The Miracle Worker (13 page)

Momma's gonna buy you a cart and bull:

If that cart and bull turns over,

Momma's gonna buy you a dog named Rover;

If that dog named Rover won't bark—

(With the shaft of moonlight on
HELEN,
and
JAMES,
and
KELLER,
and
KATE,
all moveless, and
ANNIE
rocking the doll, the curtain ends the act.)

The stage is totally dark, until we see
ANNIE
and
HELEN
silhouetted on the bed in the garden house.
ANNIE'S
voice is audible, very patient, and worn; it has been saying this for a long time.

ANNIE:
Water, Helen. This is water. W, a, t, e, r. It has a
name.

(A silence. Then:)

Egg, e, g, g. It has a
name,
the name stands for the thing. Oh, it's so simple, simple as birth, to explain.

(The lights have commenced to rise, not on the garden house but on the homestead. Then:)

Helen, Helen, the chick
has
to come out of its shell, sometime. You come out, too.

(In the bedroom upstairs, we see
VINEY
unhurriedly washing the window, dusting, turning the mattress, readying the room for use again; then in the family room a diminished group at one end of the table—
KATE, KELLER, JAMES
—finishing up a quiet breakfast; then outside, down right, the other Negro servant on his knees, assisted by
MARTHA,
working with a trowel around a new trellis and wheelbarrow. The scene is one of everyday calm, and all are oblivious to
ANNIE'S
voice.)

There's only one way out, for you, and it's language. To learn that your fingers can talk. And say anything, anything you can name. This is mug. Mug, m, u, g. Helen, it has a
name.
It—has—a—
name
—

(
KATE
rises from the table.)

KELLER
[
GENTLY
]: You haven't eaten, Katie.

KATE
[
SMILES, SHAKES HER HEAD
]: I haven't the appetite. I'm too—restless, I can't sit to it.

KELLER:
You should eat, my dear. It will be a long day, waiting.

JAMES
[
LIGHTLY
]: But it's been a short two weeks. I never thought life could be so—noiseless, went much too quickly for me.

(
KATE
and
KELLER
gaze at him, in silence.
JAMES
becomes uncomfortable.)

ANNIE:
C, a, r, d. Card. C, a—

JAMES:
Well, the house has been practically normal, hasn't it?

KELLER
[
HARSHLY
]: Jimmie.

JAMES:
Is it wrong to enjoy a quiet breakfast, after five years? And you two even seem to enjoy each other—

KELLER:
It could be even more noiseless, Jimmie, without your tongue running every minute. Haven't you enough feeling to imagine what Katie has been undergoing, ever since—

(
KATE
stops him, with her hand on his arm.)

KATE:
Captain.

(To
JAMES.
)

It's true. The two weeks have been normal, quiet, all you say. But not short. Interminable.

(She rises, and wanders out; she pauses on the porch steps, gazing toward the garden house.)

ANNIE
[
FADING
]: W, a, t, e, r. But it means
this.
W, a, t, e, r.
This.
W, a, t—

JAMES:
I only meant that Miss Sullivan is a boon. Of contention, though, it seems.

KELLER
[
HEAVILY
]: If and when you're a parent, Jimmie, you will understand what separation means. A mother loses a—protector.

JAMES
[
BAFFLED
]: Hm?

KELLER:
You'll learn, we don't just keep our children safe. They keep us safe.

(He rises, with his empty coffee cup and saucer.)

There are of course all kinds of separation, Katie has lived with one kind for five years. And another is disappointment. In a child.

(He goes with the cup out the rear door.
JAMES
sits for a long moment of stillness. In the garden house the lights commence to come up;
ANNIE,
haggard at the table, is writing a letter, her face again almost in contact with the stationery;
HELEN,
apart on the stool, and for the first time as clean and neat as a button, is quietly crocheting an endless chain of wool, which snakes all around the room.)

ANNIE:
“I, feel, every, day, more, and, more, in—”

(She pauses, and turns the pages of a dictionary open before her; her finger descends the words to a full stop. She elevates her eyebrows, then copies the word.)

“—adequate.”

(In the main house
JAMES
pushes up, and goes to the front doorway, after
KATE.
)

JAMES:
Kate?

(
KATE
turns her glance.
JAMES
is rather weary.)

I'm sorry. Open my mouth, like that fairy tale, frogs jump out.

KATE:
No. It has been better. For everyone.

(She starts away, up center.)

ANNIE
[
WRITING
]: “If, only, there, were, someone, to, help, me, I, need, a, teacher, as, much, as, Helen—”

JAMES:
Kate.

(
KATE
halts, waits.)

What does he want from me?

KATE:
That's not the question. Stand up to the world, Jimmie, that comes first.

JAMES
[
A PAUSE, WRYLY
]: But the world is him.

KATE:
Yes. And no one can do it for you.

JAMES:
Kate.

(His voice is humble.)

At least we— Could you—be my friend?

KATE:
I am.

(
KATE
turns to wander, up back of the garden house.
ANNIE'S
murmur comes at once; the lights begin to die on the main house.)

ANNIE:
“—my, mind, is, undisciplined, full, of, skips, and, jumps, and—”

(She halts, rereads, frowns.)

