Louella back standing in the doorway. Her once long brown soft curled locks of hair now short frizzy and blonde. Makes her look more vulnerable. That you want to grab her up in your arms so she’ll feel protected. Her once ample breasts look thinned down but the shape is just as I remember. They always looked so soft, curvaceous and fucking kissable under a black sweater. The nipples just that perfect size. Two works of priceless art I’d like to smother under my mouth.
‘Hey honey, the sounds, the smoke, you got it like it’s a church in here.’
‘Al so loves his Russian orthodox church music and the incense. That’s the Grand Litany they’re singing.’
‘Honey it’s a little sombre isn’t it. But I’ll tell you one thing. Which nearly gave me a heart attack. Two priests were in there with him. The matron said Al was taking the last rites of the Catholic church.’
‘O is that true. O I’m so glad.’
‘What do you mean you’re glad honey. Al’s indelibly Jewish.’
‘Al is becoming a Catholic. He made a promise to me. He’s in the process of being received into the Church.’
‘You sent the priests.’
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t believe it. No disrespect to you honey or your beliefs.’
‘We go every Sunday to mass and vespers at Farm Street Church.’ ‘Holy yiddish cow. Boy that really takes the cake. Al, the biggest Jew this side of Jerusalem with a couple of specialists in black magic at his bedside.’
‘It’s not black magic.’
‘OK honey. Sorry. I know it’s not. I know you believe your beliefs. But this I can’t believe. The Catholic Church honey. What the hell are you doing, that’s the only pure unadulterated asset Al has got left in life is being Jewish.’
‘That’s not true. Al loves Catholicism. Just last week we attended Faure’s Requiem at mass and there were tears of joy streaming down Al’s cheeks.’
‘What. I mean I’m not knocking Faure’s Requiem honey. I mean what could be more appropriate in reference to Al at this moment. But I mean shit Al’s already dedicating his life to behaving like a Christian what do you need all the hocus pocus for in addition.’
‘I believe in my religion as a Catholic.’
‘OK honey. But why do this to Al. Holy christ here I am trying to save Al’s soul from a fate worse than death. Just like the times he tries to convince me to go back to the synagogue, he behaves sometimes like he was the only Jew in the world. Pretending being a Catholic is going to be like that toupee Al started wearing, which looks as phoney as a three dollar bill flying off his head.’
‘How can you be so unsympathetic.’
‘I swear honey I’m just trying to be honest. OK that’s right, I am, I’m highly unsympathetic. What the fuck would you expect me to be. But I am also faithful and courageous. Hey did I just say what I said. Listen to me. Mr Megalomania. All due to you honey. Because I want to shine in your eyes. But you could have compromised. Both you and Al could become Russian Orthodox. Listen to that music. It’s wonderful.’
‘Please let’s not go on talking like this. I love Al, dearly love him. Don’t you understand that. I know I shouldn’t have asked you to go to the hospital. But I don’t have one single soul I can turn to.’
‘Honey you know I’m always available. Even to send to the hospital again. Don’t worry. I only slightly broke my ankle in there. Frightened out of my wits by the sight of a dead stiff.’
‘His last wife, right in the middle of their divorce is making anonymous obscene phone calls to me and telling me to get out of this flat. And now just before you arrived someone is threatening to kill me.’
‘Honey now calm down, those threats don’t mean nothing. I’ll break anybody’s ass comes even near you. And remember I loved Al too, once. And even though I hate funerals I’m going to his funeral. Hey sorry. Didn’t mean to say that. No kidding. Just talking practical, if the inevitable for all of us, happens. Like I got so many hot irons in the fire these days I’m going crazy. Even right now sitting here talking about Al I should be negotiating with New York. But sorry what I said. You know you wouldn’t believe it but success has isolated me. Christ on some of these lonely afternoons I sometimes dream I’m on the deck of the Titanic sinking in the cold Arctic waves, in my dinner jacket singing Abide With Me, like a Protestant Baptist. Jesus maybe I’m the one should become Catholic.’
‘Al said he thought you took a proprietary interest in being Jewish only when it suits you. And then you behave as if you were the only Jew in the world.’
‘Honey that’s exactly the feeling that every Jew in the world has for plenty of reasons.’
‘Al said anti semitism was invented because of people like you.’ ‘Honey please don’t. You’re sounding just like Al. Anyway anti semitism runs off me like water off a duck’s back. But jesus let’s forget the Jews a second. Have your bath. I’ll scrub your back. Just talking to you is like listening to a beautiful piece of music. And jesus just listen. This passage. This. It’s fucking touchingly beautiful those voices. Christ I’m going to go to Moscow.’
‘If you like I’ll make tea.’
‘Gee swell. I’d adore some. Just what the doctor ordered. Now we’re being sensible.’
‘How would you like it.’
‘Honey I’d love it.’
‘I mean the tea.’
