Two Much!

36

Conversations:

“Kairnair rezeedonce.”

“Hello, Nikki, this is Bart Dodge. Could I speak with Betty, please?”

“One moment, pleeze.”

nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

“Hello, Bart?”

“Betty?”

“Bart, is this important? I was just rushing out to lunch, I’m meeting Dede at Bonwit’s, she’s in town for the day and—”

“It’s important, Betty.”

“Bart? Is something wrong?”

“I have to ask you a couple questions, Betty.”

“Bart, you sound so serious. What is it, darling, what’s the trouble?”

“I’ve just had a long talk with Art. He told me some things. I just don’t know what to make of it.”

“Have you two boys been fighting again? Has he been saying things to try to hurt you, sweetheart? Don’t listen to things people say in anger, darling.”

“He told me some things about you, Betty.”

“About me? I have no idea what your brother could possibly find to say about me, in fact I don’t even want to hear it, but surely you can see that things a person says in the heat of anger don’t—”

“I have to ask you about them, Betty. You can see that, can’t you, I do have to know.”

“Well, I’ll simply deny everything categorically, even before I hear it. What on earth could your brother know about me, we’ve hardly ever even seen one another, if he wasn’t your identical twin I doubt I’d even recognize him on the street. I think it’s very cruel of you to listen to malicious gossip against me. We’ve only been married eight days, and already you’re doubting me, you’re—”

“About the taxes, Betty.”

“You’re — the what?”

“Taxes.”

“Taxes?”

“Art says you married me because you have to be married by the end of the year for tax reasons.”

“This is about taxes? You wanted to talk about taxes?”

“Is it true, Betty?”

“Oh, ha ha ha ha ha. Oh ho, ha ha ha ha ha hau ha.”

“Betty, this is serious. I have to know.”

“Oh, ha ha, I know you do, ha ha, my darling. Oh, you sweet man, I could hug you and kiss you and eat you all up.”

“Is it true? About the taxes, is it true?”

“That I’ll save money if I’m a married lady? Yes, it is, sweetheart, absolutely true.”

(Hurt silence.)

“Bart, dear?”

“I see.”

“But sweetheart, that isn’t why I married you. I married you because I love you, darling. You swept me off my feet, it was a whirlwind romance, I’ve never been happier in my life than I am right now, and the money doesn’t have a thing to do with it.”

“Then why didn’t you ever tell me about it?”

“I was afraid to, dear.”

“Afraid to? Why?”

“I didn’t want you to think — ha ha — you know, that I was marrying you for my money.”

“Are you sure, Betty?”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t you remember this morning?”

“Sure I remem—”

“And last night?”

“Yeah, I re—”

“And yesterday morning?”

“I remember it all, Betty.”

“Then how can you doubt me? Sweetheart, we’ll talk about it at dinner, but right now I really must rush, Dede’s waiting for me at—”

“But what about the lawsuit?”

“What about the what, dear?”

“You and your sister are suing each other for control of the Kerner businesses, and it’s important in the lawsuit that you be married.”

“Did Art say that, too?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Just where does he get all this information?”

“From Liz, I suppose. And I guess it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Darling, husbands and wives all over the country are a financial help to one another: they file joint income tax returns, they put businesses in one another’s name, they do all sorts of money things for one another, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love one another.”

“The question is, why didn’t you tell me about all this? The taxes, and the lawsuit. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do, my darling. I just didn’t want you to worry, that’s all. I didn’t want you to get the suspicions in your mind that you have right now. This is what I’ve been trying to avoid.”

“By lying to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you, sweetheart, I just didn’t tell you every last single bit of the truth. And that’s only because I’m so in love with you.”

“Then why did you go to bed with Art?”

(Stunned silence. But stunned.)

“I’m sorry, Betty, I don’t think I can go on like this.”

“Buh-Bart—”

“It’s too late to deny it. Art told me everything, he told me... details, he told me things he couldn’t have known if it wasn’t true.”

“Um. Bart, dear.”

“The taxes, and then the lawsuit, and then this.”

“Darling. Bart, please listen to me for a minute.”

“You have to meet Dede at Bonwit’s.”

“Bart, I’ve been wrong. Yes, that did happen, what you said, what Art said. But I swear it wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t look so much like you.”

“Oh, Betty, for—”

“It’s true, darling, dearest. But oh, when we got to bed, I regretted it. He isn’t a bit like you, he doesn’t know how to make a woman feel like a woman. Not the way you do.”

“You mean I’m better, huh?”

“Darling, let’s start over again, brand new. We can still make it, I know we can.”

“I’m sorry, Betty.”

“Bart, what are you going to do?”

“I have to be by myself for a while, I have to think things out.”

“Oh, my darling, it kills me to have hurt you this way.”

“I’ll... I’ll call you in a day or two.”

“Yes, Bart. Bart?”

“Yes?”

“Always remember, dearest, I do love you.”

(Pregnant silence.)

“Bart? Darling?”

“I’ll call you in a day or two.”

Buzz.

“Yes?”

“A Mrs. Ralph Minck on the line.”

“Tell her I’ve joined the Trappist monks.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lo?”

“Feeney?”

“Yeah?”

“This is your landlord speaking.”

“Oh, hi, Art, how ya dune?”

“Next Monday is Labor Day, Feeney.”

“Oh yeah. I’ll be outa here by then, don’t worry. I’m packin’ already.”

