pp. 50—52 (SAMUEL FRENCH, INC.)
Robin: Did I ask you to pimp for me?
Margaret Mary: I beg your pardon?
Robin: (A careful warning.) You better stop trying to manipulate me.
Margaret Mary: Hmm?
Robin: Margaret Mary, the manipulator, that’s you.
Margaret Mary: What are you saying?
Robin: I’m saying you should behave yourself. Let people alone. I don’t go out and arrange things for you. I don’t go meeting men on buses and set them up with you. I’ve had enough men to last me, believe me. I went on a great binge when Peter Pan flew away, and what did it prove? Every man stunk. Who needs ’em? Maybe someday when I’m feeling charitable I’ll go out and get one, and it ain’t going to be a librarian. (She glares at MARGARET MARY.) I’m mad at you, Margaret Mary.
Margaret Mary: You seem mad.
Robin: I’m just trying to live my life, but, oh, no, that would be asking too much. There’s always a mother popping up to make sure I don’t get too good at it. I left one in Brooklyn, and I divorced another one. I don’t need any more mothers. Mothers are mothers! (She stands fuming at MARGARET MARY, who considers what she’s said.)
Margaret Mary: You should listen to yourself sometime. You’re starting to sound like Mr. Goo. (The doorbell rings. ROBIN stalks to the door, throws it open to reveal SERGE.)
Robin: Not now, Serge! (She slams the door.)
Serge: (Offstage.) I understand.
Robin: (Marching back to MARGARET MARY.) Look, I don’t have to stay here, you know. I can quit.
Margaret Mary: (Taken aback.) I know that, of course.
Robin: So what if I like to read newspapers and clip things out and put off my acting career for a little while and not waste time crapping around with my dorko friends? So what? So what?
Margaret Mary: (Reasonably.) So. It doesn’t seem very realistic to me, that’s all.
Robin: Oh, is that right?
Margaret Mary: It’s just that I find you a very unusual girl and I would love to see you challenge yourself a little bit. Realize some of your potential. And not . . . sort of avoid reality.
Robin: You don’t think I’m realistic, huh?
Margaret Mary: Um. Well, no.
Robin: (Stung, she counterattacks.) Do you think you’re realistic?
Margaret Mary: What?
Robin: Holing up in this mausoleum apartment, never talking to anybody you don’t feel like talking to . . . (Shouting.) That ain’t realistic, it’s bulltinky! You should be like me. At least I’m honest. At least I honestly know I’m screwing up.
Margaret Mary: What the hell are you talking about, Robin?
Robin: You know what you are? You’re a user! You can’t push me around like you do Cara. That makes you mad, doesn’t it?
Margaret Mary: You’re behaving like a real mutt, aren’t you?
Robin: Well, shit. Excuse me. You’re selfish, Margaret Mary. You’re too selfish to reach out very far to anybody. You’d rather pay for it. Well, groovy for you. You can buy me for fifty dollars a week, and I can be bought, because I don’t know what I’m doing maybe, but you don’t own me, see, you only rent me, and you’re not allowed to try to change me, that’s not in the contract. So there! What do you think of that? I’ll quit!
Margaret Mary: So what do you think of this? I’ll fire you.
Robin: Fine. Good. As you wish. (MARGARET MARY turns, trips on her walker, and falls in an awful heap. ROBIN rushes to help her, but MARGARET MARY pushes her away. ROBIN storms through the hall door, as MARGARET MARY pulls herself up. After a moment, the entrance door opens and CARA enters, looking very downcast.)
Cara: Hello. (MARGARET MARY doesn’t answer. ROBIN marches in, wearing a coat. MARGARET MARY watches her.) Hello. (She smiles at ROBIN, who walks right past her, scowling at MARGARET MARY.) Hello. (ROBIN doesn’t answer. She heads for the entrance door.)
Margaret Mary: Where are you going?
Robin: I’m going out. Is that all right? Should I turn in my key?
The following is the monologue created from the previous scene.
ROBIN (to MARGARET MARY), age 20s to 30s.
pp. 50—52 (SAMUEL FRENCH, INC.)
Did I ask you to pimp for me? You better stop trying to manipulate me. Margaret Mary, the manipulator, that’s you. I’m saying you should behave yourself. Let people alone. I don’t go out and arrange things for you. I don’t go meeting men on buses and set them up with you. I’ve had enough men to last me, believe me. I went on a great binge when Peter Pan flew away, and what did it prove? Every man stunk. Who needs em? Maybe someday when I’m feeling charitable I’ll go out and get one, and it ain’t going to be a librarian. I’m mad at you, Margaret Mary. I’m just trying to live my life, but, oh, no, that would be asking too much. There’s always a mother popping up to make sure I don’t get too good at it. I left one in Brooklyn, and I divorced another one. I don’t need any more mothers. Mothers are mothers!
Look, I don’t have to stay here, you know. I can quit. So what if I like to read newspapers and clip things out and put off my acting career for a little while and not waste time crapping around with my dorko friends? So what? So what? You don’t think I’m realistic, huh? Do you think you’re realistic? Holing up in this mausoleum apartment, never talking to anybody you don’t feel like talking to. . . (Shouting.) That ain’t realistic, it’s bulltinky! You should be like me. At least I’m honest. At least I honestly know I’m screwing up. You know what you are? You’re a user! You can’t push me around like you do Cara. That makes you mad, doesn’t it? Well, shit. Excuse me. You’re selfish, Margaret Mary. You’re too selfish to reach out very far to anybody. You’d rather pay for it. Well, groovy for you. You can buy me for fifty dollars a week, and I can be bought, because I don’t know what I’m doing maybe, but you don’t own me, see, you only rent me, and you’re not allowed to try to change me, that’s not in the contract. So there! What do you think of that? I’ll quit!
I’m going out. Is that all right? Should I turn in my key?
I’ve created this monologue not only because it is a good one but to show you the alternative to the “obvious” one recommended up to now. Naturally, the other one is a memory piece made up of a couple of blocks of dialogue. The “other” one is on pages 24 and 25 of the Samuel French edition of the play. Read Robin’s two speeches and compare them to this piece.
Robin, you are complaining to Margaret Mary about her mothering you too much. You’ve had it with mothers, you say. You want to make your own choices, right or wrong. You want to live your own life your way without anyone meddling. Okay. So far so good. But you also love the fact that she is meddling! I know, this is not on the pages. Put it in. Because a part of this is true. Mothers may be mothers, as you say. But the love that goes with their interfering is nice. It’s a pain in the butt. But it feels nice to be loved. You need love. You are feeling a certain kind of alienation. You’ve had a bad marriage. Your career has not taken off. Here you are, a paid companion to Margaret Mary, a very motherly person. You ran from your own mother because she was overbearing. It’s the overbearing that you don’t want, but it’s the love that you do want. You are asking her to butt out. But you don’t want her to stop loving you. Because you should realize that what she is doing, right or wrong, is being done with love. And you love her. And you do not want to move out and leave her. And you do not want her to tell you to leave. You don’t want to deal with another good-bye. You are also trying to help her. She has cut herself off from the entire outside world. She needs as much or more guidance than even you do. And you can help her to open up her life more so she won’t have time to deal with what’s wrong with your life but just love you, appreciate you, and allow you to grow and change as you will.