Killing the Second Dog

4

WHEN WE RETURNED TO THE HOTEL, ROBERT WENT TO SLEEP. I walked out on the balcony. I wasn’t hungry and I didn’t feel like reading; I stood leaning out and looking at the sea. It was dark and quiet. Our hotel was situated a distance from the city, no noises reached us; I could hear the waves come in and die on the hot sand. It’s strange how quickly you get used to hearing the sea and how much you begin to depend on it. It would be unbearable, I thought, to go away and never see the sea again. Motionless, I listened to the purring of the waves and watched the lights blink in the distance. I wasn’t thinking of the woman or our dog or what I soon would have to do; the sea released me from all thought and feeling, the way alcohol releases other people. It took me a long time to discover the sea had that power, but it was something I found out for myself so it meant a lot to me. How many things are there, I wondered, that a man can discover about himself without anyone’s help? Not many; all that shouting Robert talks about drowns out the way we really are and all the gifts we possess, even though we don’t possess so many. So it’s a good thing we have at least the sea to look at and listen to. No wise-ass bastard can change that, or try to; that’s what felt so good about looking at the sea.

“Aren’t you sleepy?” Robert asked.

“No,” I answered. “I’m in a philosophical mood. But you go back to sleep.”

“I’m trying to, but I can’t.”

“Nerves?”

“No,” he said. “I was thinking about theater. And then about something else. Then I started thinking about the dog. It’s costing us a pretty penny.”

“How much did it eat today?”

“Two pounds. And it could easily eat twice as much. The butcher at the kosher delicatessen looked at me like I was crazy when I told him all that meat was for my dog. What did you eat today?”

“Some soup and a steak. I spent only a pound and a half.”

“This goddamn beast is costing more than both of us together. Maybe we should get rid of it.”

“It’s up to you. You’re the director. I’m only going through the motions. I don’t even know my part well.”

“One day you’ll be a real actor.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” I said. “But have it your way.”

“You’d make a good one.”

“My voice is lousy.”

“What do you mean your eyes are lousy? You’ve got great eyes! Who the fuck told you they were lousy?”

“Nobody said anything about my eyes. I said my voice was lousy.”

“Well, work on it. It’s all a matter of training. But you’ll never be able to play in a comedy. That’s your weak point.”

“Do you mean that what I’m doing now isn’t comic?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

“Robert, let’s get rid of the dog.”

“No, the dog’s not a prop. It’s an actor. I’ve just realized it. It’s an actor. You’re playing together. And you need it to play out your anger.”

“I can break somebody’s head,” I said. “Even fight a guy twice my size. But let’s forget about the dog.”

“No. You’ve got to do something really mean. Something you’ll be ashamed of for the rest of your life.”

“The worst part is I have to feel ashamed twice,” I said. “Both before and after the act.”

“You’ve got no choice,” Robert said. “That’s why you’re so tragic. Oedipus plucked his eyes out so he wouldn’t have to see the world. Think in similar terms. Good night.”

At seven in the morning the bouncer came into our room. We were still in bed.

“Listen,” he said, “I need to talk to you.”

“What about?” Robert asked.

“The deal. I think I’ll …”

“Okay,” Robert said, “but not here. There’s a cafe on the next corner. Wait for us there. The broad is staying on the same floor. God forbid she overhears anything. And the coffee they serve here is awful. Go. We’ll join you right away.”

The bouncer left, throwing our dog a timid glance. We dressed quickly and went out into the hall. I was locking the door when I heard a terrible blast: that kid of hers had fired a blank pistol at Robert’s ear.

“Don’t be afraid, sucker, it’s only a toy,” the kid said. “But I sure gave you a scare! You’re chicken, you know.”

It took Robert a moment to regain the power of speech.

“You’re chicken!” the kid yelled, reloading his pistol.

“What’s your name, sonny?” Robert asked him sweetly.

“Johnny,” the kid said. This time he fired at some old crone. She fell against the wall, white as a sheet. “Like Johnny Guitar.

