ACT TWO
11. The after-party
Leonard stepped up onto the landing and walked straight to Penny. He hesitated a moment, then wrapped her in an embrace. "You were incredible, Penny. Fantastic. That was an amazing experience. Congratulations."
Everyone on the landing relaxed. And in a moment all of the friends were around her, talking excitedly, congratulating, re-connecting. However, Penny could see Bernadette eyeing her closely. After a couple of minutes she said to the group, "Guys, I think we should give these two a little privacy." Penny could have kissed her.
There was further confusion, and an embarrassed silence. How to give them privacy? Howard cleared his throat, "Why don't we all go to the coffee shop for some dessert?"
Sheldon started to protest, with Amy trying desperately to shush him, but Penny smiled. "No need, guys. We can talk in my apartment." She took out her key and opened 4B.
The rest of the group was wide-eyed. Leonard asked, "You still live here?"
"No, I'm living with Audrey in Santa Monica. But I kept the place. It's not that expensive, now that I'm making good money. And…and, well, I kept the place."
Sheldon was relieved. "Well, thank goodness. With nobody coming and going for the last month, I thought the landlord was growing marijuana in there. I'm glad it's only you."
Amy shook her head, and the group headed to 4A.
Leonard and Penny entered Apartment 4B. They stood at the entrance as Penny turned the light on.
"Up to date on your bills, I see," Leonard joked. Penny smiled. A good start. But she wasn't sure how to proceed.
She figured she had to let him take the lead. And he did.
"Let's sit," Leonard suggested, taking the couch. She sat opposite him, looking at him closely. It was so hard not to go to him, to try to hold him. But she controlled herself.
"Seriously, Penny, you were marvelous. I couldn't imagine anything more impressive."
"Thanks. It was an amazing night. But I think you know what the high point of it was for me."
Leonard looked perplexed.
"Getting your flowers and note, Leonard."
"Oh, that. Well, you deserved that, and much more. But why aren't you at the opening night party? We got your invitation. But we decided not to go because we thought it might be uncomfortable for you, and we didn't want to take anything away from your night."
"Leonard, don't you understand? The play is wonderful, the party will be great, but the most important thing in my life is trying to figure out how we can be together." And she knew that she had to take the initiative.
Leonard winced a little. "Penny, that's not why I'm here. I'm here because I'm happy for you."
"I know, Leonard, I know. I'm not saying I expect you to jump into my arms now. But since you're here and since we're talking, there are things I have to tell you. Things I think you deserve to hear. Is that all right?"
"I guess," Leonard said, doubtfully.
"Leonard, my love." She stopped short. She had never called him that, but now it had just come out. He looked a little puzzled, but she went on. "I love you so much. I want to tell you so many things. But first, there's something more important."
"What's that?" he asked, still puzzled.
"How are you, Leonard? How are you doing? I know I hurt you so badly, I think about it every day, every hour of every day. I wonder how you're doing all the time. I wish I had a monitor on you so I could know if you're happy. I want you to be happy, so much. I don't want you to be sad." She stopped herself. "Sorry, I'm babbling."
"That's all right," he smiled. That smile again.
"Oh, Leonard, if you knew how I feel when you smile. I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you, too," he said, but his tone was very guarded. And it would be, she knew.
She smiled, too. "You haven't answered my question. How are you? Really?"
"I'm coping, I guess. I go to the lab a lot. I have a nice apartment. I listen to music."
"Not Alanis Morissette, I hope. That would be a bad sign."
"No, no," he laughed. "A mixture. It helps me calm myself. I've been working out pretty regularly, too. I find it relaxing."
"That's good. So how is your state of mind? Your mood?"
Leonard looked at her. "I'm sad, Penny. I'm terribly sad. I haven't gotten over what happened. Maybe I never will. Mostly I'm sad that I can't be with you. That's what hurts more than anything. I see something interesting and I think about what you would say about it. I have a problem and I wonder what you would suggest. Sometimes in the morning I turn to say something to you. But of course you're not there."
Penny couldn't keep the tears from rising now. "Me too, my love." This was the phrase now. Sweetie was too simple, too immature. She needed more. "I want to share so much with you."
