I Loved You Wednesday (29 page)

I put the television on again in time, treat of treats, for
The Newlywed Game.
Just your average, run-of-the-mill Pan-Kansas good-looking American couples destroying one another before six million viewers, proving daily the un-workability of the institution of marriage. I sit down at the table, rebutter my toast and wait a while before calling again.

And again.

And again.

And on and on late into the afternoon and early evening until I have to leave for the theater ... in what is now a very cold rain. Scenic Dayton sure knows how to show a fellow a good time.

I try calling again before the show. And after.

No answer. I leave word on her service. They say she hasn’t checked with them yet.

I call from the Broken Drum.

Same thing.

I get home around two and try once more before going to sleep.

Nothing.

The next morning, again.

Still no answer.

And in the afternoon. And evening.

And the following day as well. And she still hasn’t checked in with her service.

It isn’t until the morning after that, at six in the evening, that I finally reach her.

“Hello?”

“At last!”

“What?”

“I finally got you!”

“That you, Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“Hi.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“I was going to call you.”

“I was worried.”

“Sorry. Been meaning to call.”

“Doesn’t matter. I finally got you.”

“Right.”

“I’ve been thinking about things for days.” “Me too.”

“About us and what’s going on.” “Me too.”

“And I’ve all sorts of things to tell you.” “Same here.”

“I think things are going to work out.” “Me too.”

“Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I agree. All we need, Steve, is a little time to adjust.” “Exactly.”

“Then you agree with me?” “Absolutely.”

“What a relief. I was sure I’d have a terrible time convincing you we should go back to being friends again.” What’d she say? “Steve, can you hear me?” “What?”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes. 1 can. What did you say?”

“I said I think it’s important we recognize the mistake we made and go back to being friends. Like before. Preconfusion.”

“NO!” I yell over the wires. “Steve “

“NO, CHRIS, NO! NO! NO!”

“Now come on, Steve. Don’t make it any more difficult than it already is.”

“It’s not difficult, Chris. It’s all my fault. I know that now.

That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you. To tell you how sorry I was aout the business with the lease. You were right. I was balking. But no more. No more. Honest. Call your landlord and tell him you’re moving out. Tell him you’re moving in with me. Tell him that.”

“No, Steve. It’s too late.” “IT’S NOT!”

“It is!” “NO!”

“Please listen to me, Steve. If you’re upset, it’s probably because of the newness of the whole idea. It shook me initially too. But once you sit down and think about it, I’m sure you’ll agree it’s best.” “JT
IS NOT!”

“Steve, if I thought you were going to be this stubborn, I never would’ve answered the phone.”

“But why, Chris? Tell me why?”

“Don’t you know? Once you left, I stepped back and saw what was going on, what I was doing, everything possible to prove it could never work. And then with the lease you finally showed me I was right.”

“But I changed my mind about the lease!”

“Let’s stop fooling ourselves. If it wasn’t the lease, it would’ve been something else. Don’t you see, it’s just no good. It could only get worse. Me with my crazies, you growing distant. And sooner or later you’d
have
to sour on me and I couldn’t possibly cope with that. Anything but a rejection from you on that level.”

“But I wasn’t retreating!”

“You just admitted you were!”

“For a moment. Only for a moment. I told you that. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain.”

“No, Steve. We have to level off for a while. It’s the only way.”

“No, Chris. I will not allow this. I won’t. I’ll fly home tonight if it’ll help. I don’t care about anything else. Just you. If we’re having a crisis, that’s no time to quit. We’ll work it out. I’ll try harder, Chris. Please. Please ... for me.”

“It’s too late. It’s all behind us now. Besides . . . I’ve met someone else.”

I didn’t hear her. I know I didn’t hear her.

“Steve?”

Hang up. Hang up the phone, fool. Put the receiver down and walk away. Listen to me.

“Steve? Are you there?”

“. . . Yes.”

“Then listen to me. Don’t be upset.”

Upset? What’s there to be upset about?

“Steve? Listen. You know how I can talk myself into most anything, right? Well, once you started wavering, I decided to get out before the bomb went off. Otherwise, the next step would probably be me groveling at your feet.”

“Never! I wouldn’t let you!”

“We’d have no way of stopping it. It’s my pattern. I couldn’t take the chance. So I’ve transferred affections.”

“Trouble with you, Chris, is you just won’t believe someone could love you as much as I. That’s it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be saying these things.”

“Not true, Steve. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m not suggesting this new guy is any great shakes. I’ll never have with him what we had.”

Hang up, dummy. Hang up and walk away. Why are you doing this to yourself?

“He’s no big deal, Steve. Honest. Just someone to kill the pain until I get over you.”

“But why? Who is he?”

“Andrew Southern. The director. We met a few months ago. He shot my Clairol job. Doing the next one with me in St. Lucia, too. When I went to see him the other day, I found him attractive and most interested. So we’ve been seeing each other, and it’s been very nice. He’s taking care of me, which is what I need. He helps get my mind off you.”

“NO, Chris, NO! You’re rationalizing and concocting and blowing things up. Ball with this guy if you want, but don’t destroy what we have.”

“We have nothing left.”

“We do too!”

“You stopped loving me, Steve. You walked out!”

“Wrong! Your father walked out. He’s the one who abandoned you, remember? I just took a job for two weeks in another city. Will you for once in your life stop wrecking things? Please, Chris. Don’t fuck this one up. It’s too important.”

“You should’ve thought of that earlier. My romantic feelings for you are changing. I’ll see to that. My hope is we can still be friends.”

“FRIENDS!”

