Read Etiquette and Vitriol for Free Online Page A

soot from the cars and buses was making me sicker and sicker! And we were all together, standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change. AND IT WOULDN’T! It would not! We stood for hours! We waited weeks and the fucking light WOULD NOT CHANGE! And then . . . it turned green—I KNOW IT TURNED GREEN! I KNOW IT! So I staggered, or stumbled or walked into the street and a car, FROM NOWHERE, came zooming at me! It was headed directly at me!! It was going to kill me!! I WAS GOING TO DIE!
    It swerved! It swerved to the side! Onto the curb and all at once the children were screaming! SCREAMING! But I didn’t look back! I RAN! I couldn’t turn around! I RAN! Past the diner!! I don’t know what happened! I DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! I RAN! STRAIGHT TO MY BUILDING AND HOME!
    (Bea’s light returns.)
    BEA (Simply) : What do you think happened?
    AMANDA: I don’t know.
    BEA: You think someone was hit?
    AMANDA: I said, I don’t know! I didn’t look.
    BEA: Was it on the news?
    AMANDA (With great bitterness) : That light was green! I didn’t do anything wrong! I wasn’t driving the goddamn car! I didn’t do anything!
    BEA: Maybe nothing happened.
    AMANDA: I do not want to talk about this! This is not why I called you! My husband is gone and I haven’t eaten in a week and I don’t have a purse and THIS IS NOT WHY I CALLED YOU! YOU ARE NOT HELPING ME!
    (A long pause. General lighting has returned, but it is a good deal dimmer.)
    BEA: What are you wearing?
    AMANDA: What? Why do you ask?
    BEA: Answer the question.
    AMANDA: A T-shirt.
    BEA: Change your clothes.
    AMANDA: My life is in a shambles and—
    BEA: Change your clothes!
    AMANDA: I fail to see how that—
    BEA: You have a shorty nightgown?
    AMANDA: Yes.
    BEA: Put it on.
    AMANDA: No.
    BEA: Do what I’m telling you.
    AMANDA: I don’t want to.
    BEA: Put. It. On.
    AMANDA: What are you talking about?
    BEA: Everything looks one hundred percent better from inside a shorty nightgown.
    AMANDA (Ironic) : That is very, very wise.
    BEA: Listen to me. He’ll be back.
    AMANDA: Who cares? Who cares? I don’t care anymore . . .
    BEA: You fancy yourself some modern woman. But you know, things don’t change. Some things are forever. The food chain is as it always was. Men rule the world. But penises rule men! And who rules the penises? We do, darling. People panic. People do things. But he’ll be back. And when he comes back, not one word out of you! You hear me? Don’t ask him where he’s been. Act like nothing happened.
    AMANDA: You’re insane.
    BEA: I will not tolerate rudeness! . . . Let me tell you, when I married my late husband, I was pregnant—not with his kid, but I was pregnant. I was very good-looking when I was younger. But the father wasn’t Jewish, so I decided—or actually, my mother decided, it wouldn’t go. So I married what’shisname, my dead husband. I’ll never forget waking up, in Atlantic City, the day after. I’m wide awake, staring at this fat lump of hairy nothing that I married, and, let me tell you, if I coulda run, I woulda. But I was going to have a child. So, instead, I just pulled the hair on his back as hard as I could. You see my point?
    (A key turns in the door.)
    AMANDA: Shut up!
    BEA: I will not tolerate—
    AMANDA: Someone’s at the door!
    (Bea disappears. The door opens, revealing Ford. He and Amanda stand, just looking at each other for a moment.)
    Ford. . . . WHERE’VE YOU BEEN?
    BEA (On the speaker phone) : I told ya not to ask him that!
    (Amanda hangs up the phone.)
    AMANDA (After a pause) : I mean it doesn’t really matter where you’ve been, does it? You’ve been working on a film. I understand. I know that the creative process is a very delicate flower. And you’ve been working. Haven’t you?
    (Ford sits. He is deep in thought and deeply troubled. He has something to say, but it is very