Leonard nodded, sadly.
Penny looked at him. "Can I share something important with you? Something that might be important to you, too."
"All right."
"I've been seeing Dr. Gallo. Twice, sometimes three times a week. Since all this happened. And our main goal is to try to understand why I did what I did. Not to justify it, but so that I can get my mind around how I could have made the biggest mistake of my life. And so I never do something like that, ever again."
Leonard nodded, waiting, now curious.
"Remember after we got married, that little disagreement over Mandy?"
"Little disagreement! I thought we were through then," Leonard laughed.
"Everything's relative. But remember that we got over that because we realized why we were making it such an obstacle."
"That we both had reasons to sabotage the marriage."
"Right. So that's what I'm trying to get at with Dr. Gallo, how I could do something so terrible and why. And I think we're making progress."
"Do you want to tell me about it? You don't have to if it's too private."
"Leonard, I want to tell you everything, I want you to know everything. So, I came here from Nebraska with big dreams. And before I knew it my boyfriend had cheated on me, I'd gone nowhere with acting, I couldn't pay my bills, and I was stuck in a lousy job. I thought I was a failure. I was a failure."
Leonard began to protest, as Penny knew he would. "Shush. My story," she said.
"My life was a mess. My mind was a mess. Sure, I put up a good front. Still, inside I knew I had failed. But you were always there for me. And you helped me build up my confidence. You let me see that there was more to life than my silly tabloid desires." He tried to interject again, but she shook her head and kept going. "But at some level I was still a failure in my mind. The acting part was dead. Some part of my dreams were dead."
She took a deep breath. "Then I got this part. It was amazing. But it was all so new, and it seemed like it could disappear as fast as it came."
Now, the hard part. "The rehearsals weren't going well. That week was particularly bad. Remember, George was directing because Diane was out. He was frustrated with me. And I was scared that I was failing again. I really thought I was going to get fired. The Saturday one-on-one was the worst. I don't think I got through a single scene without George interrupting, and not in a good way. So when…another actor asked me to dinner, and treated me like I was part of the club, and told me that I was really good, I just lost control, I think. And everything that happened was like trying to prove that I actually had made it, that I was good enough to be a success."
Leonard was looking pensive. "I don't know if that makes sense," Penny said, "but that's what I've got. That's where I am with Dr. Gallo."
"It could be reasonable, I suppose," Leonard said, although he sounded unconvinced.
"I want to understand it better, to get at it more, my love. I'm trying, I really am. I'm trying so hard."
"I know, Penny."
There was a pause. Penny wanted to ask, but she was scared of the answer. But she needed to know.
"Leonard, before you said you were sad that you couldn't be with me. But you're here now. There was a time, you explained it, I understood, when you couldn't be with me at all. But you're here now. Does that mean we can spend time together?"
"Maybe," Leonard said. "I don't know. I'm confused."
Just then Penny's phone rang. She turned it over, ready to mute it, when she saw that it was Diane. She showed Leonard and he motioned to her to answer it.
"Hello?...Hi, Diane….Yes, I'm all right….No, I hadn't….Oh, that's wonderful. …OK, I'll look now. Thanks! See you tomorrow. And congratulations….Thanks."
She turned to Leonard. "Diane says the LA Times review is out." They both picked up their phones, searched, and read.
DiCaprio stars in After the Fall
New production of controversial Arthur Miller play premieres
By Christopher McMillan
Risk-taking abounded last night at the Westwood Playhouse. Staging Arthur Miller's "After the Fall" is a major risk: the play is often scorned as one of his least impressive offerings. It appears to be – and is usually presented as – a thinly veiled presentation of Miller's own life, especially his relationships with women. At the center is his stormy marriage to Marilyn Monroe, whom he divorced shortly before her suicide. To be sure, the playwright himself denied it, but most critics and audiences have cringed at Miller's depiction of a helpless, whining, spiteful Monroe.
Diane Green took on the risk of staging this controversial play – and the added risk of making this her directorial debut. The accomplished actor has directed several films, but legitimate theater is legitimately different, and not many film directors have made the transition to the stage.
