“Your organized lunatic, as opposed to your disorganized lunatic.”
“Except they’re not lunatics, or at least not all of them. Something goes wrong in their wiring, or maybe it’s a way to come to terms with a horrible childhood, or—”
“Oh, shit, everybody had a bad childhood.”
“Well, I have to say nobody molested me, or locked me in the closet for a week at a time. While some of the cases we get—”
“All right, point taken. Mine wasn’t that bad, either. I used to say I had as miserable a childhood as the next braggart, but it was way short of being that kind of nightmare.”
“I just hope there aren’t any more dead animals. Because the good news is that we’re making real progress here.”
“Well, give the dead cats some credit.”
“What do you mean, John?”
“Ever since the first one turned up, she hasn’t been kicking up a fuss. Haven’t you noticed? Instead of putting up a fight every time somebody wants to throw out the 1972 World Almanac, she stays locked into her own private world and leaves the men alone. It makes a big difference.”
“Maybe she’s resigned herself to it.”
“And maybe she figured she knows where the county landfill is, and she can just drive down there and retrieve her treasures after we’re gone.”
“Oh, God, don’t even say that.”
“Plus who knows what other treasures she might find while she’s there, and—Arnie, what is it? And please don’t tell me dead cats come in threes.”
“No, John, I think it’s worse than that. Arnie, you’re white as a sheet. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Arnie, what is it?”
“Eddie and that other fellow, I can’t think of his name right now—”
“Never mind his name.”
“I don’t know why I can’t think of it. But it don’t matter for now. The two of them, they was in the basement, which is no judgment calls involved, you know, because it’s all water-damaged and all gotta be thrown out, and they were in, I don’t know, the root cellar or the fruit cellar, or maybe it was the coal cellar back in the day.”
“And?”
“You just better come downstairs. You better come see for yourselves.”
One look and I knew who I was looking at. I recognized her right off. Her T-shirt was faded, it used to be yellow and now it’s more of a gray, but you can still make out Minnie Mouse’s picture on it, and that meant it was Little Debby. It was one of her favorite shirts, she plain loved Minnie Mouse.
But I’d have known anyway, because of the size. She was the youngest, and small for her age on top of that, so it for sure wasn’t Tricia or Maxine. Plus her red hair was a dead giveaway. Nobody else had hair that color. I guess she got it from her father, not that he was a redhead but his mother was. And nobody on my side of the family had red hair.
Not that I know just how that works in people. Cat genetics, there’s something I know a little about, but I think it’s more complicated in human beings.
I’ll tell you something, I think I knew it was Little Debby before I even set eyes on her. I just got this powerful feeling on the way down the cellar stairs. I couldn’t guess when was the last time I went anywhere near the cellar, but on the staircase, well, I had this feeling.
So I guess she didn’t run off after all. I guess it couldn’t have been so bad here at home, I guess she liked it well enough to stay.
A mother’s not supposed to play favorites, but she was my favorite, Little Debby. It’s funny, I don’t know how to explain this, but I have to say it: I’m sort of glad she’s here.
I wonder what else will turn up.
HOW FAR
A One Act Stage Play
SCENE: A restaurant in Hoboken, New Jersey. BILLY CUTLER is at a table for two, reading a thick hardcover novel. DOROTHY MORGAN enters, looks around the room, unsure if this is the man she’s supposed to meet. She goes offstage and returns accompanied by a WAITER, who steers her toward Billy’s table. Billy looks up, and closes his book and stands as she approaches.
BILLY
Billy Cutler. And you’re Dorothy Morgan, and you could probably use a drink. What would you like?
DOROTHY
I don’t know. What are you having?
BILLY
Well, night like this, minute I sat down I ordered a martini, straight up and dry as a bone. And I’m about ready for another.
DOROTHY
Martini’s are in, aren’t they?
BILLY
Far as I’m concerned, they were never out.
DOROTHY
I’ll have one.
BILLY
Joe?
(The waiter withdraws)
It’s treacherous out there. The main roads, the Jersey Turnpike and the Garden State, they get these chain collisions where fifty or a hundred cars slam into each other. Used to be a lawyer’s dream before no-fault came in. I hope you didn’t drive.
