your pay tomorrow, go to a shop and ask for a newspaper with pen-pals.
ZACHARIAH. With pen-pals.
MORRIS. That’s it. We’ll study them and you can make your pick.
ZACHARIAH. And I can say what I like? Hey! What do you know! Pen-pals!
[The alarm-clock rings.]
Pen-pals!
[Zachariah flops back on his bed laughing. Morris drifts to the window.]
MORRIS. Wind’s coming up. You sleepy?
ZACHARIAH. It’s been a long day.
MORRIS. Okay, I’ll cut it short. Your turn to choose the reading tonight, Zach.
[Morris fetches the Bible from the shelf over his bed. He hands it to Zachariah who, with his eyes tightly closed, opens it and brings his finger down on the page.]
Four?
[Zachariah nods. Morris reads.]
‘And if thou bring an oblation of a meat offering baken in the oven, it shall be unleavened cakes of fine flour mingled with oil, or unleavened wafers anointed with oil; and if thy oblation be a meat offering baken in a pan, it shall be of fine flour, unleavened, mingled with oil. Thou shalt part it in pieces and pour oil thereon. It is a meat offering.’
ZACHARIAH. Sounds nice, hey?
MORRIS. You need an oven, Zach. Think of those you love. Ask for what you really want.
ZACHARIAH. Dear God, please bring back Minnie.
MORRIS. Is that all?
ZACHARIAH. Amen.
[Morris replaces the Bible, finds needle and cotton, and then takes Zachariah’s coat to the table.]
MORRIS. I’m helping you, aren’t I, Zach?
ZACHARIAH. Ja.
MORRIS. I want to believe that. You see . . . [Pause.] There was all those years, when I was away.
ZACHARIAH. Why did you come back?
MORRIS. I was passing this way.
ZACHARIAH. So why did you stay?
MORRIS. We are brothers, remember.
[A few seconds pass in silence. Morris threads his needle and then starts working on a tear in Zachariah’s coat.]
That’s a word, hey! Brothers! There’s a broody sound for you if ever there was. I mean . . . take the others. Father. What is there for us in . . . Father? We never knew him. Even Mother. She died and we were young. That’s the trouble with ‘Mother’. We never said it enough.
[He tries it.]
Mother. Mother! Yes. Just a touch of sadness in it, and a grey dress on Sundays, soapsuds on brown hands. That’s the lot. Father, Mother, and the sisters we haven’t got. But brothers! Try it. Brotherhood. Brother-in-arms, each other’s arms. Brotherly love. That’s a big one, hey, Zach? Zach?
[He looks at Zachariah’s bed.]
Zachie? Zachariah!
[He is asleep. Morris takes the lamp, goes to the bed, and looks down at the sleeping man. He returns to the table, picks up the Bible and after an inward struggle speaks in a solemn, ‘Sunday’ voice.]
‘And he said, what hast thou done? The voice of thy brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground. And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother’s blood from thy hand. When thou tillest the ground it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength, a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth.’
[Pause.]
Oh Lord, Lord. So I turned around on the road, and came back. About this time, a year ago. It could have been today. I remember turning off the road and heading this way. I thought: it looks the same. It was. Because when I reached the first pondokkies and the thin dogs, the wind turned and brought the stink from the lake. No one recognized me after all those years. I could see they weren’t sure, and wanting to say ‘Sir’ when I asked them the way. Six down, they said, pointing to the water’s edge. So then there was only time left for a few short thoughts between counting doors. Will he be home? Will I be welcome? Be forgiven? Be brave, Morris! I held my breath . . . knocked . . . and waited . . .
[Pause.]
You were wearing this old coat . . .
[Morris puts on Zachariah’s coat. It is several sizes too large.]
It’s been a big help to me, this warm, old coat. You get right inside a man when you can wrap up in the smell of him. It prepared me for your flesh, Zach. Because your flesh, you see, has an effect on me. The sight of it, the feel of it . . . It feels, you see . . . I saw you again after all those years . . . and it hurt, man.