“A doctor,” the crone moaned, gasping for breath. “Get me a doctor, hurry!”

“You’ll be all right,” Robert told her. “Just take a few deep breaths, show more good will to your fellow man, and everything will be tip-top.”

Johnny fired his next shot at a waiter carrying a tray stacked with coffee cups; the loud bang of the shot blended rather nicely with the crash of breaking china.

“You obviously have the wrong approach to children,” Robert added, addressing the crone. Then he wiped his brow and turned to me. “He says his name is Johnny, but every time I look at him it seems to me he’s one of Charles Addams’s characters sprung to life. He’s the weird boy who’s raising a pet pelican in a bottle.”

“He’ll end up in an electric chair,” I said.

“A worse end than that. His cellmates will strangle him and tear his body to pieces. All of America will sigh in relief. But imagine how much the country will suffer before that happens.”

When we entered the cafe, the bouncer was already there, drinking coffee, looking embarrassed.

“Listen,” he said when we sat down at his table, “I made up my mind. I want out.”

“Oh, you do?” Robert asked. “Would you mind telling us why?”

“I’ve had a better offer. My brother and I are going to make chicken coops for the kibbutzim. We know some people who run a carpentry shop, and we can go into business together. We used to build cooling towers with them. Great guys.”

Robert looked like he was going to split apart. “Chicken coops? Are you crazy or something? I’m busting my gut, so is my partner, her kid shoots at me this morning and I think my heart is going to bleed, and you tell me you want to make chicken coops. Why don’t you and your brother hatch eggs instead and convert the chicks to the Eastern Orthodox Church before you slaughter them?”

“I don’t know how reliable this deal of yours is,” the bouncer said.

“Compared to chicken coops it’s a cinch. Don’t be a child. We’ve talked about it, shaken hands on it, so now just leave the rest to us, okay? Trust us. All you have to do is collect your cut when I tell you to. Then you can go ahead and start your chicken farm for all I care.”

“I didn’t sleep a wink the last two nights,” the bouncer complained.

“I believe you. He didn’t either. But that’s your problem.

Buy yourself some sleeping pills and don’t disturb us anymore. We’re not magicians. We need time. But hard work and patience always meet their reward. Didn’t they teach you that in school? Listen, do you know the story of Bruce, the Irish revolutionary?”

“No.”

“Bruce was a resistance fighter in the struggle against the English. One day he was severely wounded, but he managed to hide in a cave. He was almost certain he was going to die when …”

Suddenly our dog growled and we all turned around. The man who had asked us to buy him a beer the day before had no intention of leaving us alone today either. I could see he’d done more heavy drinking last night.

“Buy me a Gold Star and I’ll go,” he said. “I wouldn’t bother you but I’m dying for a drink.”

“Why pick on us?” Robert asked. “Aren’t there any rich Americans left in town?”

“I need a drink,” the man said, looking at me. It was clear he hadn’t forgotten me.

“You won’t bum one from us,” I said. “Stop looking for trouble. Didn’t you get enough yesterday?”

“I’m not talking to you,” he said. I don’t know why he hated me so much; he didn’t even try to hide his feelings. Maybe he sensed I felt pity for him, and he couldn’t stand that. “Why don’t you shut your trap?” he said to me. “Shut up!”

“You won’t get anything from us,” Robert said. “What a nerve!”

“Gimme the money for a beer.”

“No. On your way.”

He staggered. I could tell he wanted to slug Robert. I stepped in between them, needlessly, I guess. He wasn’t strong enough to hurt anyone. When his fist hit my arm, the blow was as weak as a child’s. The man was about forty, tall, and he’d probably been handsome before he started boozing.

“You know what happens now, don’t you?” I asked.

A couple of waiters grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him out of the cafe, even though he spit all over them and tried to bite. I didn’t watch. One of the waiters was a young guy who probably spent all his free evenings at the movie theater on Ben Yehudah Street where a ticket costs only sixty piastres. Now he had his big moment. I heard his blow connect with the drunk’s jaw, then there was quiet.

