Collected Stories

by T E. D Klein

  "Now the guy you're gonna see, he had us fooled. We thought we'd took every precaution with him, you know? But we should've used a straitjacket. Christ, the guy really tore hell out of his throat. With his bare hands yet.

  ***

  "George, I've got to admit it: I'm jealous, I really am. This place is fantastic." Milton raised his glass." Here's to you, you old son of a bitch! And to your new house."

  He was about to down his Scotch, but Ellie stayed his hand.

  "Honey, wait. Let's let everybody in on it." She turned to the other guests, who were gathered in little clumps of conversation throughout the living room." Hey, everybody! Can I have your attention, please? My husband has just proposed a toast to our charming host and hostess..." She waited for silence.

  "And to their bountiful kindness in letting us peasants"

  "Peons, Ellie, peons!" shouted Walter. Like the rest of them, he was already rather drunk.

  "Yeah," echoed Harold, "us miserable peons!"

  "Okay," Ellie laughed." To their bountiful kindness in opening their new home-"

  "Their stately new home."

  "Their mansion!"

  "For opening their mansion to us poor miserable downtrodden peons. And furthermore-"

  "Hey," interrupted her husband, "I thought I was going to make the toast!" They all laughed." I mean I've been practicing for this all week!" He turned to the rest, milking the joke." I tell you, the old lady doesn't let me get a word in edgewise anymore!"

  "Yeah, come on, El," shouted Walter, "give the poor guy a chance, and then you can put the muzzle back on!"

  Everyone laughed except Walter's wife, Joyce, who whispered, "Really, honey, I sometimes think it's you that needs-"

  "Ladies and gentlemen." Milton spoke with mock gravity." I hereby propose a toast to our esteemed host-"

  All eyes turned toward George, who grinned and made a low bow. "-and to Phyllis, our equally esteemed hostess-"

  "Gee, Ellie, you've really got him trained, haven't you!"

  "I freely admit it," said Milton, placing the hand with the drink over his heart. After twenty-eight years"

  "Twenty-seven."

  "It just feels like twenty-eight!"

  " Oh, Waltie, hush up."

  "After twenty-seven years of wedded bliss, she's finally done it. She's even got me making my own bed!" He paused for the cheers and the groans, then turned toward Phyllis. "But as I was saying, I would like to pay tribute to that gracious, charming, ravishingly beauti-", Phyllis tittered, "-stunningly coiffured-"

  Self-consciously she patted the streaks in her new feathercut, "-and delightfully sexy woman he calls his wife."

  "I'll drink to that!"

  "Hear hear!"

  "You're allowed to drink to that too, Phyllis."

  "Yeah, somebody mix Phyllis a drink."

  "Oh, that's silly!" squealed Phyllis." I'm not supposed to drink to myself"

  "Nonsense, my dear." George handed her a vodka and tonic, then seized his own.

  "And finally," continued Milton, raising his voice and his glass, "to the reason we're all gathered here tonight, the cause of all our celebration-"

  " And jealousy," added his wife.

  "To this beautiful, beautiful house, this rustic retreat nestled amidst the wilds of Connecticut, this find of a lifetime, which makes our own split-levels look like something out of Levittown "You're laying it on a bit thick," said George. He winked at the others ." I think Milt missed his true calling. He should have been a poet, not a stockbroker."

  "Or a real estate salesman!" cried Walter.

  Milton continued undaunted. "This museum-"

  "Museum?" George winced; all this congratulation embarrassed him. He could sense the envy in it, and the bitterness. "Mausoleum is more like it!"

  "-containing room after room of the rarest antiquities-"

  "Junk! Nothing but junk!"

  "-this magnificent Colonial mansion-"

  "Aw, come on, Milt! It's just an old barn, for Chrissake!"

  "-in which George can play country squire and Phyllis lady of the manor, to their hearts' content-"

  George laughed. "I've still got to drive to work every day!"

  "-this baronial hall, this playground of the landed gentry, this irrefutable testament to the smartest real estate finagling this side of Manhattan Island-"

  George's smile faded.