DOROTHY
No, I took the PATH train. And then a cab.
BILLY
Much better off.
DOROTHY
Well, I’ve been to Hoboken before. In fact we looked at houses here about a year and a half ago.
BILLY
You bought anything then, you’d be way ahead now. Prices are through the roof.
DOROTHY
We decided to stay in Manhattan.
BILLY
And you knew to take the PATH train. Well, I drove, and the fog’s terrible, no question, but I took my time and I didn’t have any trouble. Matter of fact, I couldn’t remember if we said seven or seven-thirty, so I made sure I was here by seven.
DOROTHY
Then I kept you waiting. I wrote down seven-thirty, but—
BILLY
I figured it was probably seven-thirty. I also figured I’d rather do the waiting myself than keep you waiting. Anyway, I had a book to read, and I ordered a drink, and what more does a man need? Ah, here we go.
(The waiter appears with two drinks on a tray. She takes a sip, relaxes visibly.)
DOROTHY
That was just what I needed.
BILLY
Well, there’s nothing like a martini, and they make a good one here. Matter of fact, it’s a pretty decent restaurant altogether. They serve a good steak, a strip sirloin.
DOROTHY
Also coming back in style, along with the martini.
BILLY
So? You want to be right up with the latest trends? Should I order us a couple of steaks?
DOROTHY
Oh, I don’t think so. I really shouldn’t stay that long.
BILLY
Whatever you say.
DOROTHY
I just thought we’d have a drink and—
BILLY
And handle what we have to handle.
DOROTHY
That’s right.
BILLY
Sure. That’ll be fine.
DOROTHY
(She picks up her drink, sips it, looking for a way back into the conversation.)
Even without the fog, I’d have come by train and taxi. I don’t have a car.
BILLY
No car? Didn’t Tommy say you had a weekend place up near him? You can’t go back and forth on the bus.
DOROTHY
It’s his car.
BILLY
His car. Oh, the fella’s.
DOROTHY
Howard Bellamy’s. His car, his weekend place in the country. His loft on Greene Street, as far as that goes.
BILLY
But you’re not still living there.
DOROTHY
No, of course not. And I don’t have any of my stuff at the house in the country. And I gave back my set of car keys. All my keys, the car and both houses. I kept my old apartment on West Tenth Street all this time. I didn’t even sublet it because I figured I might need it in a hurry. And I was right, wasn’t I?
BILLY
>
What’s your beef with him exactly, if you don’t mind me asking?
DOROTHY
My beef. I never had one, as far as I was concerned. We lived together three years, and the first two weren’t too bad. Trust me, it was never Romeo and Juliet, but it was all right. And then the third year was bad, and it was time to bail out.
(She reaches for her drink, surprised to note it’s empty.)
He says I owe him ten thousand dollars.
BILLY
Ten large.
DOROTHY
He says.
BILLY
Do you?
DOROTHY
(shakes her head no)
But he’s got a piece of paper. A note I signed.
BILLY
For ten thousand dollars.
DOROTHY
Right.
BILLY
Like he loaned you the money.
DOROTHY
Right. But he didn’t. Oh, he’s got the paper I signed, and he’s got a canceled check made out to me and deposited to my account. But it wasn’t a loan. He gave me the money and I used it to pay for a cruise the two of us took.
BILLY
Where? The Caribbean?
DOROTHY
The Far East. We flew to Singapore and cruised down to Bali.
BILLY
That sounds pretty exotic.
DOROTHY
I guess it was. This was while things were still good between us, or as good as they ever were.
BILLY
This paper you signed.
DOROTHY
Something with taxes. So he could write it off, don’t ask me how. Look, all the time we lived together I paid my own way. We split expenses right down the middle. The cruise was something else, it was on him. If he wanted me to sign a piece of paper so the government would pick up part of the tab—
BILLY
Why not?
DOROTHY
Exactly. And now he says it’s a debt, and I should pay it, and I got a letter from his lawyer. Can you believe it? A letter from a lawyer?