“Lucky us,” Robert said. “You could say we’re as popular as a shithouse during an outbreak of typhoid fever. Do you know him?” he asked the bouncer.

“Like I told you, we were in the army together. That’s all I know. He doesn’t know me anymore.”

“Okay, it’s all settled. Go home and wait for your cut.”

“You won’t con me, will you?” the bouncer asked. “I don’t even know you guys. You won’t con me, will you?”

“No,” Robert said. “For the love of God, no. Ever since Abraham Lincoln died, there hasn’t been anyone as honest as us.” He turned to me. “Imagine, I wanted to create a theater for the likes of him. A total waste! There are no values left. That’s why no tragedy is possible today. Do you understand what I mean?”

“No,” the bouncer said.

“A hundred years ago Art belonged to the aristocracy and the rich. They knew how to care for it. If an actor like Belmondo had appeared on the stage in Paris or St. Petersburg, the theatrical director would have packed his bags the next day. Today Art belongs to everyone. And that’s why it’s dead. I’m a reactionary. But reactionaries have no power today and Art no longer exists. There are TV sets, cars, and washers you buy on credit, but there’s no Art. And there never will be any. There’s only Henry Miller and Sartre. Sartre made the astounding discovery that men’s underwear sometimes happens not to be very clean, and for that reason alone Sartre will be immortal. He might even be awarded the Nobel Prize. Have you read today’s paper? Do you know if they’ve given that louse the Nobel Prize yet? They should give him one every week. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you? That lousy little shit who read Kierkegaard before he was old enough to understand him. Well? Has he got it yet? Come on, tell me.”

“I don’t know,” the bouncer said. “All I know is the fight between Liston and Clay is scheduled for February. That’s all I know, Robert.”

“You and your goddamn chicken coops. You ought to read Sartre. That would help you understand your chickens. And I wanted to give you great theater! Shit, you don’t deserve a thing! You’ve spoiled the whole day for me. Read Sartre, do anything you like, but don’t bother us when we’re working. Yes, go home and read Sartre. Read him two or three times.”

“When we met in Tel Aviv, you told me you had a foolproof deal, too. And remember what happened?”

“That wasn’t my fault. I told you to go and see G. You went to J.”

“J. knew nothing about the deal,” the bouncer said.

“Of course he didn’t. I told you to see G. All you’ve ever done isn’t worth a shit.”

“Not worth a shit, huh?” The bouncer was indignant. “I was the one who introduced you to the bellhop in the hotel. That wasn’t worth a shit?”

“Nothing you do is worth a shit,” Robert insisted.

“Just make sure everything works out this time,” the bouncer said in a threatening tone. “You’re not gonna roll me.”

They continued wrangling like that for quite a while.

Whenever Robert set up a deal, he was very secretive and never mentioned any names, only the initials J. and G. Everybody knew who J. and G. were, but Robert stuck to his code. That was the way he operated.

“G. still owes me money,” the bouncer said.

“Read Sartre.”

“J. is a thief, too. They threw him in the slammer, but what good is that to me? Am I supposed to follow him there to get my money or what?”

“Read Sartre,” Robert said. “Start on him today. And now leave us alone.”

We paid for our coffee and walked down to the beach. She was already there. We rented two deck chairs and went to join her.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Did you sleep well?” Robert asked.

“I heard Johnny gave you a scare this morning.”

“Nothing of the sort,” Robert said. “He’s a lovely child. And so lively, too. I was just like him as a boy.”