  "-this glorious old homestead, now a new home for George and Phyllis, in the hope that their years are blessed with just as much luck as they've had in acquiring it."

  There was a moment's uneasy silence.

  "Are you done, Milt?" said George.

  "That's right, old buddy." Milton downed his Scotch. The others followed with a round of applause, but it was a feeble one; George's embarrassment embarrassed them all. Then Walter yelled out, "And in the hope that you'll give lots more parties like this one! How about every weekend, for starters?" And that relaxed them into laughter, though a little too loud, a little too long.

  "When are you gonna show us the rest of this place?" cried Sidney Gerdts.

  "Yeah, when do we get a tour of the estate? That's what we came for!"

  "Come on, Phyl, you promised."

  "She's been talking about this place for the last six months!"

  "Yeah, you really had us drooling."

  "So what does she do now? Keeps us cooped up in this living room like a bunch of kids!"

  "How about it, Phyl? What 're you ashamed of?"

  Phyllis smiled." The tour starts when everybody gets here."

  "Isn't everybody here?"

  "Who's missing?"

  "Herb and Tammie Rosenzweig haven't shown up yet," said George." They told me they'd be able to make it…

  "I think maybe they were having some trouble finding a sitter," said Doris, Sidney's wife." I spoke to them this morning."

  Harold made a face." Aw, they're always late. It takes Tammie two hours to put on her makeup." He shuffled toward the bar and poured himself another whiskey and soda.

  " Let's start without'em, then."

  "Now, Sid, really," said Doris, taking him by the hand, "you know that wouldn't be fair. Come on, let's go over and look at these." She pulled him toward a wall of bookshelves." Maybe you can reach the ones on the top. They're too high for me."

  "Aw, gee, honey, they're just a lot of old books. Kid stuff, too, from the look of them. Fairy tales. Probably came with the house."

  "But they look interesting, those big ones up there. Maybe they're worth a lot of money."

  Grunting, he stood on tiptoe and removed one, a heavy volume shedding flakes of leather when he opened it, like a dead man's skin.

  "Here, you take it. I can't read this stuff." He handed the book to his wife and turned away, bored.

  Squinting at the text, Doris frowned in disappointment." oh, damn," she muttered, "wouldn't you just know it?"

  George left off talking business with Fred Weingast and ambled over, glass in hand." Having trouble, Dorie?"

  She grimaced." This really makes me feel my age. I used to be so good in French-even knew a word or two of Provengal, which I think this book is in-and now I don't remember a thing."

  "Never could stand it, myself. All that masculine-feminine stuff, and those goddamn accents…" He took a sip of vodka." Actually, I'd toss all these old books out, only they're a good investment."

  Gerdts turned back to them." Investment, did you say? You mean those things are really worth something?"

  "Damn right. They're going up all the time." He nodded to the man who stood talking a few feet away." Isn't that right, Fred?"

  Weingast walked over, followed by Harold and another guest, Arthur Faschman." Yeah, my accountant told me to get into books, especially with the market the way it is. But you've gotta have the room for 'em."

  He shrugged. "Me, my apartment's much too small."

  "Naw, that's not the problem," said Faschman." The problem is keeping them cool and dry. Look at those th
ings up there-they're probably full of mice and silverfish."

  George laughed, a little uneasily." Oh, I doubt there's any mice. We had the place fumigated before moving in. Really fumigated!" He took a sip of vodka." But you know, you're right, those damned things do decay something awful, and when summer comes I bet they'll begin to smell. To tell you the truth, I've been thinking of selling the lot of them to some place down in New Haven. Maybe put in a nice hi-fi unit, or one of those new Betamax things."

  "Yeah, that's a good idea," said Faschman." I've been meaning to get one of those myself. And I'll tell you what you do then: you invest in stamps. They're a lot easier to keep."

  Weingast nodded." Stamps are okay," he said, "but my accountant says coins are eye better. With gold prices going up, they're a pretty safe bet."

  When George left them, the men were deep into high finance. He returned to the bar and refilled his glass.