Hm.

(
ANNIE
puts her nose again in the dictionary, flips back to an earlier
page, and fingers down the words;
KATE
presently comes down toward the bay window with a trayful of food.)

Disinter—disinterested—disjoin—dis—

(She backtracks, indignant.)

Disinterested, disjoin— Where's disipline?

(She goes a page or two back, searching with her finger, muttering.)

What a dictionary, have to know how to spell it before you can look up how to spell it, disciple,
discipline!
Diskipline.

(She corrects the word in her letter.)

Undisciplined.

(But her eyes are bothering her, she closes them in exhaustion and gently fingers the eyelids.
KATE
watches her through the window.)

KATE:
What are you doing to your eyes?

(
ANNIE
glances around; she puts her smoked glasses on, and gets up to come over, assuming a cheerful energy.)

ANNIE:
It's worse on my vanity! I'm learning to spell. It's like a surprise party, the most unexpected characters turn up.

KATE:
You're not to overwork your eyes, Miss Annie.

ANNIE:
Well.

(She takes the tray, sets it on her chair, and carries chair and tray to
HELEN.
)

Whatever I spell to Helen I'd better spell right.

KATE
[
ALMOST WISTFUL
]: How—serene she is.

ANNIE:
She learned this stitch yesterday. Now I can't get her to stop!

(She disentangles one foot from the wool chain, and sets the chair before
HELEN. HELEN
at its contact with her knee feels the plate, promptly sets her crocheting down, and tucks the napkin in at her neck, but
ANNIE
withholds the spoon; when
HELEN
finds it missing, she folds her hands in her lap, and quietly waits.
ANNIE
twinkles at
KATE
with mock devoutness.)

Such a little lady, she'd sooner starve than eat with her fingers.

(She gives
HELEN
the spoon, and
HELEN
begins to eat, neatly.)

KATE:
You've taught her so much, these two weeks. I would never have—

ANNIE:
Not enough.

(She is suddenly gloomy, shakes her head.)

Obedience isn't enough. Well, she learned two nouns this morning, key and water, brings her up to eighteen nouns and three verbs.

KATE
[
HESITANT
]: But—not—

ANNIE:
No. Not that they mean things. It's still a finger-game, no meaning.

(She turns to
KATE,
abruptly.)

Mrs. Keller—

(But she defers it; she comes back, to sit in the bay and lift her hand.)

Shall we play our finger-game?

KATE:
How will she learn it?

ANNIE:
It will come.

(She spells a word;
KATE
does not respond.)

KATE:
How?

ANNIE
[
A PAUSE
]: How does a bird learn to fly?

(She spells again.)

We're born to use words, like wings, it has to come.

KATE:
How?

ANNIE
[
ANOTHER PAUSE, WEARILY
]: All right. I don't know how.

(She pushes up her glasses, to rub her eyes.)

I've done everything I could think of. Whatever she's learned here—keeping herself clean, knitting, stringing beads, meals, setting-up exercises each morning, we climb trees, hunt eggs, yesterday a chick was born in her hands—all of it I spell, everything we do, we never stop spelling. I go to bed with—writer's cramp from talking so much!

KATE:
I worry about you, Miss Annie. You must rest.

ANNIE:
Now? She spells back in her
sleep,
her fingers make letters when she doesn't know! In her bones those five fingers know, that hand aches to—speak out, and something in her mind is asleep, how do I—nudge that awake? That's the one question.

KATE:
With no answer.

ANNIE
[
LONG PAUSE
]: Except keep at it. Like this.

(She again begins spelling—I, need—and
KATE'S
brows gather, following the words.)

KATE:
More—time?

(She glances at
ANNIE,
who looks her in the eyes, silent.)

Here?

ANNIE:
Spell it.

(
KATE
spells a word—no—shaking her head;
ANNIE
spells two words—why, not—back, with an impatient question in her eyes; and
KATE
moves her head in pain to answer it.)

KATE:
Because I can't—

ANNIE:
Spell it! If she ever learns, you'll have a lot to tell each other, start now.

(
KATE
painstakingly spells in air. In the midst of this the rear door opens, and
KELLER
enters with the setter
BELLE
in tow.)

KELLER:
Miss Sullivan? On my way to the office, I brought Helen a playmate—

ANNIE:
Outside please, Captain Keller.

KELLER:
My dear child, the two weeks are up today, surely you don't object to—

ANNIE
[
RISING
]: They're not up till six o'clock.

KELLER
[
INDULGENT
]: Oh, now. What difference can a fraction of one day—

ANNIE:
An agreement is an agreement. Now you've been very good, I'm sure you can keep it up for a few more hours.

(She escorts
KELLER
by the arm over the threshold; he obeys, leaving
BELLE.
)

KELLER:
Miss Sullivan, you are a tyrant.

ANNIE:
Likewise, I'm sure. You can stand there, and close the door if she comes.

KATE:
I don't think you know how eager we are to have her back in our arms—

ANNIE:
I do know, it's my main worry.

KELLER:
It's like expecting a new child in the house. Well, she
is,
so—composed, so—