The Stories of Richard Bausch

by Richard Bausch

  …

  Nobody’s ever asked to talk to you—just as yourself first?

  Nobody yet.

  I’m the first.

  What did you mean about the types I usually get?

  Well, what type of person makes this kind of call?

  Wouldn’t you be in a better position to answer that, John?

  I’ve never made this type of call before.

  Why do I get the feeling you make this kind of call every day?

  No, really. This is a first for me.

  Well, I’m not interested in being your friend or listening to your troubles, you know, John? Usually I do most of the talking on these calls. And I wouldn’t want to listen to people tell their troubles all day for any amount of money. That does not strike me as my idea of having a good time. That does not sound like a good time at all to me.

  I didn’t mean to complain, actually. Just to be honest, so you could know a little about me and feel that it’s all right to say a few small things about yourself and then we would know each other, and when we got down to the sex it would be so much more like the real thing.

  The real—what?

  Don’t be mad, Marilyn. Don’t you get a lot of guys who are curious about it?

  Not all that many, no. It’s pretty straightforward usually. Some heavy breathing and I say a few things and it’s over.

  Do you get perverts?

  …

  I guess that wasn’t a fair question.

  Look, are you one of those reporter types looking for a story?

  No, I’m a separated father of two living alone in an apartment with most of the furniture gone and a lot of disarray I don’t need. My wife and kids are hundreds of miles north, with the lion’s share of the furniture, and last night I went out and got stinking and came back here and I’ve been lying here thinking about calling my sister, who is a perfect shit and a prig, and I decided instead to call you.

  To unload your troubles.

  No, and I’m sorry I said anything about it. If that bothers you I won’t say another thing about it. I’m just trying to have a real conversation before we get going on things. I need that, or I can’t get any pleasure out of it at all, and as we established at the beginning I am paying for this.

  …

  I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, there, Marilyn.

  Why is your sister such a prig, honey?

  She’s the type who says I told you so. Do you know the type?

  I’ve known a few of those, yeah.

  Brothers or sisters?

  Sure.

  You’re being automatic now, I can hear it in your voice. You’re not paying attention.

  Yeah.

  Yeah, you’re not paying attention? Or yeah, you’re being automatic.

  Your voice is nice, baby, and I like the sound of it.

  You do.

  Why don’t you think about how it might be to cozy up together here. I’d love to see you.

  I murdered my grandmother and put her in the freezer, this morning.

  Serves her right.

  What?

  I said it serves her right.

  You are listening.

  Trying to.

  So what’re you studying in college, Marilyn? What’s your major?

  Oh, do you want to do this or not, honey?

  I just want to know what your major is.

  I told you, we’re not supposed to get that personal.

  You’re so far away. How is telling me what your majoring in personal?

  You know what, man? This is weird. This is positively weird.

  It’s unconventional. You’re already doing something rather radically unconventional, so why not be unconventional with the conventions of this, which is so unconventional. Why not tell me something that’s bothering you? I told you about my impending divorce, and my toot, and my shit of a sister, who won’t take me in and whose husband threw me downstairs last night so that I almost broke my neck and who told me for years that I was messing up in a big way and when the mess finally caught up with me and I had to go see her she said I told you so all over again just in case I’d missed it the first two hundred seventy-seven thousand times she’d said it.

  Did you say her husband threw you downstairs?

  Harv’s his name. A prince of a guy. A cupcake, old Harv.

  I’d stay away from Harv, lover.

  That’s what my sister said. And after I went down the stairs, I got the message—I’m to stay away from old Harv. And you know what Harv does for a living? Harv’s a veterinarian. He spends all day taking care of dogs and cats. Got a heart of gold, old Harv. Cries-at-sad-movies kind of thing. A sweetheart. Kindness personified, that guy.

  Do you like pussycats, lover?

  They’re fine if I don’t have to live with one. Do you live with one?

  I’ve got three of them.

  I’m allergic. I have allergies that bother me when I’m around them.

  I don’t have any allergies.

  Well, now there—that wasn’t too much trouble, was it? I know a little something about you now. You live with three cats and you don’t have any allergies.

  Do you want me to start now, baby?

  Not yet, not yet. Not like that. It’s got to be natural, you know.

  Natural.

  I’m sober, too, Marilyn. Believe it or not. This is a very sober phone call.

  Why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing?

  Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?

  Okay. Ask, lover. I think I already said I’m not wearing anything.

  Well, but I wanted to know one problem you’re having in your life—something we could commiserate about, maybe.

  You know what, John? I really don’t have that many problems right now. I’m not desperate, or unhappy or lonely, particularly. I’m going to school and this is a job. And I usually do most of the talking, and I like to talk, so that’s all right, too.

  But it’s not real talk. It’s the same things over and over.

  There’s only a few things to say, right?

  Doesn’t that get old? That must get awful boring for you.

  But there’s usually somebody soooo interested on the other end of the line. Do you ever tell a joke, John? Do you tell jokes?

