Meeting with Phoebe

ST-R. She wakes up very easily. All you have to do is sit down on the bed &say, 'Wake up, Phoeb,' &bingo, she’s awake.

PHOEBE. Holden! (put her arms around my neck)

STORYTELLER. She’s very affectionate. I mean she’s quite affectionate, for a child. (I sort of gave her a kiss)

PHOEBE. Whenja get home?

STORYTELLER. She was glad as hell to see me. You could tell.

HOLDEN. Not so loud. Just now. How are ya anyway?

PHOEBE. I’m fine. Did you get my letter? I wrote you a five-page—

HOLDEN. Yeah—not so loud. Thanks.

STRTR. She wrote me this letter. I didn’t get a chance to answer it, though. It was all about this play she was in.

HOLDEN. How’s the play?

PHOEBE. It stinks, but I have practically the biggest part.

STORYTELLER. Boy, was she wide-awake. She gets very excited when she tells you that stuff.

PHOEBE. Are you coming to it? (She was sitting way the hell up in the bed) That’s what I wrote you about. Are you?

HOLDEN. Sure I’m coming. Certainly I’m coming.

PHOEBE. Listen. Mother said you’d be home Wednesday. She said Wednesday.

HOLDEN. I got out early. Not so loud. You’ll wake everybody up.

PHOEBE. They went to a party. Guess what I did this afternoon! What movie I saw. Guess!

HOLDEN. I don’t know—Listen. Did they say what time they’d be back, or didn’t they?

PHOEBE. No, but not till very late.

STORYTELLER. I began to relax, sort of. I mean I finally quit worrying about whether they’d catch me home or not. I figured the hell with it. If they did, they did.

HOLDEN. Listen, I bought you a record. Only I broke it on the way home. (took the pieces out) I was plastered.

PHOEBE. Gimme the pieces. I’m saving them. (took them. She kills me.)

HOLDEN. What’d you do to your arm? (she had this big hunk of adhesive tape on her elbow)

PHOEBE. This boy that’s in my class pushed me while I was going down the stairs in the park. Wanna see?

HOLDEN. Leave it alone. Why’d he push you down the stairs?

PHOEBE. I don’t know. I think he hates me. This other girl &me put ink and stuff all over his windbreaker.

HOLDEN. That isn’t nice. What are you—a child, for God’s sake?

PHOEBE. No, but every time I’m in the park, he follows me everywhere. He gets on my nerves.

HOLDEN. He probably likes you. That’s no reason to put ink all—

PHOEBE. I don’t want him to like me. (looking at me funny) Holden, how come you’re not home Wednesday?

HOLDEN. What?

STORYTELLER. Boy, you have to watch her every minute. If you don’t think she’s smart, you’re mad.

PHOEBE. How come you’re not home Wednesday? You didn’t get kicked out or anything, did you?

HOLDEN. I told you. They let us out early. They let the whole—

PHOEBE. You did get kicked out! You did! (hit me on the leg with her fist)

STORYTELLER. She gets very fisty when she feels like it.

PHOEBE. You did! Oh, Holden! (her hand on her mouth)

STORYTELLER. She gets very emotional, I swear to God.

HOLDEN. Who said I got kicked out? Nobody said I—

PHOEBE. You did. You did. (smacked me again with her fist)

STORYTELLER. If you don’t think that hurts, you’re crazy.

PHOEBE. Daddy’ll kill you! (flopped on her stomach on the bed and put the goddam pillow over her head)

HOLDEN. Cut it out, now. Nobody’s gonna kill me. Nobody’s gonna even—C’mon, Phoeb, take that goddam thing off your head. Nobody’s gonna kill me.

STORYTELLER. She wouldn’t take it off, though. You can’t make her do something if she doesn’t want to.

PHOEBE. Daddy’s gonna kill you. (with that goddam pillow over her head)

HOLDEN. Nobody’s gonna kill me. Use your head. In the first place, I’m going away. I may get a job on a ranch or something. I know this guy whose grandfather’s got a ranch in Colorado. C’mon. Take that off your head. C’mon, hey, Phoeb. Please. Please, willya?

STORYTELLER. She strong as hell. You get tired fighting with her.

HOLDEN. Phoebe, please. C’mon outa there. C’mon, hey… Hey, Weatherfield. C’mon out.

STRTLR. She wouldn’t come out, though. You can’t even reason with her sometimes. (I went out) I was all out.

PHOEBE. Daddy’ll kill you.

HOLDEN. No, he won’t. The worst he’ll do, he’ll give me hell again, &then he’ll send me to that goddam military school. &in the first place, I won’t even be around. I’ll be—I’ll probably be in Colorado on this ranch.

PHOEBE. Don’t make me laugh. You can’t even ride a horse.

HOLDEN. Who can’t? Sure I can. Certainly I can. They can teach you in about two minutes.

PHOEBE. (very snotty) I suppose you failed in every single subject again.

STORYTELLER. She sounds like a goddam schoolteacher sometimes, and she’s only a little child.