While he talked about Johnny and himself, I watched the kid. He was as busy as a one-man band. First he tied a long string to an old man’s chair, and when the old poop was about to sit down, he pulled it out from under him. “The kid’s got a healthy sense of humor,” Robert said, watching the old man try to get up. Then the kid started making mud balls and slinging them at women who didn’t want to get their hair wet while swimming. One throw was good enough to ruin a ten-dollar hairdo; his aim was true, and his hand never wavered. He engaged in this activity for some time. I calculated that the hairdressers at the Dan Hotel would earn at least a hundred fifty bucks extra, not including tips. Then he got bored with this game. Suddenly he vanished, and when he reappeared, he had a whole fistful of clothespins. Later I found out all the hotel laundry done during the night had landed in the sand. Johnny stuck the clothespins behind the waistband of his swimming trunks and went into the water. I wondered what he needed them for, but a little later I could have kicked myself for being so dumb. Johnny’d been blessed by Nature with an inventive mind, and this time he had come up with a truly magnificent idea: he swam up to people who wore masks and with one swift motion cut off their air supply by attaching the clothespins to their snorkels; his helpless victims began to suffocate and then tear the masks off their faces; two men lost their masks and never found them again. One of the kid’s victims was a lousy swimmer and a lifeguard had to tow him to shore. Everybody started shouting for the police. People were close to a lynching. The man saved by the lifeguard went into hysterics; a crowd gathered around him, and everybody offered the lifeguard advice. The lifeguard lost his head and hit the man in the jaw. The man went crazy and demanded the lifeguard’s name: he meant to press charges.

“You’ll pay for this!” the hysteric yelled.

“I had no choice,” insisted the lifeguard. “I only did what all life-saving manuals tell you to do if someone has a fit.”

“You hit me in the face!”

“You had a fit. I had no choice. That’s what they taught me in my life-saving course.”

“Excuse me, what did they teach you? What is a lifeguard supposed to do?” a stranger wanted to know. He had a distinguished manner of speaking. “What are you supposed to do?”

“Slap him in the face,” the lifeguard said. “Like this.”

He slapped the distinguished-sounding stranger in the face, but he must have miscalculated the force of his blow because the man fell to the ground like a bird shot in flight, and he lay there motionless on the sand as the lifeguard leaned over him, shouting, “That’s what they told us to do in the course. I can show you my manual. These are scientific methods and that man shouldn’t resent what I did.”

Nobody understood the lifeguard because he was yelling in Hebrew. Little Johnny decided to give him a hand. “He’s right. It was his duty,” little Johnny said.

“Duty!” the lifeguard yelled, grasping at this word. “Duty! Duty!”

Finally a cop appeared, took down what had happened, and slowly everyone quieted down.

“Johnny, darling,” his mother said when the crowd dispersed and Robert and I managed to free the kid from the lifeguard’s clutches, “why don’t you read something for a while? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ll give you a book,” Robert said.

“Piss on your book,” said little Johnny with true feeling. “I wanna play with your dog.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Robert said. “I’m sure the two of you will get on famously.” Then he turned to me and added softly. “He’s gonna kill our dog. We’ve gotta start looking for a new one.”

“What did you say?” the kid asked, eying him suspiciously.

“That we have to feed the dog.”

The kid didn’t move. He stood in his characteristic stance: feet spread wide apart, his short cropped head lowered and ready to ram you in the belly. His freckled nose was wrinkled in anger. “I’ll tell my dad to break your jaw. He’s gonna lick you good. Your doctor is gonna make a hell of a lot of money putting you back together.

“Tell us something more about your daddy,” Robert said.

“He’s big,” Johnny said, stretching his arms to show how tall his dad was and how wide his shoulders were; the man must have been built like Sonny Liston. “My daddy is big and strong. He’s not afraid of anybody. He can kick the hell out of anyone he wants. Once three drunken sailors ganged up on him, he nearly killed them.”

“Really?” Robert asked.

“Really. My dad is strong. He doesn’t pick on people, but if someone picks on him, he just …” The kid paused and then added, “It’s a good thing all these insurance agencies are around.”

“He pulverized some sailors in Naples,” I explained to Robert. “In Naples, under a bridge.”

“No, that was another time,” Johnny said. “What I’m telling you about now happened somewhere else. I can’t remember what that goddamn town was called.”

