The Price (UK Edition)
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Victor, a New York cop nearing retirement, moves among furniture in the disused attic of a house marked for demolition. Cabinets, desks, a damaged harp, an overstuffed armchair - the relics of a lost life of affluence he's finally come to sell. But when his brother Walter, who he hasn't spoken to in years, arrives, the talk stops being just about whether Victor's been offered a fair price for the furniture, and turns to the price that one and not the other of them paid when their father lost both his fortune and the will to go on ...
laughs. In fact, my own apartment is so loaded up it doesn’t look too different from this. ESTHER: Well, maybe you’ll get married again. WALTER: I doubt that very much, Esther.—I often feel I never should have. ESTHER, scoffing: Why! WALTER: Seriously. I’m in a strange business, you know. There’s too much to learn and far too little time to learn it. And there’s a price you have to pay for that. I tried awfully hard to kid myself but there’s simply no time for people. Not the way a woman
think differently. All I have now is a small apartment. And I got rid of the nursing homes— VICTOR: What nursing homes? WALTER, with a removed self-amusement: Oh, I owned three nursing homes. There’s big money in the aged, you know. Helpless, desperate children trying to dump their parents—nothing like it. I even pulled out of the market. Fifty percent of my time now is in City hospitals. And I tell you, I’m alive. For the first time. I do medicine, and that’s it. Attempting an intimate grin:
with Esther. What’s impossible? … What do you want, Walter! WALTER—in the pause is the admission that he indeed has not leveled yet. And there is fear in his voice: I wanted to be of some use. I’ve learned some painful things, but it isn’t enough to know; I wanted to act on what I know. VICTOR: Act—in what way? WALTER, knowing it may be a red flag, but his honor is up: I feel … I could be of help. Why live, only to repeat the same mistakes again and again? I didn’t want to let the chance go
you old mutt—rob them blind, they love it! Letting go, he turns to Victor. You will never, never again make me ashamed! He strides toward the doorway. A gown lies on the dining table, spread out, and he is halted in surprise at the sight of it. Suddenly Walter sweeps it up in his hands and rushes at Victor, flinging the gown at him with an outcry. Victor backs up at his wild approach. VICTOR: Walter! The flicker of a humiliated smile passes across Walter’s face. He wants to disappear into air.
hell you’re up to. SOLOMON, raising a finger: We will now talk money. He returns to the center chair. VICTOR: Great. I mean you can’t blame me—every time you open your mouth the price seems to go down. SOLOMON, sitting: My boy, the price didn’t change since I walked in. VICTOR, laughing: That’s even better! So what’s the price? Solomon glances about, his wit failed, a sunk look coming over his face. What’s going on? What’s bothering you? SOLOMON: I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I thought