An equally risky, and comparable, move was that by the play's leading man, playing Quentin, the Arthur Miller role. The part was taken by Leonardo DiCaprio, who so far as we know last performed live on stage while he was in high school. As with directing, the transition from film to stage is a difficult one, and DiCaprio hardly seems to be in a position in which he needs to take unnecessary risks.
The evening's performance all but silenced any doubts about all this risk-taking. The production is a revelation, breathing new and entirely different meaning into the play. The performances, starting with DiCaprio, are outstanding. Overall, what is going on at the Westwood Playhouse will force many of us to reassess our opinion of both Arthur Miller, and of "After the Fall."
Green's direction diverges fundamentally from the usual reading of the play. The typical production depicts Quentin as a competent, confident, success who is beset by women at least two of whom importune, misunderstand, and mistreat him. Here, however, Green and DiCaprio make him a disturbing mixture of arrogance and indifference. He shows an almost complete lack of empathy for the troubled people around him, countering their attempts to reach out to him with remote and even callous appeals to logic and reason.
DiCaprio's performance is utterly convincing, and completely believable. Quentin is not evil; he is simply a plodding professional who is oblivious to the suffering his coldness causes. But both the production, and the performance, are so at odds with my memory of the play that I admit to going back to the original script to make sure it hadn't been altered. It hasn't. Green and DiCaprio have simply done what only great directors, and great actors, can do: change completely the way we think about a play.
The other performers are excellent. Audrey Briscoe as Louise, Quentin/Miller's first wife, and Sarah Lucas, as Holga, his third, nicely bracket the central focus of the play, Quentin's relationship with Maggie (the Marilyn Monroe character). But one of the great revelations of the evening is the performance of Penelope Hofstadter, a newcomer who invests the part of Maggie with extraordinary sensitivity, depth, and breadth.
Hofstadter somehow makes Maggie's journey from breathless ingénue to insecure celebrity, and then on to suicidal wreck, seem totally believable – indeed almost inevitable. Her interactions with Quentin at every turn are striking and heartbreaking. The climactic scene of the play, in which Quentin and Maggie square off in their final quarrel, is one of the more emotionally devastating experiences in recent theatrical memory. Hofstadter's Maggie is absolutely riveting, as we watch with horror her desperate attempts to get through to Quentin, and – having failed – her ultimate descent into utter despair and hopelessness. It is a truly disturbing scene that will leave theatergoers emotionally drained.
So risk-taking pays off, or at least it has this time. Diane Green had never directed a play; she took on one of the more difficult pieces in modern American theater; she chose Leonardo DiCaprio as the lead, despite the fact that he had never acted professionally on stage; she selected Penelope Hofstadter, a complete unknown, to play the most poignant and theatrically electric role. And the result of all this risk-taking was what has to be one of the most exciting evenings in Los Angeles theater of the past decade.
Leonard was the first to speak – he had, of course, finished reading well before her. "Penny, that's wonderful. This is the beginning. All your dreams. I'm so proud of you."
Penny looked at him and smiled. "There's only one thing missing."
Leonard shook his head. "Don't do this, Penny. I'm here for you now, because this is a huge moment for you. That doesn't mean we're back together."
Now Penny shook her head. "That's not what I meant, sweetheart." Another new one. Lighter than "my love," more serious than "sweetie." "All I meant was to be held by the man I love. That's all I want. I understand if you can't, I do. But if you can, that would mean so much to me."
"Of course!" Leonard said. But it was awkward. On the couch? Standing up? He decided. "I think standing up."
"OK," Penny said. And they stood by the door, uncomfortably, until finally Leonard embraced Penny. She was trembling so hard it startled him.
"Are you all right, Penny?"
"I'm more than all right, my love. I'm flying. I want to stay like this forever. Please, just hold me for a while, Leonard. I know how hard it must be for you. But please, just for a few minutes."
And they stayed like that, by the door, then leaning against the door, in each other's arms, for at least twenty minutes. Her trembling subsided as she gradually melted into his arms. Leonard stroked her hair, rubbed her back. And finally he kissed her on the forehead. When he did that, Penny began to sob, first softly, then harder. He guided her back to the couch and they sat there as she tried to collect herself.