BILLY
He’s not going to sue you.
DOROTHY
Who knows? That’s what the lawyer letter says he’s going to do.
BILLY
The minute he goes into court and you start testifying about a tax dodge—
DOROTHY
But how can I, if I was a party to it?
BILLY
Still, the idea of him suing you after you were living with him. Usually it’s the other way around, isn’t it? They got a word for it.
DOROTHY
Palimony.
BILLY
That’s it, palimony. You’re not trying for any, are you?
DOROTHY
Are you kidding? I said I paid my own way.
BILLY
That’s right, you did say that.
DOROTHY
I paid my own way before I met him, the son of a bitch, and I paid my own way while I was with him, and I’ll go on paying my own way now that I’m rid of him. The last time I took money from a man was when my Uncle Ralph lent me bus fare to New York when I was eighteen years old. He didn’t call it a loan, and he sure as hell didn’t give me a piece of paper to sign, but I paid him back all the same. I saved up the money and sent him a money order. I didn’t even have a bank account. I got a money order at the post office and sent it to him.
BILLY
That’s when you came here? When you were eighteen?
DOROTHY
Fresh out of high school. And I’ve been on my own ever since, and paying my own way. I would have paid my own way to Singapore, as far as that goes, but that wasn’t the deal. It was supposed to be a present. And he wants me to pay my way and his way, he wants the whole ten thousand plus interest, and—
BILLY
He’s looking to charge you interest?
DOROTHY
Well, the note I signed. Ten thousand dollars plus interest at the rate of eight percent per annum.
BILLY
Interest.
DOROTHY
He’s pissed off that I wanted to end the relationship. That’s what this is all about.
BILLY
I figured.
DOROTHY
And what I figured is if a couple of the right sort of people had a talk with him, maybe he would change his mind.
BILLY
And that’s what brings you here.
(She nods. She’s toying with her empty glass. He points to it, raises his eyebrows. She nods, he raises a hand, catches the offstage waiter’s eye, signals for another round.)
DOROTHY
(pause)
I didn’t know who to call, and then I thought of Tommy, and he said maybe he knew somebody.
BILLY
And here you are.
DOROTHY
And here I am, and—
(He holds up a hand, cutting her off, and the waiter appears, and they’re silent until he has served their drinks and withdrawn.)
BILLY
A couple of the boys could talk to him.
DOROTHY
That would be great. What would it cost me?
BILLY
Five hundred dollars would do it.
DOROTHY
Well, that sounds good to me.
BILLY
The thing is, when you say talk, it’ll have to be more than talk. You want to make an impression, situation like this, the implication is either he goes along with it or something physical is going to happen. Now, if you want to give that impression, you have to get physical at the beginning.
DOROTHY
So he knows you mean it?
BILLY
So he’s scared. Because otherwise what he gets is angry. Not right away, but later. Two tough-looking guys push him against a wall and tell him what he’s gotta do, that scares him, but then they don’t get physical and he goes home, and he starts to think about it, and he gets angry.
DOROTHY
I can see how that might happen.
BILLY
But if he gets knocked around a little the first time, enough so he’s gonna feel it for the next four, five days, he’s too scared to get angry. That’s what you want.
DOROTHY
Okay.
BILLY
(Sips his drink, looks at her over the brim)
There’s things I need to know about the guy.
DOROTHY
Like?
BILLY
Like what kind of shape is he in.
DOROTHY
He could stand to lose twenty pounds, but other than that he’s okay.
BILLY
No heart condition, nothing like that?
DOROTHY
No.
BILLY
He work out?
DOROTHY
He belongs to a gym, and he went four times a week for the first month after he joined, and now if he gets there twice a month it’s a lot.
BILLY
Like everybody. That’s how the gyms stay in business. If all their paid-up members showed up, you couldn’t get in the door.
DOROTHY
You work out.
BILLY
Well, yeah. Weights, mostly, a few times a week. I got in the habit. I won’t tell you where I got in the habit.
DOROTHY
Catch and Release Paperback Page 9