  Even with the Rosenzweigs' tardiness, and the absence of the Foglers and the Greens, and the fact that Bob Childs was sick and Evelyn Platt was away, it was a big housewarming party. The Brackmans were there, Milt and Ellie, and the Gerdtses, Sid and Doris, and Arthur and Judy Faschman, and Fred and Laura Weingast, and the Stanleys just back from Miami, Dennis and Sarah sporting their new suntans, and Harold and Frances Lazarus, and big Mike Carlinsky with his fiancé, whose name they all kept forgetting, and Phil and Mimi Katz, and the Chasens, Chuck and Cindy, and Walter Applebaum and his new wife, Joyce, and Steve and Janet Mulholland, and Jack and Irene Crystal, and the Fitzgeralds and the Goodhues, and Allen Goldberg and Paul Strauss and poor Cissy Hawkins, who was so homely Allen and Paul wouldn't talk to her, even though she was supposed to be fixed up with one of them.

  Thirty-one people gathered in the Kurtzes' living room; and with the Rosenzweigs arriving now, amid much hugging and handshaking and cries of "At last!" and "It's about time!" and the inevitable wolf whistles at Tammie Rosenzweig's décolletage, that made thirty-three.

  That was a lot of people, George decided. Too many, really, when one considered how many of them weren't even close friends. Why, he and Phyllis barely saw the Mulhollands from one year to the next. And as for the Goodhues, they didn't even know them; they'd been invited by the Fitzgeralds. Leaning back against the bar, George held the glass to his eye and surveyed his guests through a frost of vodka. At times like this it was hard to keep track of them: too many faces to smile at, too many names to remember. Sometimes they seemed almost interchangeable.

  Still, it was nice to have a living room large enough to hold a crowd this size. And anyway, George reflected, he and Phyllis had vowed that as soon as they'd moved into the house they'd become great entertainers.

  A party like this was the perfect way to establish their new identities.

  "George!" Phyllis broke into his reverie." Come over here and take Tommie's coat." She looked up at Herb." And as for you, I think you're a big enough boy to hang your own coat up. It's very informal tonight, we haven't really moved in yet. And you'll have to mix yourselves drinks, we don't even have a bartender!" She laughed, as if to suggest that, in the future, in this fine new house, bartenders would be routine.

  Tammie was talking about how hard it was to find a decent sitter these days." And so finally we decided the hell with it, and left her off at Herb's folks. They never go out anymore anyway." She smoothed her new dress.

  "Lord, George, this place is swell!" said Herb, pumping George's hand."

  I'm just sorry we didn't get here earlier, so we could see it by daylight. Bet those trees are beautiful this time of year. But God almighty, let me tell you, it's hard as hell to find this place!"

  "Weren't Phyllis's directions good enough?"

  "Oh sure, they were all right." Herb followed George to the coat closet." But I mean, it gets so dark out here in the country. I'm just not used to it." He paused until George had found a spare hanger for Tommie's coat." We took the Turnpike all the way up to New Haventhat part was fine, of course-and we got off at C, just as we were supposed to… But once you're off 81 the road gets pretty bad. It's like they suddenly turned out the lights! No markers or anything." He shook his head." You've got influence on the State Highway Commission, don't you, George? I mean, you really ought to do something about it. It's a disgrace!"

  "Yeah, the roads are a little tricky at night, till you get used to them."

  "Tricky? They're a lot worse than tricky, let me tell you. I damn near hit something! Honest to God, I think it was a bear."

  "Oh, come on, Herb!" George slapped him on the back." You've been living in Yonkers too long. This is the country, sure, but it's not the middle of the woods, for Chrissake! There haven't been bears around here for hundreds of years."

  " Well, whatever it was-"

  "Probably some poor old sheep dog. All the farmers around here use'em."

  "Okay, okay, it was a sheep dog, then. Who knows? It was so dark...

  Anyway, I nearly hit the thing, and I would have if Tammie hadn't yelled. And then I got so rattled I missed the turnoff at, what is it, Death's Head?"

  George laughed." Brother, you've got some imagination! You Madison Avenue guys are all alike. The name of the town is Beth Head, dummy!

  Beth Head."

  Herb laughed, too." Anyway, I missed the place completely and ended up driving into the gates of some state park. Can you believe it?