Finally, she was calm. "Thank you," she whispered.
They were silent for another few minutes.
"Leonard?" she asked, timidly. He knew what was coming, and he was ready.
"I can stay with you tonight. But just stay, to keep you company. Nothing more."
"Of course. Thank you. It means so much to me. I want to share my dreams coming true with my best friend. You have no idea."
"Yes, I do. You know I do, Penny."
She nodded. "You're right. You know what I'm thinking before I think it, don't you?"
He smiled. "Let's go lie down in the bedroom. You must be exhausted. The play, all the excitement."
"All right," she agreed. "But I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Not with you here. We have too much to talk about."
They went back to the bedroom, kicked off their shoes, and lay on the bed, fully clothed. She thought a moment. "This is sort of uncomfortable. I have some sweats that will fit you, and some of your tee shirts. Why don't we change?"
He agreed, and a few minutes later they were back on the bed, in sweats and tees, over the covers, side by side, a bit awkward.
Leonard looked up at the ceiling, waiting for the right moment. She settled in and smiled at him. He smiled back. "So, how far along are you?"
Her eyes went wide. "How…how did you know?"
"I don't know. I could just tell. There's something different about you, I can't really place it. I thought I saw it during the performance, but with the lighting and the makeup I wasn't sure. As soon as I saw you here, though, I could tell. I don't know why. Maybe because we were trying, anyway. But you know, you've lost weight. Too much. You have to eat better. Especially now."
She shook her head. "You're amazing. Well, to answer your question, about eight weeks."
She could see him calculating. She whispered, "It's yours, Leonard. Of course it's yours. And given the timing, I think it happened that night in Santa Monica. The doctor says she can't be sure exactly, but I think that must have been it. I guess we were just lucky."
And she saw, as she knew she would, a tear form very quickly. They were both turned sideways now, facing each other. And she reached over to wipe the tear away. "Is it all right if I do that?" she asked.
"Of course," he said. "I'm just happy."
"I'm glad you're happy. But I want to make something clear. I know I should have told you, at least under normal circumstances. Audrey wanted to kill me for not telling you. The reason I didn't tell you was that I didn't want you to get back together with me just because of the baby. That would be wrong. You know it would, even if you won't admit it. Don't you?"
"I'll have to think about it," he said. "Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for a higher good. Sometimes the well-being of a child is more important than your own happiness. After all, that's sort of what it means to be a parent."
"Well, that's an optimistic point of view for a father-to-be! But I get it. Still, I won't let you get back together with me unless I really feel that you want to be with me. If that doesn't happen, we can work things out. You're the father, you have full rights. But we are not staying together for the sake of the baby. No way. If we're together, it will be because you want us to be together. And don't think you can fool me, mister. I can see right through you."
They were up all night, talking quietly about everything. Penny explained about Audrey, and Jordan, and the apartment. She told Leonard about the rehearsals, and the previews, and how exciting it all was. She wanted his advice about the publicist, and the agent, and the timing. She felt happy for the first time in over a month.
And she asked about him. And about all their friends. She had missed them so much. About Bernadette's pregnancy. About Sheldon and Amy. They were now engaged to be married, she had been shocked and happy to hear. But so very sad that she wasn't there for any of it.
At a lull in the conversation, she reached for his cheek, caressing it as she always had. Leonard saw the deep sadness in her eyes. He understood the question in them. And he knew that he had to come to some conclusion, at least for the moment.
Penny saw the doubt in his eyes, and understood how he was struggling. "Whatever you want, my love. Whatever way you want. I will do everything I can not to let you down. Ever again."
Leonard pursed his lips. "I just don't know, Penny. I'm not sure I'm ready to start seeing you again. Tonight was special, and it was easier than I thought. But I can't promise anything. If we do start talking, it will have to be slowly, Penny. As a trial. As if we had just met. I can't do any of this any faster. We'll just have to see."
"I understand." She thought a bit. "Would you like to come to see Dr. Gallo with me?"
"Would that be right? Should your therapist also be a couples therapist for us?"
"I don't know. I'll ask her. Maybe right now it's more important to have a couples therapist. More important for me, too. But I'll find out."
