Love In The Time Of Apps

by Jay Begler

  “Well, we are more than delighted to have you on our show. I suppose our first question should be are you happy?”

  Sheila Right spoke: “We’re happier than we’ve ever been, that is pre-split. We can do all the things we were hesitant to do alone. Philip was the least romantic, least adventuresome person on Earth. His idea of a big trip was going to Manhattan. Even then, he would limit his travel to the Upper East Side because it was closer to Long Island than other neighborhoods in Manhattan. Now, we each have someone to do things with, ourselves. And, we have much more in common than we ever did with Philip. Oh, and by the way, we made a documentary about our surgery that will be coming out on HBO early next year.”

  “But more than that,” Sheila Left continued, “we help each other remember things from our past. The other day, for example, we were talking about the Original Sheila’s fourth birthday party. I tried to remember what my mother was wearing or should I say what our mother was wearing. I’d say yellow and Sheila would say white and lavender and together we would probe our memories and reconstruct the entire event. So, we learned that two memories are better than one, even if the memories are identical and even though, and this is important, we regard ourselves as one person. We seem to have this wonderful synergy.”

  Without much prompting, each of the Sheilas began to describe the history of the Original Sheila’s relationship with Goodwin and how she “desperately tried to save a dying and unhappy marriage” and begged “her frigid husband to go for help” so that the she could have a child. Holding up a copy of the New England Journal of Medicine, one Sheila revealed: “Science has now confirmed that one of the major causes of Hypo-Humoresque in women is the failure to ever become pregnant.” Goodwin knew and the editors of the Journal knew and Obrah and Vinfrey knew that Sheila’s statement was a complete fabrication.

  “Oh my God,” Obrah stammered. This means that Philip by avoiding impregnating the Original Sheila caused her Hypo-Humoresque condition.”

  “Absolutely,” the Two Sheilas said in unison.

  “Not only that,” one of the Sheilas said, “a thorough investigation sponsored in part by A Current Affair, revealed that while the Original Sheila was beyond REM, Philip stole most of her money.” Copious booing erupted from the audience at this point. It was ironic; Goodwin thought bitterly, that Obrah and Vinfrey were from Russia. More than likely they were Stalinists because, just like his regime, they were engaging in quintessential revisionist history.

  With each of the Sheilas telling part of their story in tandem, the television audience heard how the Original Sheila had to bear up under a daily barrage of Goodwin’s constant jokes, which he knew she would not understand, and how he used humor as weapons to control and depress her. “But here is something we just learned through our subscription to Pragat Corporation’s customized newsletter about people you want to know about, not many hours after the Original Sheila left Philip, he was looking to get revenge. According to his Pragat Dossier, which we get updated electronically every 24 hours, Philip searched “Revenge, Best Revenge and if you can believe it F-ing Well Is The Best Revenge. Is that depraved or what? Everyone watching except Goodwin murmured “yes.”

  “This is too much!” an angry Vinfrey interjected. “His despicable actions are no different than if you were blind and he pulled away your chair as you were sitting down.”

  “He did that, too,” one of the Sheilas responded. “To the outside world, Philip seemed to be a very nice man. In reality he was quite abusive.”

  “You mean,” a shocked Obrah said, “he abused you physically?”

  “Not physical abuse,” they responded in unison, “unless you include his love making technique, but something just as bad. He engaged in devotional abuse, a subtle and heinous form of spousal abuse, one involving the failure to really appreciate the Original Sheila. You women in the audience know what we mean.” The television camera panned the audience to reveal audience members, both women and men, shaking their heads in agreement, even though they didn’t have a clue.

  “And there were all sorts of those abuses,” one of the Sheilas continued. “There were so many that we can’t catalog them all right now, but we may list them in our biography which is due out at Christmas and an official selection, we are proud to say, of the Obrah/Vinfrey book club. One of the worst abuses was his refusing to split appetizers at restaurants, making the Original Sheila eat an entire appetizer.” This evoked spontaneous shouting of “monster” from some of the thinner women in the audience.