“Sure. Don’t you see what a blessing this probably is? Actually, it’s the best thing could’ve happened. Now with Andy in the picture you and I can put Humpty-Dumpty together again. No complications, okay?”

“NO! I DON’T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND!”

“Come on, Steve. Don’t get ugly. I’ll bring the dog over to my place. He’ll be fine. It’ll be better this way. Trust me. And just wait until you meet Andy!”

“ARE YOU CRAZY? I DON’T WANT TO MEET HIM! TELL HIM I’LL KILL HIM IF I MEET HIM! YOU’RE MINE, CHRIS, AND I’M NOT LETTING YOU GO, UNDERSTAND? I WORKED TOO HARD AND LONG FOR THIS. I’LL BE HOME IN A FEW DAYS. PLEASE ... BE THERE . . . WE’LL WORK IT OUT. I PROMISE!”

“If it were only possible, Steve. But it’s not going to work. We have to stop. You know better than anyone, when the play’s no good, the smartest thing to do is fold out of town. It’s just dumb bringing in a flop. If we’re smart, if we get out now, before it gets worse, maybe we can salvage something.”

Hang up. Hang up, fool. You’re shaking all over; your head’s pounding; your stomach’s turning inside out. Fool! Enough is enough! HANG UP THE GODDAMN PHONE!

“And, Steve, don’t you think you ought—”

Click.

Chapter Fourteen
 

Well!

After that particular telephone conversation, the rest of my time in Dayton, while not performing at the Playhouse, is, as you might well imagine, just one big, long party.

Ever been alone, in a strange dull city, no one around you would even care to talk with, sad, down, discouraged and depressed?

That must be how Dostoevsky spent his youth.

And aren’t there poets who say this kind of misery, this angst, builds character? If so, I’d prefer to remain shallow.

And remember what I said earlier about love being just like all the clichés in all the songs in all the movies? ... Well, forget it. I rescind the remark.

Screw MGM!

If this is what love does to people, may those goddamned Cupid arrows never pierce me again.

Flying home to New York days later to Face the Music, it suddenly dawns on me, in this belated blaze of perception, that Chris wasn’t really all that serious about splitting up.

Of course! Why didn’t I understand sooner! Sometimes her gimmicks are harder to unravel than others. It’s probably all a childish hoax. Another test. She just wants to see if I can take it. Clever fox! All of it simply another of her harmless, though well-intentioned, pranks designed to make me appreciate her even more. I guess I’ll just have to show her how very much she was missed. Poor, insecure thing.

I’ll arrive and greet her, warm as ever, telling her right off the bat how much I really love her, how very much Ineed her, standing there, holding each other, thrilled to be together again, laughing like always, anxiously undressing, staying up the whole night making love, eating in bed and drinking and smoking and music, another nibble, another joint, another roll, another album, another encounter, a shower together, a new composer, some dessert, maybe even still another session, God, I’ll try, all day and all night if that’s what she wants, with all our candles burning low until morning peeks through the shades, waxing cold and blue and with the sunrise we’ll bundle up and climb the creaking stairs to my badly tarred roof with coffee and croissants for a shivering breakfast overlooking a slowly awakening West Side, before heading back down to the apartment, falling asleep for a while, wrapped together, warm, content, sated until we wake hours later, making love all over again, drawing the blinds, shutting out the day, more candles all around the room, the stereo underscoring our escapade for days and days, never getting up, never going out, going on like this forever; another round, another snack, another day, another week, another, another, another another another. . . .

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WE ARE APPROACHING KENNEDY INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. WILL YOU PLEASE MAKE SURE YOUR SEAT BELTS ARE SECURELY FASTENED AND YOUR SEAT IS IN AN UPRIGHT POSITION? EXTINGUISH ALL CIGARETTES. THANK YOU.

But I guess I’m not surprised when I walk into the dark and empty apartment. Not really.

Throwing my suitcase on the bed, I call Chris. When she answers the phone, something slams me in the stomach, sending a mountain of anxiety, hostility and complete adoration through my system. As collected as I can, I quickly disguise my true feelings, and casually tell her I’ve just returned home and ask if it would be all right to come over and pick up Harry.

Fairly collected herself, Chris says it would be fine. Please come by.

“Hello, Steve,” says a stunning Chris, opening the door wide, allowing me in. God, why couldn’t this be one of her off days? As I walk past her, I know not what to say. I do know, though, the scene calls for no sense of reality.

“Guy in the neighborhood told me you got a dog for sale, lady.”

“Right.” Chris plays along. “This seventy-pound puppy.” Chris points to fat Harry as the bulldog meanders his way over to greet me.

“Hi, Harry,” I say, bending down to embrace the beast, encouraged to find someone happy to see me. As Harry and I slobber over each other, Chris goes into the kitchen, returning moments later with his plastic eating dish.

“His dish,” she says softly, placing it on the floor next to me. ‘I’ll get the leash.”

“Thank you,” I answer, never taking my eyes from the dog.

Again Chris leaves the room, this time to the bedroom, before returning with the leash.

“Here,” she says, dropping it next to the dish.

I pick up the dish and the leash and look at Chris for a few seconds.

She stares back.

All this very uncomfortable for both of us. But I still don’t know what to say. I can’t even think of any light chatter. So I remain in character. “How much for the pup, miss?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. Truth is you can have him for the asking. Just give him a good home, willya?”

“Sure thing, ma’am,” I snap back. “You can count on that.”

“Good,” says Chris, just the slightest bit edgy. Just a touch nervous.

I look over at her again, but now she has trouble meeting my gaze. So I look down, embarrassed. I don’t know why I should feel embarrassed, but there it is.