At 3:30 AM Penny's phone pinged, surprising them. She looked. "Damn, it's Audrey. She must be worried. Is it all right if I call her?" Leonard nodded.
"Audrey, I'm fine. Sorry. I'm here with Leonard. We're talking. Yes, it's wonderful."
She whispered to Leonard, "She wants me to put it on speaker. Is that all right?" And he nodded, again.
"Hello, Leonard. I'm so happy that you two are spending some time together. Wasn't our girl fantastic tonight?"
"Yes, Audrey, she was. And so were you. Congratulations. This must be a wonderful moment for you."
"It is. But frankly I'm even happier that you and Penny are together."
Penny broke in, not wanting to pressure Leonard. "Audrey, it doesn't mean we're back together. Leonard just was willing to spend some time with me. He's been so wonderful. And I think maybe we might try to spend more time together, if he's willing."
"I know, honey, I understood that. But Leonard, I want to tell you something. You'd better take the phone away from Penny because she might hang up. That woman's love for you is greater than anything I've ever seen. She should be in a book or something. I think I know everything about you, and every detail of your relationship."
"Not every detail, I hope," Leonard kidded.
"You'd be surprised, buster. But they're all good. She's so lucky to have found a man like you, I know that. And I know you've had your problems, and you have a long road to travel. Still, I want to tell you that she's a very special girl. A very special girl. I hope you know that. They don't make many like her."
"You're right," Leonard said. "At least I've never met any. And I don't think I ever will. And thank you so much for taking such good care of her. But you need to make sure she eats better. Especially now. I think you know why."
There was a silence at the other end. Penny piped up. "He knew. He said he could tell by looking at me."
"Wow," Audrey said. "That's one for the book, too. And you hear him, Penny? He's telling you what I've been telling you: you're eating for two now, so you can't keep starving yourself. Now I can throw Leonard at you, too."
"You do that, Audrey," Leonard said. "It'll be two against one."
"OK. Listen, you two, have a great rest of night. But remember, girl, we have another show tomorrow night. And two on Saturday."
"I remember," Penny said. "Bye," and they signed off.
"She's right," Leonard said. "You need to sleep."
She looked at him again, and again they understood each other immediately.
"Yes, I'll stay. I'm pretty tired myself."
"What about work tomorrow?"
Leonard smiled. "The lab can wait a few hours. Let's get some rest."
Penny climbed under the covers, while Leonard stayed on top of them. Penny hesitated, wanting to ask him to join her under the covers, but knowing it was a bad idea. So she closed her eyes and, eventually, slept – better than she had in over a month.
Penny woke a few minutes before 11, when her alarm was set to go off. Leonard was still asleep, still over the covers. She propped herself up on her elbow and watched him sleep. She felt calmer than she could remember. Somehow she knew that now there was at least a chance that it might work out. She had felt the depth of Leonard's suffering, and believed that it was impossible to overcome. But she had neglected the fact that all of Leonard's emotions were deep, and raw. And that included his love for her, and his belief in the power of love, and his conviction that they were meant to be together. She had always understood that those emotions were fighting within him. But after this last night she believed that the pain and suffering might eventually lose out.
She tried to rise slowly from the bed, without waking him. Always the light sleeper, he stirred and his eyes fluttered open. She smiled at him, wanting desperately to ask whether he felt capable of seeing her again. He looked back at her, and she sensed the turmoil within him. His kindness and generosity had granted her this night, in recognition of the achievement her performance represented, the culmination of ten bitter years of struggle. But now what? Was he going to go back to the previous month's estrangement? Or was he going to give her the chance to prove herself worthy of him? She held her breath, body taut, muscles tight, waiting for him to decide even while he pretended to be half-asleep.
Finally, he said, in barely a whisper, as if he were afraid to speak out loud: "Maybe I can pick you up after the show tonight? We can get a drink or something. Then I can take you back to Audrey's." A wave of relief washed over her, and it was all she could do to keep from crying with joy.
"Of course. I don't drink, though – baby, remember? We can go anywhere you want, whatever you want. But afterwards you can bring me back here. This is my home again."