He whistled at our dog, and the two of them scampered away. Robert went for cigarettes. I was smoking the last one. Suddenly she said, “Give me your cigarette, please.”

I gave it to her. She didn’t try to hide her tears. She sobbed helplessly, uncontrollably; people who were strolling by stopped and looked at her with stupid smiles, then walked off reluctantly. Two fat-faced creeps with drooping bellies stopped in front of us and started whispering to one another.

“Move along,” I said.

“What did you say?” one of them said with surprise.

“I said to beat it.” They left and I held my hand out to her. “Come. We’ll swim out. No need to advertise your problems.”

She got up and, holding hands, we went into the sea. Fifty yards from the shore were the remains of an old unfinished pier. We climbed onto the wet planks and sat down.

“How can I help you?” I asked.

“I’m okay now.”

“Is it something to do with the boy’s father?”

“Yes.”

“Johnny’s never met him?”

“No. At least I don’t think he can remember him. But he’ll meet him any day now.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No, it’s not,” she said, “but that’s why we came here. Johnny’s been begging me for so long I finally gave in. Maybe it would have been best to let him just go on imagining his father the way he has up till now.”

“I think I understand. But maybe you worry too much. I had an uncle who was the worst person you can possibly imagine; he drank, he played cards, and one day he gambled away the house we lived in. At the same time he was a wonderful person. I loved him more than I loved my mom. My father died when I was five.”

“Illness?”

“No, he was killed. Did you ever hear the expression ‘a nation of thinkers and poets’?”

“No.”

“That’s the way the Germans liked to describe themselves. Modesty is a wonderful trait. Now they build a million Volkswagens a year and don’t think of the past. Oh, perhaps they feel sorry. The Germans feel sorry after every war.”

“Too bad we haven’t got any cigarettes,” she said.

“Wait for me here. I’ll swim back to shore and bring us some. I’m sure Robert has bought them by now.”

“No, please stay with me. I’m afraid those two fatsos will swim out here to have one more look at me.”

“They couldn’t manage it. They probably have hernias and weak hearts and aren’t allowed to exert themselves. Lifting a cigarette to their lips is too much for them. Is the boy’s father here?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t shown up yet. He was supposed to come yesterday. I wrote to him, but maybe something’s happened.”

“Look, I don’t want to appear nosy. Just tell me what you feel like telling.”

“His father was born here,” she said. “We met eleven years ago when I visited Israel for the first time. He went back to the States with me, but soon he realized he wasn’t able to live away from Israel. He came back here, then he began to miss America. So he returned to the States and started dreaming of Israel. And so it went, on and on. Until one day he left and didn’t show up again.”

“America must be a difficult country to live in,” I said. “Of course, it’s no fun being a stranger anywhere.”

“Yes,” she said. “Maybe it wasn’t his fault.”

I was sure it wasn’t his fault. I, too, felt homesick. I longed to go back to Poland. Nothing makes you so homesick as being short of cash.

“Do you want to swim back?” I asked after a while.

“No,” she said. “It’s nice sitting here. What was this supposed to be? Some kind of bridge?”

“A pier,” I said. “A pier with a bar, music, and other nighttime pleasures. But then the guy who started building it went bankrupt. His partner robbed him blind. His wife left him. One of his kids got bitten by a rabid dog and developed a stammer. The poor guy got drunk, climbed in his car, and hit some woman. She took him to court; her lawyer claimed that after the accident she couldn’t have sex with her husband because it caused her pain. The court awarded her a huge compensation so that her husband could afford to sleep with hookers. And the man lost his driver’s license. He tried to drown himself, but he was rescued and resuscitated, and because he had no medical insurance, he had to pay for the hospital. He next tried to gas himself, then he slashed his wrists, then he swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, but they saved him every time. He was certified insane, so his wife easily got a divorce and married some rich bastard. Finally the poor wretch plunged a knife into his heart and died in terrible pain in a hospital for the destitute.”