‘Honey I know you mean the tea but I would love nothing more than just, holy shit, us. Just us honey. Just us. Entwined together for all time. To me you really are like listening to the most magically beautiful piece of music.’
‘Please not now. I don’t really want to talk like this.’
‘Honey sure OK. But Al would talk like this, wouldn’t he.’
‘He wrote poems for me.’
‘Poems. You mean poems like in poetry.’
‘Yes.’
‘Holy cow, poems yet.’
‘And he could recite them all from memory.’
‘Jesus I should have known all along what was wrong with Al. He was a poet.’
‘Is.’
‘OK. Is.’
‘And he had them privately printed and published. And they were beautiful.’
‘Maybe I may as well have tea then the way Al has it. Jesus honey. Maybe we really should change the subject. Hey honey I forgot how high up this is. Let me hobble over a second and look out of the window.’
‘O but you really are limping.’
‘It’s nothing. Just a few ligaments torn and ripped apart around the ankle honey, nothing that a few weeks in traction won’t fix.’
‘O poor you.’
‘Don’t worry about me honey. Please. I do fifty five sit ups a day. Hard as nails.’
Schultz standing at the large expanse of window of this familiar room. On top of the soft fitted green carpet, Persian, Afghan and Turkish rugs. The mahogany gleaming tables and crystalware. A slow, nose to tail procession of silver great birds of aircraft passing westwards in the sky floating down to land at the airport. The whitened squares and the great stretch of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. The rooftops of all these townhouses. You’d wonder how so many people could get all this money it takes to be down there in this expensive looking part of town. They can’t all be in show business with a hit on their hands. Christ this really is a great place to live. Like being a soaring bird, you can look down on all the victims. A lonely tiny cemetery I never knew existed tucked in down there hidden behind the backs of houses. Holy shit, I wonder who they all are those lonely dead. Al whose motto always was. Is that bad that I don’t want to hurt people. Then he went after me with a bread knife. To sink it twelve inches down in my guts. Now it’s his turn on his deathbed. Just like it is for so many of those fuckers who ratted and ignored me, wouldn’t answer my telephone calls and are now drowning like rats without leaving a ripple. While for last week’s take I go to the bank with three thousand eight hundred and eighty six pounds and eighteen shillings. Wit
h not a trace of sarcasm left on that bank manager’s face as the money pours in now. On top of that, what more bliss and beauty could you ask for in life except this girl. Jesus her clothes. What clothes. At least one can say that for Al. His money and her good taste makes for a fucking devastating combination. Patent leather black shoes, and these low high heels and the way her beautiful ankle under her blue stocking shows between the cuff of her trouser. Even the way she said she’d make tea sent a glow of appreciation exploding right through my gonads. Plus the soothing relief to hear just a word of sympathy for a change. Jesus I really could take up residence high up in a place like this and no one I didn’t want to see would know where the fuck to find me. Where at the moment christ I have a whole fucking house with nearly fourteen windows including the basement facing right out on to a public street.
‘Sigmund what happened to your eyes.’
Schultz turning around from the window. Louella in the ash white light. In this chamber. Where one of the most delicious meals both gustatory and fuckatory in one’s entire life was had. And now tea. A ceremony which is becoming close to my heart and one of the most fucking enjoyable pastimes of my recent life. Which if I go on living, how can I endure to keep my hands off her.
‘That’s right honey. Black. A couple of accidents that’s all. One in each eye.’
‘And O dear, as well as your ankle.’
‘Yeah. Which is swelling like a football I can feel.’
‘O dear. Things haven’t changed for you, have they.’
‘No honey they haven’t. It’s battle battle all the time. Only now I can afford to pay the doctor’s bills.’
‘Well I’ll put an extra slice of lemon in your tea and cut you an extra large piece of Sachertorte. You weren’t in another fist fight were you.’
‘Truth honey of the matter is, my wife came who I thought was a telegram being delivered and socked me a couple right on my front stoop. And then the same day someone goes berserk backstage in the cast and I got socked again. Right in the same eyes.’
‘O Sigmund.’
‘Yeah. Fucking actors, dancers and singers they’re all like spoiled children. Success has really gone to their heads. The outfits you see them wearing coming out the stage door. The fucking poses they strike dispensing autographs and flaunting themselves going out the alley. Prima donnas right down to the most insignificant girl in the chorus line. But it’s not the fights I mind so much. A rash of compulsive cocksucking has broken out backstage. Some women can’t get enough of it. You know how it is.’
‘I certainly don’t think that I do.’
‘Sorry honey I’m casting no aspersions on anybody. But you must remember this blonde bombshell the lead girl in the chorus line built like a brick shit house who does her solo song and dance tour de force in the second act. Terence Magillacurdy has a ten minute conference with her every night in his dressing room during intermission and when she exits with her eyes rotating like criss crossed planets and her knees wobbling like they have got suddenly triple jointed, she ruins the whole fucking opening of the second act by performing like she’s a rag doll.’
