The Stories of Richard Bausch (79 page)

Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?

Okay. Ask, lover. I think I already said I’m not wearing anything.

Well, but I wanted to know one problem you’re having in your life—something we could commiserate about, maybe.

You know what, John? I really don’t have that many problems right now. I’m not desperate, or unhappy or lonely, particularly. I’m going to school and this is a job. And I usually do most of the talking, and I like to talk, so that’s all right, too.

But it’s not real talk. It’s the same things over and over.

There’s only a few things to say, right?

Doesn’t that get old? That must get awful boring for you.

But there’s usually somebody soooo
interested
on the other end of the line. Do you ever tell a joke, John? Do you tell jokes?

I see your point.

It’s usually so easy. These guys who call are fast. You know what I’m saying? Most of them have already got a start on it.

But nobody’s laughing.

That isn’t what the desired result is, though, right?

The whole thing sounds a little pathetic to me. Do they ever ask you to say you love them?

Sure, some do. Now and then one does. That’s a pretty harmless thing to ask.

And you don’t mind doing that.

I’m talking on a telephone, lover.

Any of them ever scare you?

It’s usually pretty friendly, and like I say, I do most of the talking. There’s one guy who calls to say what he’d like to do to me—an obscene phone caller. Before we were around, he probably upset a lot of nice little housewives.

What do you see in the future for yourself? You think you’ll ever be a nice little housewife, as you put it?

Are you writing a book?

I wondered if you plan on getting married someday, that’s all.

Sure, why not? And what’s wrong with using the word
housewife?

I think you ought to ask my wife that one. Oh, boy, do I. I would love to see what she’d say to that one, I really would.

She’s not a housewifey type?

Let us say she is not a housewifey type, yes. Let us just say that. Let us use that as the starting point of any conversations that arise about my, um, er, um, wife. She is not a housewifey type lady.

Okay.

So you plan on being a housewifey type someday.

Why not? Sure.

Kids?

I hope so—someday.

I’ve got two kids. I don’t get to see them very often these days. What’s your major?

I haven’t decided.

Do you like a drink now and then?

Sure.

I’m bothering you, right? Don’t deny it because I can hear it in your voice.

Is my voice starting to irritate you?

You know what irritated Kate about me?

Your
voice?

Now you’re
making fun. You’ve got me on the speakerphone, right?

I don’t have a speakerphone, John. What irritated Kate about you?

Well, she called it the convoluted nature of my mind. My—my thoughts. She said I twisted things around in my head until they started to hurt me and then I’d blame her for it. She said I was the most morbid, convoluted son of a bitch she ever saw, and she wasn’t even yelling when she said it. Do I seem convoluted to you?

I wouldn’t say that, lover.

I like it better when you say my name.

Okay—John.

Are you younger than thirty-two?

Yes.

And Marilyn is your real name.

Well, actually—

Please tell me what your real name is, Marilyn. Your first name. I told you mine.

How do I know you told me your real name?

It’s on my credit card.

Honey, they just punch the name through and open the line for me.

Well, John is my real name. Now please tell me yours.

…

What harm can it do?

It’s Sharon.

Hi, Sharon.

Hi.

Do you like sports, Sharon?

I play tennis.

I never played tennis. I’m a swimmer.

I swim, too.

Did you compete?

I was second team in high school.

I won a few medals in college, Sharon.

No kidding.

I started out pretty fast. That’s where I met Kate. We dated for almost five years.

Couldn’t make up your minds.

Well, we lived together.

Oh.

You know what happened to me the other day, Sharon? I was in New York, chasing my wife and the kids—did I tell you she took them and ran off? I chased them all the way up to Boston and then came back. She’s got all the help and the ammunition. The law on her side, and lawyers and I’m a convoluted son of a bitch. And my own sister thinks I’m a wash, to use her ridiculous phrase. Anyway, the other day I was on this street corner in New York, down near the Village, and these two prostitutes were there waiting for the light to change. And I stood next to them, waiting. There wasn’t much traffic to speak of. But they stood there. I wanted to say to them—I wanted to ask them why they chose to obey
that
particular law, you know? Why they were in compliance with the traffic law there and not in compliance with the
several other laws they were breaking. Does this make sense to you? I mean I got arrested for beating down a door and it was like I was a criminal or something—or dangerous. Kate took out this peace bond on me, and it’s like I’m on parole.

You think too much.

That’s what Kate used to say, too.

Well, maybe you should listen to her.

I did. I did a lot—all the time. But then there was the fact that her voice started getting on my nerves. My convoluted mind started getting on hers.

I don’t know what to tell you, lover.

Did you ever have a relationship fall apart?

…

Maybe not a marriage.

Actually, John, I’ve been in and out of relationships. I just haven’t found the right one. I think the one I have now might be the right one, only—

Only what?

Nothing.

No, you were going to tell me something. That was sweet—come on, Sharon.

Well, he never actually says the words, you know—that—that he loves me. I don’t believe I’m telling you this.

And it’s important to you that he say it.

Okay—yeah. Right. It is. Wouldn’t you wonder about it if you were seeing someone and you said
I love you
to them all the time and they never said it back?

I love you, Sharon.

…

Like that?

Well, it would be him saying it. He’s very nice and I like being with him. But sometimes he—he seems to be avoiding it as a subject.

I love you, Sharon.

…

I love you. I really do—I feel the warmest sense of affection toward you now. Right now it’s the truest thing in my whole mistake of a life.

Okay.

No, I mean it.

I said
okay,
lover. I don’t think you should keep going on about it.

That’s what Kate used to say.

…

Is he good to you?

As a matter of fact, he is. In every other way, he is.

Did you ever have a boyfriend who knocked you around?

