Drawn Up From Deep Places

In here, darling.

YOUNG JACK

(Bursts in, out of breath)

Mother, it was wonderful, we—

(Sees the basin)

What’s that?

The lid shuts, with a SNAP; the music stops.

MOTHER

My washing. Tell me about your trip.

YOUNG JACK

(Distracted)

Yes, we—

(Peers closer)

—but it’s all . . . red.

MOTHER

Dear, you’re flushed. Really, you mustn’t concern yourself . . .

YOUNG JACK

(Realizing)

Red—it’s blood, isn’t it? It’s full of blood!

MOTHER

(Soothing)

There, there—

(He continues to gasp; she shakes him)

Stop that! Listen to me, will you? Will you listen?

YOUNG JACK

Of course, I . . .

(A beat)

Whose blood is it?

MOTHER

Mine.