HOLDEN. No, I didn’t. I passed English. (I gave her a pinch on the behind, she tried to hit my hand, but missed)

PHOEBE. Oh, why did you do it? (It made me sort of sad, the way she said it)

H. Oh, God, Phoebe, don’t ask me. I’m sick of everybody asking me that. A million reasons why. It was one of the worst schools I ever went to. It was full of phonies. &mean guys. It was a stinking school. Take my word.

STORYTELLER. She always listens when you tell her something.

HLDEN. Even the couple of nice teachers were phonies, too. There was this one old guy, Mr. Spencer. His wife was always giving you hot chocolate, &they were really pretty nice.But you should’ve seen him when the head-master,old Thurmer,came in the history class to crack a lot of corny jokes.Old Spencer’d practically kill himself chuckling &smiling &all, like as if Thurmer was a goddam prince or something.

PHOEBE. Don’t swear so much.

HOLDEN. Then, on Veterans’ Day.They have this day that all the jerks that graduated from Pencey around 1776 come back,with their wives&children&everybody.You should’ve seen this one old guy that was about fifty. He came &asked us if we’d mind if he used the bathroom. He wanted to see if his initials were still in one of the can doors. He carved his goddam stupid sad old initials about ninety years ago, &he wanted to see if they were still there. So we had to stand there while he looked for his initials in all the can doors. He kept telling us how when he was at Pencey they were the happiest days of his life, &giving us a lot of advice for the future & all.

STLR. Boy, did he depress me! I don’t mean he was a bad guy—he wasn’t. But you don’t have to be a bad guy to depress somebody. All you have to do is give them a lot of phony advice while you’re looking for your initials in some can door—that’s all you have to do.

HOLDEN. God, Phoebe! I can’t explain. I just didn’t like anything that was happening at Pencey. I can’t explain.

PHOEBE. You don’t like anything that’s happening.

HOLDEN. (even more depressed) Yes I do. Yes I do. Sure I do. Don’t say that. Why the hell do you say that?

PHOEBE. Because you don’t. You don’t like any schools. You don’t like a million things. You don’t.

HLDN. I do!That’s where you’re wrong—that’s exactly where you’re wrong!Why the hell do u have to say that?

STORYTELLER. Boy, was she depressing me.

PHOEBE. Because you don’t. Name one thing.

HOLDEN. One thing? One thing I like? Okay.

STORYTELLER. The trouble was, I couldn’t concentrate too hot. Sometimes it’s hard to concentrate.

HOLDEN. One thing I like a lot you mean? (She didn’t answer me, though. She was about a thousand miles away)

PHOEBE. You can’t even think of one thing.

HOLDEN. Yes, I can. Yes, I can.

PHOEBE. Well, do it, then.

HOLDEN. I like Allie. And I like sitting here with you, and talking, and thinking about stuff, and—

PHBE. Allie’s dead—You always say that! If somebody’s dead &everything, &in Heaven, then it isn’t really—

HOLDEN. I know he’s dead! Don’t you think I know that? Just because somebody’s dead, you don’t just stop liking them, for God’s sake—especially if they were about a 1000 times nicer than the people that’re alive &all.

PH. All right, name something else.Name something you’d like to be.Like a scientist.Or a lawyer or something.

HOLDEN. I couldn’t be a scientist. I’m no good in science.

PHOEBE. Well, a lawyer—like Daddy and all.

H-N. Lawyers are all right, I guess—if they go around saving innocent guys’ lives, but you don’t do that kind of stuff.All you do is make a lot of dough&play golf&play bridge&buy cars&drink Martinis&look like a hot-shot. &besides.How would you know if you really wanted to save guys’ lives, or to be a terrific lawyer, with everybody slapping you on the back&congratulating u?How would u know? The trouble is, you wouldn’t.

STORYTELLER. I’m not too sure old Phoebe knew what the hell I was talking about. I mean she’s only a little child and all. But she was listening, at least. If somebody at least listens, it’s not too bad.

PHOEBE. Daddy’s going to kill you. He’s going to kill you.

HOLDEN. You know what I’d like to be? You know what I’d like to be? I mean if I had my goddam choice?

PHOEBE. What? Stop swearing.

HOLDEN. You know that song ‘If a body catch a body comin’ through the rye’? I’d like—

PHOEBE. It’s ‘If a body meet a body coming through the rye’! It’s a poem. By Robert Burns.

HOLDEN. I know it’s a poem by Robert Burns.

STORYTELLER. She was right, though. It is “If a body meet a body coming through the rye.”

H-N. I thought it was ‘If a body catch a body'. Picture all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye. Thousands of little kids, &nobody’s around—except me. &I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they’re running &they don’t look where they’re going. That’s all I’d do all day.I’d just be the catcher in the rye.I know it’s crazy,but that’s the only thing I’d really like to be.

PHOEBE. (long silence) Daddy’s going to kill you.

HLDEN. I don’t give a damn if he does. (got up) I have to make a phone call. I’ll be right back. Don’t go to sleep.

PHOEBE. Holden! (I turned around) I’m taking belching lessons from this girl, Phyllis Margulies. Listen.

STORYTELLER. I listened, and I heard something, but it wasn’t much.

HOLDEN. Good. Then I went out in the living room and called up this teacher I had, Mr. Antolini.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14