No, and I wouldn’t either.

Kate’s father was like that. A military guy—with a mean streak. He was always coming up with things to be critical about. Kate grew up with him yelling at her and hitting her. Did you ever have anything like that, growing up?

No, thank God.

Well, it does something to a person. Kate is just as likely to react violently to something as she is anything else. I’ve never laid a hand on her, of course. I kicked a door in to see my children. Just to lay eyes on them one time, you know. But when she gets mad she tends to think of finding ways to cause you physical pain. She’ll hit at you or throw something. It’s scary as hell sometimes. She’s always been the strong one, and she knows it. Not physically, of course. But inside—the one with the iron. The one with the highly developed
critical sense.
And I do love her, you know. It’s not like you can turn that kind of thing on and off, like a faucet sort of thing.

Different people can do different things, lover.

Yeah, sure—do you come from good parents?

Uh-huh.

I don’t mean it as anything but curiosity about someone I’m very fond of, Sharon.

Oh, and I’m growing fond of you, too, baby. Oooh, I’d like to have you touch me—

Not yet, wait. Just a little more general talk. I really feel something for you now.

Me, too. I’m getting all
hot—

Are your parents still living?

…

Come on, just a little more.

Okay. My parents are still living.

You get along with them?

sI never saw much of my father growing up. He and my mother got a divorce when I was small—I was only about five. My mother is fine. She lives in perfect blindness in Chicago.

By that do you mean she doesn’t know what you’re doing to put yourself through school?

Among other things.

Such as?

She’s a devout Catholic. I’m not.

Were you ever?

When I was young I guess, sure.

Divorce is hard on a child. I’m worried about my own children. What they think of their father chasing after them like that, banging down doors. They’ve got to know that means I feel my love for them passionately.

I guess.

I’ll tell you, Sharon—I’m about at the end of my self. I mean I’ve reached down and I’ve reached down and called up all the reserves and there’s nothing left. My family’s gone. I think she’s got my own children afraid of me. Imagine that.

You just have to be patient and stick it out, John.

Well, that’s a bromide, Sharon. That’s not worthy of you.

…

Hello?

I haven’t hung up.
Yet.

Yeah, well anyway, I guess I’ve proved to myself that I’m not totally off the deep end—I can have a normal conversation.

Somewhat normal.

What’s funny, lover?

Funny?

You laughed just then, didn’t you?

I love you, Sharon. Does it make you feel good to hear it?

Not really, no. It has to be
him
saying it.

Can’t you use your imagination a little?

You’re the one who’s supposed to be doing that.

What’s to imagine? You’ll provide the material, right?

Okay, if you say so.

I’m sorry, don’t be upset with me, Sharon. I’m harmless, really. And I do feel this tremendous affection for you.

Why don’t you say that to Kate?

…

Hello?

That was kind of you, to think of that, Sharon, really.

Thanks.

I really do feel this huge affection for you now. It’s strange.

Well, I like you, too.

You know what, Sharon? I wish I could see you. In fact, I’d like to have you sitting on my lap naked.

Oh, well—

I would. I’d like to nibble the lobes of your ears and get into a bathtub with you and wash you all over. I’d like to put my tongue in your—

Okay, wait—hold it. Hold on, John.
This
is where you want to start in on the sex?

Why can’t you just let it happen naturally?

You’re kidding me, right?

I’m serious as hell, Sharon.

Look, you know what? I don’t feel right about this now. And if you
are
a reporter, report that one. I don’t like you saying that stuff to me now.

But—hell, Sharon, what do I really know about you? I don’t know you
that
well. Come
on.
I just asked a few general questions. It was just conversation.

Well, it’s got me spooked, and I’d just as soon leave it there.

Okay, then let’s go on talking about my miserable personal life awhile, until you feel like going ahead. You start, when you’re ready. Talking the line—when it seems right for you.

I started a
couple
of times, John—and you stopped me.

The next time, I promise I won’t stop you.

But—see, I don’t think it’s going to seem right for me now. I mean I don’t feel it now, and I wouldn’t be very convincing. I’m not feeling all that good now, to tell you the truth. I think I feel a migraine coming on.

Let me get this straight—you have a
headache?

I don’t have a headache. Migraines don’t always have to be headaches. I
get them like light shows in my eyes, and the only thing for it is to lie down until the light show stops. But that isn’t the point, really. The point is I don’t feel right about this now.

You actually require yourself to feel something on these calls?

You know what I mean, lover.

What’re you, an actress?

Okay. Sure.

You’re an actress.

That’s what I said, yes.

…

Hello?

I love you, Sharon.

No, I can’t. Sorry. Call the number back—you’ll get somebody else.

But I want
you.

Well, you can’t have me, okay? I’m not available.

…

I mean it’s just too weird.

So what you’re telling me now is that you’ve more or less decided not to do your job. Is that right? Do you believe it’s right—just like that to decide you’re not gonna do your job?

I’m not really interested in worrying about what’s
right,
now, John.

But we did have an agreement.

Hey, thanks for calling.

Please don’t hang up, Sharon. That’s no way to end this.

I really have to go, now.

Okay, you do the talking, how about that? I won’t say anything. Just do the spiel.

I can’t, now. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.

Please?

I’ve been thinking about you all night and I’m here on my warm silk-sheeted bed and lying back in the pretty red light and thinking about you and wishing you were here with me right now kissing me where I like it, John, and—

Can’t you put a little feeling into it?

This is the shit, John. This is what you get for the money.

It’s not very convincing. It’s not as good as you sounded before.

It’s the best I can do right now under the circumstances.

Damn.

Do you want me to go on?

I don’t think it would do any good.

…

So what do we do now, there, Sharon?