  “Personally,” the other Sheila said, “the one that I found the most annoying was forcing the Original Sheila to count all of her golf strokes. We continue to have a recurring nightmare about being required to count all of our shots on the golf course. In fact, when we went to play golf very early this morning, we started to hyperventilate at the idea of keeping an accurate score. Fortunately, the golf therapist at our club suggested that we fill out our scorecards before we play. That calmed us down, and we really did well.”

  Within two weeks of the airing of the show, Hallmark launched a new line of preprinted golf scorecards, with scores of par and below for $3, scores in the 70s for $2, and scores in the 80s for $1. For golfers with scores in the hundreds, Hallmark had a line of sympathy cards.

  “Like physical or verbal abuse, Philip’s devotional abuse took its toll on the Original Sheila and its effects still haunt us today. Now, we want to channel the anger we still feel in a useful way” one Sheila said, “and to protect women everywhere from men like Philip. People should know that devotional abuse is the largest form of spousal abuse that goes unreported, particularly amongst the upper middle class.” A shot of the audience revealed that they fully agreed. Goodwin had just become the “poster boy” for devotional abuse a made-for-television concept. Not one member of the audience really understood this concept, but it sounded good and it was just another handy reason for disliking Goodwin.

  Vinfrey addressed the Two Sheilas. “Before we go on, I want you to say hello to someone very, very special.” A diminutive woman of indeterminate age, but quite old, very tan, with blue grey hair and skin having a texture of an old baseball glove walked from the rear of the stage.

  “It’s Philip Goodwin’s Great Aunt Hilly,” Obrah announced.

  “She’s not my Aunt. I never met her in my life. She’s a fiction created by the media.” Goodwin screamed at his set, but no one seemed to hear him.

  With wild applause in the background, Aunt Hilly, who had gained celebrity in her own right by becoming the official scribe in Pragat’s comments on Goodwin, walked onto the stage and waved to the audience. The Two Sheilas greeted Hilly as if they knew her. They hugged and Sheila Right said: “Hill!” (the short form to conjure familiarity, Goodwin thought) it has been too long. It’s so nice to see you again. And we heard that you’ve been quite busy.”

  In a raspy voice, Hilly replied, “Yes. I now have my own spot on Fox, ‘Hilly’s House.” It’s a reality television show that takes place in an assisted living facility. Goodwin knew, the Two Sheilas knew and certainly, Great Aunt Hilly knew that she was a fraud. No one else was privy to this knowledge, however. Sitting on a couch between each of the Sheilas, Hilly regaled the audience with stories about Goodwin as a child, none humorous or complementary.

  The show took a mandatory break and when it returned the camera panned the audience. Goodwin sounded like his great grandmother when the Cossacks invaded pillaged her village. He whispered uncharacteristically and strangely in a deep Yiddish accent, “Oy, mine God.” Sophie was sitting in an aisle seat, dressed rather shabbily, and waiving her hand frantically. Goodwin began chanting, “Please God, please God, please God. I really need you now.” God, however, did not respond. Goodwin could not blame him, however. “After all,” he reasoned, “I only call when I need him and I play golf on the High Holy days and I eat pork and when I was a youngster and went to Hebrew school I once threw my yarmulke into a garbage can on the way home.” It w
as interesting how that last sin had stuck with Goodwin all his life and caused him to worry about it coming back to bite him. He now knew that his fears were justified.

  Vinfrey, microphone in hand, began to wend her way through the audience all of whose members desperately wanted to ask the Two Sheilas a question or to make a comment. While the mathematical odds of Vinfrey choosing to stop by Sophie were slim, Goodwin realized that in this instance it was preordained. Thus, when Vinfrey finally stopped in front of Sophie, Goodwin was not surprised. He braced himself.

  Vinfrey handed Sophie a microphone. “I don’t have a question, but a comment. I knew Philip Goodwin carnally and I am here to tell you, that he is a wonderful man and a wonderful lover. People misjudge him. He’s kind and caring and, as I said, a wonderful lover.”