  I see your point.

  It’s usually so easy. These guys who call are fast. You know what I’m saying? Most of them have already got a start on it.

  But nobody’s laughing.

  That isn’t what the desired result is, though, right?

  The whole thing sounds a little pathetic to me. Do they ever ask you to say you love them?

  Sure, some do. Now and then one does. That’s a pretty harmless thing to ask.

  And you don’t mind doing that.

  I’m talking on a telephone, lover.

  Any of them ever scare you?

  It’s usually pretty friendly, and like I say, I do most of the talking. There’s one guy who calls to say what he’d like to do to me—an obscene phone caller. Before we were around, he probably upset a lot of nice little housewives.

  What do you see in the future for yourself? You think you’ll ever be a nice little housewife, as you put it?

  Are you writing a book?

  I wondered if you plan on getting married someday, that’s all.

  Sure, why not? And what’s wrong with using the word housewife?

  I think you ought to ask my wife that one. Oh, boy, do I. I would love to see what she’d say to that one, I really would.

  She’s not a housewifey type?

  Let us say she is not a housewifey type, yes. Let us just say that. Let us use that as the starting point of any conversations that arise about my, um, er, um, wife. She is not a housewifey type lady.

  Okay.

  So you plan on being a housewifey type someday.

  Why not? Sure.

  Kids?

  I hope so—someday.

  I’ve got two kids. I don’t get to see them very
often these days. What’s your major?

  I haven’t decided.

  Do you like a drink now and then?

  Sure.

  I’m bothering you, right? Don’t deny it because I can hear it in your voice.

  Is my voice starting to irritate you?

  You know what irritated Kate about me?

  Your voice?

  Now you’re making fun. You’ve got me on the speakerphone, right?

  I don’t have a speakerphone, John. What irritated Kate about you?

  Well, she called it the convoluted nature of my mind. My—my thoughts. She said I twisted things around in my head until they started to hurt me and then I’d blame her for it. She said I was the most morbid, convoluted son of a bitch she ever saw, and she wasn’t even yelling when she said it. Do I seem convoluted to you?

  I wouldn’t say that, lover.

  I like it better when you say my name.

  Okay—John.

  Are you younger than thirty-two?

  Yes.

  And Marilyn is your real name.

  Well, actually—

  Please tell me what your real name is, Marilyn. Your first name. I told you mine.

  How do I know you told me your real name?

  It’s on my credit card.

  Honey, they just punch the name through and open the line for me.

  Well, John is my real name. Now please tell me yours.

  …

  What harm can it do?

  It’s Sharon.

  Hi, Sharon.

  Hi.

  Do you like sports, Sharon?

  I play tennis.

  I never played tennis. I’m a swimmer.

  I swim, too.

  Did you compete?

  I was second team in high school.

  I won a few medals in college, Sharon.

  No kidding.

  I started out pretty fast. That’s where I met Kate. We dated for almost five years.

  Couldn’t make up your minds.

  Well, we lived together.

  Oh.

  You know what happened to me the other day, Sharon? I was in New York, chasing my wife and the kids—did I tell you she took them and ran off? I chased them all the way up to Boston and then came back. She’s got all the help and the ammunition. The law on her side, and lawyers and I’m a convoluted son of a bitch. And my own sister thinks I’m a wash, to use her ridiculous phrase. Anyway, the other day I was on this street corner in New York, down near the Village, and these two prostitutes were there waiting for the light to change. And I stood next to them, waiting. There wasn’t much traffic to speak of. But they stood there. I wanted to say to them—I wanted to ask them why they chose to obey that particular law, you know? Why they were in compliance with the traffic law there and not in compliance with the several other laws they were breaking. Does this make sense to you? I mean I got arrested for beating down a door and it was like I was a criminal or something—or dangerous. Kate took out this peace bond on me, and it’s like I’m on parole.

  You think too much.

  That’s what Kate used to say, too.

  Well, maybe you should listen to her.

  I did. I did a lot—all the time. But then there was the fact that her voice started getting on my nerves. My convoluted mind started getting on hers.

  I don’t know what to tell you, lover.

  Did you ever have a relationship fall apart?

  …

  Maybe not a marriage.

  Actually, John, I’ve been in and out of relationships. I just haven’t found the right one. I think the one I have now might be the right one, only—

  Only what?

  Nothing.

  No, you were going to tell me something. That was sweet—come on, Sharon.

  Well, he never actually says the words, you know—that—that he loves me. I don’t believe I’m telling you this.

  And it’s important to you that he say it.

  Okay—yeah. Right. It is. Wouldn’t you wonder about it if you were seeing someone and you said I love you to them all the time and they never said it back?

  I love you, Sharon.

  …

  Like that?

  Well, it would be him saying it. He’s very nice and I like being with him. But sometimes he—he seems to be avoiding it as a subject.

  I love you, Sharon.

  …

  I love you. I really do—I feel the warmest sense of affection toward you now. Right now it’s the truest thing in my whole mistake of a life.