“Good god, how do you know all that?”

“I don’t,” I said. “But if you close your eyes, you can improve on anybody’s life. Though if you don’t like this ending, I can make up a different one: he let a monkey jump on his back and can still be seen from time to time in the company of leprous beggars. A true Hollywood ending.”

“What does he do? I didn’t understand you.”

“He got addicted to smoking hashish.”

“I see. Have you ever been to the States?”

“No.”

“You speak with an American accent. You didn’t learn that in school, did you?”

“I didn’t learn anything in school. I misbehaved so badly they used to make me stand in a corner with my face to the wall. That was my punishment. You have to admit that under those circumstances I didn’t stand a chance of learning anything. Even the gym teacher would throw me out the door.”

She smiled.

“That’s what I wanted,” I said.

“What?”

“To see you smile.”

“Oh, I’m feeling much better now. So where did you learn English?”

“I worked in the desert for a land-surveyor. You know, one of those guys who runs around with poles measuring distances and can never get their numbers right. My boss was an American and every day for fourteen hours I listened to him curse. After a while we got used to each other.”

“You worked in the desert …” she began.

“Yes,” I said. “But please don’t say it must have been romantic. It wasn’t romantic at all. Lots of scorpions and things like that. Lots of snakes, too, so we had to wear boots all the time. And in the evening my boss would bore me with stories about his family. His mother-in-law was an angel, his wife was an angel, his father-in-law was another angel. Fortunately they all died. All he had left was me and his memories. His angel of a mother-in-law died of a heart attack, his angel of a wife died in a car crash, and his angel of a father-in-law drank himself to death. They all flew to heaven.”

“I’m worried about Johnny,” she said.

Suddenly she burst into tears again. I stroked her cheek, remembering to do it clumsily and roughly. You know: a rough man, but a heart of gold. She leaned her head on my shoulder and continued sobbing. I could see she was making an effort to be brave but couldn’t help herself.

“Is it something do with Johnny’s father? Something bad?”

“This is going to sound awful, but it would be better for Johnny if his father were dead. Oh, God!”

“God will know what’s best for the boy. Don’t decide for Him.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“If you have any problems, maybe I can explain things to Johnny for you. I’ll come up with some idea for saving the image of his father for him.”

“Will you do that?”

“Of course. I like the boy.”

“You like him?”

“Sure I do. At times I feel like tearing him to pieces, but that’s got nothing to do with it. I like to watch him.”

“He likes you, too. And I know why. You resemble the father he’s imagined for himself.” She looked at me. “Or maybe that’s why he doesn’t like you. Do you understand?”

“No.”

“Hasn’t any woman ever told you you’re a very attractive man?” she asked. The tone of her voice wasn’t pleasant at all.

“No,” I replied. “Never.”

“Well, then, the women you’ve had weren’t worth a damn.”

I didn’t say anything, and, even if I’d wanted, I wouldn’t have been able to since she quickly added, “Please don’t be angry. I’m a straightforward person. If I like someone, I don’t beat around the bush. I take full responsibility for anything I say.”

I touched her arm. “Are you sure you allow others the same rights as yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Then listen, I like you, too. I think you’re very pretty.”

“Oh, oh,” she said.

“Oh, oh,” I repeated, nodding.

“Really?”

“Really. Otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. No one gives a damn about the tears of an ugly woman. If an ugly woman begins to cry, you tell her she’s got beautiful eyes and walk away. Too bad, but that’s the way men are. As you probably know. What’s your name?”

“Mary. I guess it’s Miryam in Hebrew.”

“I prefer Mary,” I said.

“What’s yours?”

“Jacob.”

“And in Hebrew?”

“Yakov. But the problem is I’m Catholic.”

“Is it tough being a Catholic here?” she asked.

“No. If people like you, you can get along anywhere. And people here take pride in being able to offer work and shelter to someone of a different faith. At least, some of them do. There are some who don’t like Catholics, but that’s not surprising. Let’s go back. I’m dying for a cigarette.”