“You’ll be returning to Cornell, Feeney?”

“Yeah, man.”

“That’s wonderful. Feeney, do you know a bar in Ithaca named O’Hanahee’s?”

“That’s a dive, man, that’s no place to hang out.”

“Good, you know the place. Feeney, two of the regular patrons of O’Hanahee’s are old friends of mine from union-busting days. They’re called Brock Lujenko and Big Horse Tumwatt. You ever meet those fellas, Feeney?”

“They don’t sound like the crowd I hang out with, man.”

“Feeney, I was in the apartment last week. You were out.”

“Oh, yeah? I guess it was kinda messy.”

“It looked as though Laurel and Hardy had just left.”

“Hee hee.”

“The point is, Feeney, you’re going to clean it up.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

“Spotless. Immaculate. Exactly as delivered to you.”

“Certainly, man.”

“Because otherwise, sometime during the fall semester, you will meet my old friends Brock Lujenko and Big Horse Tumwatt.”

“Oh. Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be moving in Tuesday.”

“It’ll be clean, man. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

“I’m not worried. Believe me, Feeney, in the ebb and flow of life you are the least of my worries.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Buzz.

“Hah?”

“Miss Linda Ann Margolies.”

“In person?”

“On the phone.”

“Ah. Tell her... No, never mind, I’ll talk to her.”

“Mm hm.”

Click. “Miss Margolies?”

“How quickly they forget,”

“Eh?”

“If you recall, I believe we were naked on your office floor at the time, I said, ‘Call me Linda,’ and you said—”

“‘Call me irresponsible.’ It all comes back to me. How are you, Linda?”

“My shoulder blades are healing up just fine. And how are you, Irresponsible?”

“Exactly.”

“Who’s on first.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, what I’m calling about—”

“Sorry, miss, I gave at the office.”

“Yes, I remember. And you remember my thesis.”

“Is that what that was? You remember my pickle, don’t you?”

“It’s a dilly.”

“No, Linda. We don’t descend to material like that.”

“The hell we don’t. I want to send you my thesis.”

“I’m not sure it’ll fit on a card.”

“Listen, Eerie, things are—”

“Listen what?”

“Eerie. That’s short for Irresponsible.”

“I’d rather you called me Sibyl.”

“Fine with me. Listen, Sibyl, what I want is—”

“I’m not sure I came out ahead on that one.”

“What I want, Jack, is for you to read my thesis and tell me what you think of it.”

“I think it’s the cuddliest, furriest little thesis I ever—”

“Sibyl.”

“Right. I’d love to read your thesis, I really would, but I can’t promise when. I’ve got a lot, uh, going on right now.”

“That’s okay, I have a month before it’s due.”

“Then send it along.”

“You may not like the title.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Comedy: The Coward’s Response to Aggression.”

“Well, it’s hard to tell without the music.”

“It’s a tango.”

“So send me two copies.”

“Oh, God.”

“He’s a dilly.”

“Yours was worse.”

“No, it wasn’t. What did the cannibal give his sweetheart for Valentine’s Day?”

“A box of farmers’ fannies.”

“Did you hear about the guy who parted his hair from ear to ear?”

“He thought it was wonderful till somebody whispered in his nose.”

“Linda, is there no rotten joke you don’t know?”

“There are three of them, in fact.”

“Whi— Oh, no, you don’t. Good-bye, Linda.”

“Almost gotcha. Almost gotcha.”

“Gloria, I’ve—”

“Hold on a minute, till I finish typing.”

“Letter to your mother?”

“Company business. Tax form for the state.”

“Don’t show it to me!”

“I wasn’t going to show it to you.”

“Just sign my name and send it to them.”

“There’s a check should go with it.”

“So enclose a letter saying, ‘Please find check.’”

“Do I enclose a check?”

“Don’t waste time with silly questions. I have a car waiting. Type, type.”

Clackety clackety clackety clackety — zzzzip

“Okay, now what?”

“First of all, here’s your paycheck.”

“How come? It’s only Wednesday.”

“You’ll notice it’s postdated. So is this bonus check, in honor of Labor Day.”

“A hundred — You don’t think I’d try to cash this, do you?”

“Faith and patience, that’s what you need. Now, this is a check and deposit slip for the Wonderful Folks account, which I’d like you to deposit for me.”

“TEN THOU—”

“Hush! Hush!”

“Ten thousand dollars?”

“Miss Kerner is investing in Those Wonderful Folks.”

“She’s off her tree.”

“Be that as it may, that check is as good as the girl atop the unicorn. Now, we’re gonna close up shop right now, you’ll deposit this check on your way home, by Friday the account will be full and green and beautiful, and you can cash these other two checks.

“Wait a minute. I don’t come back after lunch?”

“No. And we’re not opening tomorrow or Friday either. We’ll take a long Labor Day vacation. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Well, that’s fine with me.”

“Gloria.”

“What’s up? You’re up to something.”

“You don’t want to know about it.”

“Agreed.”

“But you do want to know what to say if anybody asks you where my twin brother Bart is.”

“Are you still playing that game?”

“I’m getting out from under right now. If it should happen that you are asked, if anybody wants to know where Bart Dodge is, it is your understanding that the brothers quarreled, and that Bart Dodge has severed his connection with this office and is unlikely to return.”

“Amen.”

“There’s light at the end of the tunnel, Gloria.”

“Pray it isn’t a flamethrower.”

“What a kidder.”