  Some booing erupted, but Vinfrey hushed the audience. “Well Miss...”

  “D’Amour, Sophie D’Amour. I’m the Sophie that everyone has been looking for. I had carnal knowledge with him.”

  “You mean,” Vinfrey inquired, “that you had sexual congress with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sophie, that’s a pretty strong claim. You know many people make up stories just to get on television. Why should we believe you?”

  “Well, I have the video of our sexual encounter in Bloomingdales with me to prove it.”

  At the beckoning of Obrah who had run down to the audience, Sophie stood up and moved to the single aisle that bisected the television audience. Obrah and Vinfrey now flanked her.

  “Would you please repeat what you just said?”

  Speaking into the microphone held by Obrah, Sophie said, “I don’t have a question, rather a comment. As I said, I had carnal knowledge with Philip Goodwin.”

  “For those of you in the television audience not familiar with the terms carnal knowledge or sexual congress,” Obrah interrupted, “it’s the F word.”

  “As I said, he’s a wonderful man. I’m here to defend him. And I am not some crazy person. I have the video from the Bloomingdale’s security camera with me and it shows us making love.”

  Vinfrey wasted no time and in a commanding tone shouted: “Call the security guards!”

  “Thank you, God,” Goodwin said to the ceiling. “I’ll never take your name in vain again. Maybe they were not going to let beautiful, misguided, Sophie show the video. After all, there are still some standards left.”

  The show took a second mandatory commercial break. God, it appeared, was also on a commercial break or His cell phone was out of range, since He didn’t answer Goodwin’s prayers. Apparently, when AT&T announced it had “more bars in more places” heaven was not included, not yet at least. When the show resumed, Sophie was on stage and was hugging the Two Sheilas. All appeared to be weeping. The scene evoked, “Aren’t they wonderful?” from the hostesses.

  The security guard entered behind an accountant-type. At the nod of Vinfrey, the man opened his attaché case and revealed its contents to the television audience, evoking a collective “oooooo” from the audience. Vinfrey, her tone quite serious, addressed Sophie, but looked directly into the television camera as she did so. “Sophie, this attaché case contains $300,000, which we are offering you for the video. In addition, we will give you 10 percent of the revenue we derive from the sales of the video at retail. If you accept it, the video will become our property and will be shown immediately after the next commercial break. You might be able to sell the video for more and negotiate a better deal, but we think this is a good offer.”

  “Oh no, I could never sell the video or compromise Philip’s privacy in that way. I just came by to explain what Philip was really like. You’ll have to take my word for it.”

  Vinfrey was used to this type of initial resistance. A guest would frequently come on and then, motivated by silly concerns of conscience, refuse to “tell all.” Vinfrey speaking like a hypnotist said: “Sophie, look at me. Look at the television cameras. It’s your chance at being on national television, maybe become a real celebrity.” Obrah and Vinfrey and the Two Sheilas, echoed, “Be a celebrity, be a celebrity, be a celebrity…” Then, the coup de gras, “Why you might even have your own television show.” To bolster Vinfrey’s pitch, Great Aunt Hilly interjected with a wink or her eye or an uncontrolled tic, “Take it from one who knows. Do not pass this up. Look, I’ll introduce you to my agent.”

  Sophie was perplexed, made more so by audience chants of “Sell, sell,” or “hold out...hold out.”

  “I don’t know. It seems wrong.” She turned to the Two Sheilas and asked, “What do you think I should do?”

  Being of one mind, they responded in unison, “Sophie, in the language of television shows, The Price Is Right. Philip will be in Jeopardy and this will help us in our Family Feud. So while it can be a Deal or No Deal, we think Deal is better. After all you would be Lost without the money. We suppose some Mad Men would turn it down, but you’re sane. In fact, you would become The Biggest Loser if you didn’t take it. And if you do take it you’ll ultimately be filled with Glee, probably become an American Idol and by doing this you will help us Smash Philip Goodwin and destroy his House of Cards. And don’t worry if it causes a Scandal.” The audience began to laugh, applaud and nod in appreciation.