“Okay,” she said.

When we reached our spot on the beach, I looked at my watch; it was six o’clock. Robert had gone to the hotel. He’d left me a pack of cigarettes and a note: “Take it easy, don’t hurry things. And don’t forget about your anger and inner turmoil. Little Johnny let our dog loose in a kosher butcher shop. He ate a lot of meat. Big losses. We have to go to the police station tomorrow. Take your time and remember the German saying, ‘Patience brings roses.’ I’ll wait for you in the hotel. Robert.” We both lit up and then went to change. I took off my swimming trunks and placed them next to my clothes outside the shower stalls. When I finished showering, I toweled myself and was about to reach for my pants when a small, quick hand darted out from behind the wall and grabbed them. I didn’t have to check to know my swimming trunks and shirt had disappeared, too. Clutching a small towel wrapped around my waist, I leaned over the partition and called out to Mary: “Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m totally naked. Johnny swiped my clothes.”

“Your clothes?”

“Yes,” I said. “I have a wet cigarette in my mouth, but that’s all I got.”

“I’ll give him a spanking,” she promised.

“Later. Right now can you lend me your bathing suit, please? I’ve got to get back to the hotel.”

“In a lady’s bathing suit?”

“I’ll say I’ve developed breasts,” I answered cheerfully. “Or that I’m a hermaphrodite. It can be quite funny. I don’t care. I just want to put something on.”

She tossed me her bathing suit and I squeezed into it hastily. I overheard two men talking about me: one said that in California there were lots of men who were attracted solely to members of their own sex, and the other said he had once been to a men’s beauty parlor and it was absolutely disgusting. Looking at me pointedly, they both expressed concern for the future of the American nation, which had so quickly ceased to be a nation of pioneers and had completely degenerated. Then the first one told his friend that if he had read the Bible he wouldn’t be so surprised, since such things were already known in Sodom and Gomorrah. As well as ancient Greece. The other man said he felt insulted to be talked to like some kind of ignoramus; they left quarreling.

“Well, Johnny,” I said to myself, “I think you have a surprise coming. And I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

“Hey, have you changed yet?” Mary called out.

“I’ll be the prettiest girl on the beach,” I yelled, “as cute as Debbie Reynolds.”

“Maybe I’d better go look for Johnny.”

“Don’t bother. It won’t do any good. He didn’t steal my things in order to let you find them. Anyway, he’s probably made them into a sail or something else by now.”

“Johnny’s a monster,” she said when I walked out. “I’ll give him a good spanking today. On his last birthday he set the house on fire and we had to call the fire engines. My mother almost had a heart attack.” She came up to me and kissed me on the cheek. She did it sweetly and naturally, as if she were my sister. “But don’t be angry at him, please.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “It’s all my fault. I don’t know how to bring him up.”

“I’m not angry,” I said. “I never thought I’d look this good in a lady’s swimsuit. The floral design is exquisite. I’m sure Robert will appreciate it, too.”

“You’re very nice, you know? I like you.”

That’s how it all began. She was only a step away; I held out my hand. We exchanged one timid kiss, then another. The two guys who had quarreled over Sodom and Gomorrah had apparently made up, and now, watching, they started to discuss an Ingmar Bergman movie in which two sisters display rather excessive feelings for each other.

“Pipe down, gentlemen,” I said. “Ingmar Bergman is a pipsqueak. That’s what Orson Welles said about him and I trust Welles’s judgment. This lady, by the way, is my illegitimate daughter.”

“Such things were common practice in ancient Greece,” the classicist said, as they moved away.

The other one stopped as if struck by lightning.

“I’m fed up with you and your classical education!” he yelled. “Just because I let you lecture me on the Greeks and the Bible, you think I don’t know who screwed me on our last deal?”

“And you gave me a bad check,” the other cried, close to tears. “If I pressed charges, you’d be in jail. It’s no joke!”

They turned in separate directions and went their own ways.