by Mike Ashley
“I was so happy, you buffoon!”
“I was really surprised that he came to see me off. Sammy had never done anything like that before. It made me realize even more what a friend he is.”
“I know, I’m touched.”
“You’re not—Look, the only reason I came to the airport was to make sure that you got on the plane and left the country and would goddamned leave me alone for two weeks!”
“Oh, Sammy, you’re not fooling anybody.”
“Sammy always does that, tries to belittle his noblest feelings, as if he’s ashamed of them.”
“That’s natural for a lot of men, Sammy, no need to beat yourself over the head about it. Herb used to be that way, too, before we got together.”
“But not any more, cupcake. Sammy, you know, Janet’s changed my life, she really has. You wouldn’t act that way if you could only find yourself a good woman like Janet here and settle down.”
“And how am I supposed to do that? When do I ever get a chance with you guys? You haven’t left me alone with a woman since the day I was born.”
“Sammy, I think you’re mistaken. I don’t think any of us knew you when you were that young.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure.”
“Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt, but is there anyone here named Sammy?”
“That’s him!”
“Is this, er, is this some sort of convention?”
“No, mister, this is my life.”
“Or is it a tour? I mean, I’ve never seen thirty people just standing in a circle like that. Are you a tour guide?”
“Not by choice. Look, who are you?”
“Don’t blame me, I was minding my own business, okay? I’ve got no problems with you people. You can do whatever you want to in the privacy of your own street corner. Hell, you all look like consenting adults. But I was talking to my wife on the phone and this pay phone next to me started ringing. I guess I shouldn’t have picked it up, but I did, and a woman asked for Sammy.”
“A woman?”
“The second pay phone from the left.”
“Did she say who she was?”
“No, but she sounded like she knew you real well.”
“Hello?”
“Okay, okay, so I’m curious. What are you guys doing out here? Is this some sort of cult? It’s cold!”
“Sammy? Sammy, is that you? I was worried that nitwit had hung up on me.”
“We’re with him.”
“Ma? I’m standing on a street corner, ma. How did you know where to find me?”
“What do you mean, with him? Is he your guru? Is he a movie star or something? He must be famous, you all look at him as if he was. Be honest with me, should I get his autograph?”
“I did.”
“What! He wouldn’t give me one! Said he was tired of people selling them.”
“Well.”
“I’ll give you fifty bucks.”
“Fifty bucks! You guys would pay fifty bucks for his autograph?”
“Okay, a hundred.”
“Wow. To look at him, you wouldn’t think he was anything special.”
“Hey! That’s Sammy you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, watch it, mister!”
“Whoa! No offence, no offence. You know, now that you mention it, there’s something about that guy, but I don’t know . . .”
“It’s simple. He’s our friend.”
“I am not your friend!”
“Sammy?”
“Ummm . . . are you guys sure about this?”
“I don’t have any friends.”
“Sammy, are you there?”
“Your friend Sammy doesn’t sound very happy.”
“I’m not—”
“He can be like that sometimes.”
“Do you think he’d be my friend, too?”
“Sammy!”
“I’m here, ma.”
“I’ve been thinking of you, Sammy, and . . .”
“What happened this time, ma? Did you knock the phone off the hook, and when you were hanging it up just accidentally pushed this number with an elbow? Did the cat use the phone as a scratching post?”
“Nothing like that, dear.”
“Or did this number just pop into your head while you were taking a nap?”
“Not this time, son. Fred, you know, the boy who keeps trying to interview me about you for that newsletter of his, well, he just called and gave me this number.”
“Fred? How would Fred get this number?”
“Don’t yell at me, son. I don’t know. He just said he was worried about you. He said you sounded depressed. So he told me he thought it would be a good idea to give you a call to cheer you up and gave me this number.”
“Ma, ma, ma, I can’t live like this much longer. How were you able to do it? How were you able to protect me for so many years?”
“What’s going on? Someone giving out free samples?”
“Shush, we’re trying to hear this.”
“Hey, this is my mother, guys, this is private stuff.”
“What? What? What is it? Gum? Cigarettes? Did I miss all the good stuff?”
“Quiet down, we’re trying to hear Sammy.”
“Who is that there with you, Sammy? Are you having another one of those parties of yours?”
“Not intentionally, ma. I’ve got to give you credit, ma. You pulled it off. You kept me shielded from all of this. It took me years before I realized I had a magnetic personality.”
“You were always a little slow, dear.”
“Ma!”
“It’s true, Sammy. You were like this from the very beginning. I didn’t do that good a job. You just didn’t want to realize it.”
“Tell me about it, ma.”
“No. This is your story, Sammy, not mine.”
“All right, all right, who’s in charge here?”
“What do you mean, officer?”
“Ma, I can’t take much more of this. It’s getting worse all the time. It’s totally out of control.”
“What’s getting worse? What do you think he’s talking about?”
“Whatever it is, we’ve got to figure out a way to help him.”
“Hey, I’m talking to you. I want an explanation and I want it now!”
“Ssssh!”