  Okay.

  No, I mean it.

  I said okay, lover. I don’t think you should keep going on about it.

  That’s what Kate used to say.

  …

  Is he good to you?

  As a matter of fact, he is. In every other way, he is.

  Did you ever have a boyfriend who knocked you around?

  No, and I wouldn’t either.

  Kate’s father was like that. A military guy—with a mean streak. He was always coming up with things to be critical about. Kate grew up with him yelling at her and hitting her. Did you ever have anything like that, growing up?

  No, thank God.

  Well, it does something to a person. Kate is just as likely to react violently to something as she is anything else. I’ve never laid a hand on her, of course. I kicked a door in to see my children. Just to lay eyes on them one time, you know. But when she gets mad she tends to think of finding ways to cause you physical pain. She’ll hit at you or throw something. It’s scary as hell sometimes. She’s always been the strong one, and she knows it. Not physically, of course. But inside—the one with the iron. The one with the highly developed critical sense. And I do love her, you know. It’s not like you can turn that kind of thing on and off, like a faucet sort of thing.

  Different people can do different things, lover.

  Yeah, sure—do you come from good parents?

  Uh-huh.

  I don’t mean it as anything but curiosity about someone I’m very fond of, Sharon.

  Oh, and I’m growing fond of you, too, baby. Oooh, I’d like to have you touch me—

  Not yet, wait. Just a little more general talk. I really feel something for you now.

  Me, too. I’m getting all hot—

  Are your parents still living?

  …

  Come on, just a little more.

  Okay. My parents are still living.

  You get along with them?

  sI never saw much of my father growing up. He and my mother got a divorce when I was small—I was only about five. My mother is fine. She lives in perfect blindness in Chicago.

  By that do you mean she doesn’t know what you’re doing to put yourself through school?

  Among other things.

  Such as?

  She’s a devout Catholic. I’m not.

  Were you ever?

  When I was young I guess, sure.

  Divorce is hard on a child. I’m worried about my own children. What they think of their father chasing after them like that, banging down doors. They’ve got to know that means I feel my love for them passionately.

  I guess.

  I’ll tell you, Sharon—I’m about at the end of my self. I mean I’ve reached down and I’ve reached down and called up all the reserves and there’s nothing left. My family’s gone. I think she’s got my own children afraid of me. Imagine that.

  You just have to be patient and stick it out, John.

  Well, that’s a bromide, Sharon. That’s not worthy of you.

  …

  Hello?

  I haven’t hung up. Yet.

  Yeah, well anyway, I guess I’ve proved to myself that I’m not totally off the deep end—I can have a normal conversation.

  Somewhat normal.

  What’s funny, lover?

  Funny?

  You laughed just then, didn’t you?

  I love you, Sharon. Does it make you feel good to hear it?

  Not reall
y, no. It has to be him saying it.

  Can’t you use your imagination a little?

  You’re the one who’s supposed to be doing that.

  What’s to imagine? You’ll provide the material, right?

  Okay, if you say so.

  I’m sorry, don’t be upset with me, Sharon. I’m harmless, really. And I do feel this tremendous affection for you.

  Why don’t you say that to Kate?

  …

  Hello?

  That was kind of you, to think of that, Sharon, really.

  Thanks.

  I really do feel this huge affection for you now. It’s strange.

  Well, I like you, too.

  You know what, Sharon? I wish I could see you. In fact, I’d like to have you sitting on my lap naked.

  Oh, well—

  I would. I’d like to nibble the lobes of your ears and get into a bathtub with you and wash you all over. I’d like to put my tongue in your—

  Okay, wait—hold it. Hold on, John. This is where you want to start in on the sex?

  Why can’t you just let it happen naturally?

  You’re kidding me, right?

  I’m serious as hell, Sharon.

  Look, you know what? I don’t feel right about this now. And if you are a reporter, report that one. I don’t like you saying that stuff to me now.

  But—hell, Sharon, what do I really know about you? I don’t know you that well. Come on. I just asked a few general questions. It was just conversation.

  Well, it’s got me spooked, and I’d just as soon leave it there.

  Okay, then let’s go on talking about my miserable personal life awhile, until you feel like going ahead. You start, when you’re ready. Talking the line—when it seems right for you.

  I started a couple of times, John—and you stopped me.

  The next time, I promise I won’t stop you.

  But—see, I don’t think it’s going to seem right for me now. I mean I don’t feel it now, and I wouldn’t be very convincing. I’m not feeling all that good now, to tell you the truth. I think I feel a migraine coming on.

  Let me get this straight—you have a headache?

  I don’t have a headache. Migraines don’t always have to be headaches. I get them like light shows in my eyes, and the only thing for it is to lie down until the light show stops. But that isn’t the point, really. The point is I don’t feel right about this now.

  You actually require yourself to feel something on these calls?

  You know what I mean, lover.

  What’re you, an actress?

  Okay. Sure.