‘Can’t you replace her.’
‘What. Jesus no. Every night she’s got the first ten rows of expensive seats full of guys in raincoats folded over their laps with their hands pumping away.’
‘How revolting.’
‘Sure honey it is. But business wise it ain’t. What’s revolting is that I got her agent calling me to double her salary otherwise she might suddenly be sick. When I also have fifty girls begging who want that showcase part. I swear the low moral behaviour of some of these people who need an honest kick right up the ass.’
‘O dear Sigmund I am sorry.’
‘Hey holy shit honey I’m not complaining. That’s what a management fee is for. I get paid. Plus some of the cast are pure sweetie pies. And I accept all this other stuff with the equanimity of pure bliss. There are just some of the little points of perfection one likes to get straightened out. Like no night should you let go by on that stage without trying an improvement however small or insignificant.’
‘That’s what Al said. You never gave up on anything till it was perfect.’
‘Christ honey, at least there’s one point Al was absolutely perfectly right on.’
‘But how awful. The first ten rows. Imagine men behaving like that. With all you have to contend with backstage as well.’
‘Well it is kind of a shock to the system. But honey meanwhile remember christ, we’re doing all right with none of the usual Chinese torture of the agonizing horror of grieving over the daily gross which has turned into a glorious gusher even bigger than we ever imagined. The show’s paid back. My take doubles next week. So you just have to graciously accept a little bit of the rough with a lot of the smooth.’
‘Last Wednesday I walked past the theatre and saw the sign saying full house for the matinee. I did think of you. I really was thrilled for you.’
‘Hey honey for Christ’s sake why didn’t you come in and see me. I was right there that day. I’m always there at matinee performances or in the box office or in my room backstage. Or conferring with
Magillacurdy in his dressing room when he isn’t conferring with somebody. And jesus christ. I must have known. I swear that day that moment I was thinking of you too.’
‘Yes and I thought of all your struggles and battles to get the show on.’
‘And honey one thing now I am sure of is that I rose like the Phoenix from the ashes. And while I’m making sure those box office fuckers answer the phones, nobody now but nobody is going to fuck it up or fuck around with Sigmund Franz Isadore anymore. That’s gospel according to Schultz. Hey but this my god, is the most fucking gorgeous chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted in my life, honey.’
‘It’s Al’s favourite from Fortnum’s. They even write Al Duke on the top.’
‘Christ honey you just cut him in half then. Sorry honey I’m just trying desperately to be funny. But jesus eating this every day, no wonder Al had a heart attack. But it’s delicious.’
‘Well have another slice.’
‘I’ve had two already.’
‘You’ve had three Sigmund. But who’s counting.’
‘O christ honey you’re smiling. Jesus, that’s so beautiful to see suddenly a smile come on your face. What are we going to do with our lives.’
‘What are our lives going to do with us.’
‘Touche honey. Touche. Jesus, I’d like just to be able to kiss your feet. Even your gorgeous shoes if you take one off and throw it over here.’
‘Be careful I might.’
‘Honey go on, throw one.’
A shoe landing next to Schultz’s foot on the floor. Schultz picking it up and placing a kiss on the shiny patent leather tip and sniffing inside and drawing in a deep breath and exhaling a long sigh.
‘O jesus honey I’m no shoe fetishist yet but shit I swear this is so wonderful to kiss and smell your shoe that I am one now. Here, you want to try my moccasin.’
‘No thanks. Not just now, with tea.’
‘Gee honey I don’t want to bring up old painful memories. But that night, the phone dropping out of my hand when I heard the gross. That memorable night right here in this room when I just squeezed by by a whisker. And I made love to you and my whole life was just beginning for the first time. After all the months of nail biting nightmare, waiting and struggle. And now honey they’re descending in busloads from every nook and cranny. From John O’Groats to Land’s End. There’s nothing now in this world nearly that is impossible for me to give to somebody I love. Hey honey don’t cry. What’s the matter. Jesus, please. Don’t cry. Eat your cake and drink your tea.’
‘I can’t. Al. He’s in there in a lonely hospital bedroom. Dying.’
‘I know honey. I know he is. Jesus I was there and there is nothing you can do. Anyway the place is jammed with Catholic priests hosing cold holy water or something all over him. That alone might jolt Al back to
life. But maybe we should worry more about what’s happening to his good Hebrew soul turning baptized into a Catholic and the pneumonia he could get from the head soaking.’
‘Please don’t.’
‘I’m just trying to cheer you up a little bit honey.’
‘Well you’re not.’
‘What good would it be, you there with tubes like an octopus all over him. With doctors needing to be all over the place as well.’
‘Al always said that if he was ever to go he wanted me there beside him. And I’m not. He has such a fear of loneliness.’
‘We all have honey. But christ the Press and everyone is trying to break down the door just to get in to take down in shorthand his last immortal words before they shake his hand goodbye. The matron even thought I was the Press.’