“Maybe you should see Dr Friedlander again, Sammy. You used to think he could help you.”
“All right, enough of this crap! Who’s got the permit?”
“What permit, officer?”
“Wise guy. You people should know by now. No permit, no protest. You’re blocking traffic with this little demonstration of yours. You’re supposed to have a permit, you’re supposed to have police for crowd control. You’re certainly not doing a good job of it. People keep walking into the street to get around you. Your cause is not going to be helped if someone’s hit by a truck.”
“Sorry, officer.”
“We didn’t mean any trouble, officer.”
“Friedlander’s a quack. He’s just as bad as the rest of them.”
“He can’t help it, Sammy, it’s beyond his control. But maybe he can help you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“Sammy?”
“I’ve heard it a million times.”
“Sammy.”
“Okay, ma. I’ll do it for you.”
“What’s your cause, anyway?”
“Cause? Do we have a cause, George?”
“Bye, Sammy. Love you.”
“Love you, ma. Bye.”
“A cause, a cause! God, I’ve never seen a group so confused! Where are your armbands? Where are your signs? How will people know what you’re protesting against? You’ll never get any press coverage this way. Do I have to write you a blueprint? Geez, not even one lousy sign.”
“What’s going on here?”
“Nothing, Sammy. Go back and keep talking to your mother.”
“Is there something wrong, officer?”
&nbs
p; “Are you the leader of this march? Don’t you know you’ve got to have signs? Wait . . . haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”
“I don’t think so, officer.”
“And you don’t have the permit, either.”
“I was just—”
“You seem like a bright guy. Look, next time, do this right. Get a permit. And for God’s sake paint up some signs. What’s the whole point of the thing without signs? STOP this, BAN that, FREE so and so. Wise up. I’m going to let you off this time without a citation, ’cause . . . I don’t know why I’m going to let you off, but next time . . .”
“Signs.”
“Right.”
“And confidentially . . . get rid of these losers.”
“Hey! What is he whispering to you?”
“Guys!”
“Speak up!”
“Sammy, they can’t hear you in the back.”
“Okay, move in close, guys! There’s a paint store down the block. Let’s go!”
“He’s running again.”
“Wait up!”
“Don’t worry, he won’t get away. I used to be on the track team in college.”
“He’s slowing down.”
“Maybe we wore him out before. Maybe we won’t lose him. Maybe—”
“Hurry up, guys! Come on!”
“What is he doing? Damn it, will you watch it with that soup?”
“But I want Sammy to have it!”
“Here we are, fellas. After you!”
“What is this?”
“The signs! The signs!”
“But, Sammy!”
“Get in there, George, we’ve got to have signs!”
“I don’t under—”
“Keep moving, Ernie.”
“But what about you?”
“I’ll hold the door, folks. You all always tell me about my bad manners—”
“But—”
“—Well, I’m finally shaping up!”
“What’s going on?”
“Ah, always good to see a new face. Step up, step up. Step up, Janet! Step up, Herb! Hello, officer.”
“Good to see you’re taking my advice. I thought I’d give you a few tips.”
“Step right in. Is that everyone?”
“Everyone but you, Sammy.”
“Yes, everyone but me.”
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Sammy, where’d you get the rope?”
“He’s tied the door shut!”
“See you later, guys!”
“Wait. Wait! Let us out!”
“Sammy, get back here.”
“Sammy, wait – I still didn’t give you the British Museum pencil sharpener!”
“Now for the really hard part. How am I going to find a cab at this time of night?”
“Taxi, mister?”
“What?”
“Taxi, mister? Seeing as you had your hand out like that I thought you might have wanted a taxi.”
“I was just scratching my head, but—”
“Okay, hop in!”
“What? Where did you come from? It’s time for the theatre to be letting out. Shouldn’t you be cruising midtown?”
“Funny you should mention it. And you know, normally I would be. But today is my thirtieth wedding anniversary, and I was heading home early with a dozen roses and a box of candy when I saw you standing there looking lost, so I just had to turn the corner.”
“But your off-duty sign is still on!”
“Sheesh! Most people wouldn’t be so picky this time of night. There, it’s off. Hop in!”
“But—”
“Wait a second – is there some kind of sale going on in that paint store? The place looks packed! Maybe I should hop in and grab a couple of gallons of coral pink. That’d make the wife happy.”
“Never mind! You’ve got yourself a fare.”
“You sure changed your mind fast. I think some of those people are shouting something at us. Did you forget your change?”
“No, it’s nothing. Push off. It’s just a crazy custom they have here. We go way back. They just want me to feel welcome. Some stores give out free stirrers and painters’ caps, here all the help gather by the door and shout goodbye. Drive!”
“Gee, if they like you so much, maybe a few more gallons of coral pink wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Do you think you could get me a discount?”
“Just head downtown. I’ll direct you when I remember the correct address.”
“Okay. God, coral pink. Hmmm, was that the sound of glass shattering back there?”
“No. Drive faster. What’s this about coral pink?”