  Tammie was having a fit' We're looking for your house and we end up in some damned park!"

  "Yeah, that's Chatfield Hollow. I've done some fishing there. Very nice area."

  "It must be, during the day. But it's not the kind of place I like to visit at night. Tammie thought she saw a light in the ranger's cabin you know, the one by the gates-and I got out to ask directions. I mean, we hadn't even brought along a goddamned map!"

  George grinned from ear to ear." Poor Herb! You'll just never make a backwoodsman!"

  "Damned right!" laughed Herb." Tammie was fussing about her goddamned dress so much she didn't even think to… Well, anyway, I'm walking up to this godforsaken little cabin, and immediately I see that Tammie was wrong, there's no light in it, the place is boarded up for the season and all… But just in case, I start pounding on the door, you know?, and yelling for the ranger. I mean, we were really lost!" He lowered his voice." Besides, I knew Tammie would squawk if I didn't make sure it was really empty."

  "And was it?"

  "Of course it was! Who the hell would hang around a place like that all night?" He shook his head." So there I am, pounding on this door and wondering if there's a pay phone around so maybe I could call you..

  ...When I hear something lumbering through the bushes."

  "Probably the ranger."

  "I didn't wait to find out. You should have seen how fast I got back into that car and took off! Believe me, I was ready to head right back to New York, but Tammie wanted to show off her new dress." He paused.

  "And of course, I wanted to see this place."

  "You tell Tammie what you heard?"

  "Are you kidding? She'd make such fun of me I'd never hear the end of it. Listen, she thinks I'm a coward as it is. She's the tough one, she really is. I'd never have found this place if it weren't for her. She caught that last turnoff after I was half a mile past it. The damned thing's almost hidden by trees! You ought to cut a few of them down, for Chrissake!"

  "I thought you were supposed to be the big conservationist."

  Herb laughed." Well, just because I send money to the Sierra Club doesn't mean I have to worship trees. I mean, someone's going to have an accident one of these days. Really, George, you ought to do something about it. Get them to put up some lights or something. You've got influence with the Highway Commission, don't you?"

  "Not as much as people seem to think."

  "Well, anyway, it's a safety hazard. I mean, that winding road, so goddamned narrow that I had to go about twenty miles an hour…

  It's just a good thing there weren't any cars going the other way. As
a matter of fact, there wasn't a single other car on the road. Pretty desolate for a place so close to New York."

  "No pollution."

  "Damn right! Hey, I mean it, old buddy. I may not be a nature freak, but I think it's great out here. Like to live here myself."

  "Why not move, then? There must be a few homesteads for sale in these parts. I know there are a couple in the next county. I could even help you look. I mean, it gets a little lonely, sometimes…

  "Hey, I thought you liked living way out here."

  "Oh sure, of course I do. Wouldn't trade it for the world. I just mean, we don't have any friends in the area yet, and it'd be nice to have someone nearby."

  "Ah, you make friends pretty quick, George. Besides, I could never afford a place like this. I mean, all this land!"

  "No, really, it wasn't so bad. Didn't cost much."

  "Come on, man! You've got room for a couple of good-sized golf courses out here. And that driveway of yours, it's as long as a country road.

  You know, I have to keep reminding how near we are to the city. There's so much land, I'll bet you could go hunting right on your own property. And probably get lost, too."

  "Yeah, well, I guess we're really out in the sticks."

  "But that's the best part! I mean it, that's just great! That's the whole point of living out here, I can see that now. The seclusion, the solitude… Boy, could I do with some solitude these days!"

  "Business pretty rough, huh?"

  "Boy, you know it! We're all tightening the belt. How about you?"

  "Oh, pretty much the same, I guess."

  "Aw, now don't be modest, George. You're always selling yourself short. This place must have cost a pretty penny."

  George paused and cleared his throat." Well to tell you the truth, it cost me almost nothing. Got it for a song. The owner went a little you-know -what." He tapped his head.

  "Christ! Leave it to you to find the bargains!" They were back in the living room now. Herb gazed around him, taking in the furnishings, the sheer size of the room, the familiar faces of the other guests.