“A few years ago my wife had the whole house done over in coral pink. Every room. That’s love for you – that colour gives me the shivers, but what Phyllis wants, Phyllis gets. I’ve been noticing that it’s about time for a touch-up, and I mentioned it to her, thinking she’d let us go back to some normal colour, like white, or brown, but no, she tells me that she wants coral pink again. And you know, she’s going to end up getting it, too. Women.”
“Women.”
“Son, you don’t say that like you mean it.”
“I don’t know what you—How am I supposed to say it? I was just trying to make conversation, that’s all.”
“You just don’t sound like you mean it. Period. When you say a word like that you’re supposed to have a growl in your voice covering a lump in your throat. You’re supposed to create pictures in my mind. You don’t just toss off words like that. I’m supposed to be reminded of every woman who ever walked through my life. Reminded of all the things we do for love. I’m supposed to remember my first girl. My first woman.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Yeah.”
“Here, let me try it again.”
“If you insist.”
“How’s this? Women.”
“Not much better.”
“Women. Women.”
“If you say so. How much experience have you had, anyway?”
“Hey! That’s getting too personal!”
“Not for a cabbie. We’ve heard it all. Forget bartenders. This is the confessional of the people. And just like the booths in churches, we even have a divider between us with a little door, so you can feel intimate, but not exposed. Talking to me is like talking to yourself. So what’s your problem?”
“I’d rather not discuss it. Just keep driving.”
“Where are we heading?”
“My psychiatrist.”
“Oh. You’d be better off cruising with me and putting the hundred bucks on the meter.”
“Just drive.”
“But what I mean when I asked you where you’re heading was you still haven’t told me how to get where we’re going. You didn’t have to tell me you’re seeing a shrink. You must be feeling a need to spill your guts to me. Understandable. I’m here for you, son.”
“Just keep heading south. I’ll recognize where to turn when I see it. It’s been so long.”
“Oh?”
“I didn’t mean it that way!”
“Okay, okay. So you’re going to a psychiatrist.”
“Yeah.”
“Women?”
“Women? No, not women.”
“You don’t say that as if you mean it, either. Let me tell you something I’ve learned in this life, son. As a cabbie, you see a lot. This little rectangular mirror is a screen on which I’ve seen it all. Love and death, sometimes even at the same time. People argue in the back, saying things they never thought they’d be able to say even in front of their partners, people screw in the back, moaning words I didn’t think could be moaned, it doesn’t matter, I’m invisible. Maybe it’s the glass divider. People open up to me.”
“Not everyone. Not me.”
“People open up to me. The stories I’ve heard. And what I’ve learned is that it all comes down to the same thing.”
“Women.”
“Right. Unless you happen to be a woman, in which case it
could be a man. But not necessarily. Like I told you, I’ve seen a lot. Women.”
“Not this time. I haven’t been able to be alone with a woman for more than five minutes in my life.”
“Oh. Well, son, you’re not the first with that problem. I understand there are things you can do about it, though. Not from personal experience, you see, but I read a lot. Exercises, creams, lotions, surrogate therapy—”
“That isn’t what I mean! I’m not talking euphemisms here! When I say I haven’t been able to be alone with them I mean I haven’t been able to be alone with them. That’s all.”
“If you say so, pal.”
“You should take a left here.”
“You don’t sound too certain about that. Are you sure you know where you’re heading?”
“No! I mean, yes! I mean – it never mattered before! Damn.”
“Calm down, son.”
“It’s funny. You’re making me think things I haven’t thought about in years. I guess a part of me has been trying to forget them. If I forget the past, maybe it won’t bother me so much that I haven’t been able to be alone with a woman.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No! Not uh-huh. This is what I mean. I remember the first time I got to be alone with a girl. I was thirteen years old. Her name was Barbara. We’d gone for a walk in the woods together, and I remember my palm was sweating so much her fingers kept slipping from mine. We found a dark, quiet place where we made a bed of pine needles and started to neck. I could hardly breathe. My entire body trembled as I started unbuttoning her blouse—”
“Don’t move! Keep your head forward and try not to act nervous.”
“What? I’m opening up about something seminal here and you try to give me directions? I thought this was a confessional!”
“It is, son. A confessional on wheels that picks up and delivers. Sorry about interrupting you, son, but I think we’re being followed.”
“There’s a car back there?”
“There’s a whole goddamned bus back there. And I know this city inside out – no buses run on this street. Do you have any enemies with the transit authority? No, wait a second – the bus is packed and I can recognize a few of them. They’re the guys who were by the door at the paint store.”
“Oh, no.”
“Must be over a hundred of them that are squeezed in there, and a lot of them are leaning out the windows. That is not safe. How smart are these guys from the paint store? Some of them are carrying sings. I can just make them out in the rear-view mirror. Let’s see. WE LOVE YOU, SAMMY. GOOD OLD SAMMY. SAMMY 4 EVER. Sammy, that’s your name? This is amazing! They do this for all their valued customers? I think I’d have preferred the free painter’s cap.”