  “After the commercial break,” Vinfrey announced as she handed the money to Sophie, “we’ll see Philip Goodwin having raw unadulterated sex with Sophie, and because of the newsworthiness of the video we will not delete any of its portions regardless of the video’s sexual content. This is not sex, its news. If sex between consenting adults were shown for entertainment, it would be pornography and would be banned. If sex is shown as news, it’s perfectly acceptable.”

  As Vinfrey was talking, the camera focused in tight on Sophie. There were tears in her eyes, and in Goodwin’s eyes, too.

  1-800-DUMP PHIL/ 1-800-KEEP PHIL

  Goodwin was running full tilt through the byways of Grace Harbor. It was the only way he could vent and possibly cope with the amalgam of sadness, anger, and frustration that took hold of him as Sophie was about to offer up the video of their splendid one night stand. Goodwin imagined that by now, perhaps an hour after the show, the video had gone viral. He thought of their night at the Forties when they swore their unequivocal love for each other. “What was that all about?” he wondered.

  As Goodwin exited the residential section of Grace Harbor and began to run along its waterfront, a psychological shift occurred. His defense mechanisms kicked in. Irrationally perhaps, he came to the conclusion that the Two Sheilas had seduced a fragile Sophie into selling the video. She was just an innocent victim. After all, he reasoned, she went to the show with good intentions. Whether his reasoning was sound didn’t really matter. Goodwin, or more likely his subconscious, had erected this premise to shield him from the unbearable realization that Sophie betrayed him and did so for the most obvious of reasons: money. Once he accepted the fact that the only ones at fault in this case were the Two Sheilas, not poor Sophie, he felt a degree of comfort. Now that blame was cast into the proper place his sadness morphed into intense hatred. He sped up his pace.

  At the far end of a dock and not knowing how he got there, Goodwin stopped, took out his cell phone, and placed a call to the Two Sheilas’ public phone number.

  “Hello, this is The Sheila. We are not in right now, but your message is important to us. If this is a call to ask for a license to use our name or likeness, please call our agent Speedy Lazar at Melrose 5-5300. If not, please leave a message after the beep.”

  His message was short, but heartfelt. This time there was no ranting. In a deliberate and what the media described the following morning as an “ominous tone,” Goodwin said, “You’ve ruined my life. I’m going get revenge.” Then, using a line which originated in The Fly and which has since become hackneyed, he said “Be afraid. Be very afraid.” He later admitted, “Not only was what I said stupid, it wasn’t even original.”

  He welcomed the evening. A chance to sleep wou
ld provide a minor escape from the world around him. As soon as his head hit the pillow Goodwin fell into a deep sleep, one not aided or abetted by alcohol or drugs. He dreamt that he had the guillotine franchise in the days of Marie Antoinette and that the Two Sheilas were about to be executed for the crime of being “les femmes miserable.” When Goodwin, wearing a smile face executioner’s mask, asked if they had any last remarks and would like to proclaim their innocence they screamed, “Yes.” With a smile beneath his smile face mask he said in a cheery voice, “I am so sorry we’re out of time,” and released the blade.

  About the time the blade was making contact with their necks, he somehow sensed an external force shaking him rather roughly out of his sleep. He was shocked by what he saw. The Two Sheilas stood on each side of his bed, each of them wearing extremely sexy lingerie, bearing “Victoria’s Secret” in prominent places. Before he could start screaming at or even assault them, Sheila Left pulled him from his bed.

  “Oh, my darling Phil, we didn’t intend to ruin your life and we are so sorry. We want to make it up to you, let’s make love and start all over.”

  In retrospect, Goodwin believes his response was appropriate. He blurted out, “I can’t. I won’t. I can’t. I won’t. I can’t. I won’t. I can’t. I won’t.” He was beginning to sound like the Little Engine That Could (“I-Think-I-Can-I-Think-I-Can…I know I can”). He shouted, “I wouldn’t touch you with a 10 foot pole.”

  The Two Sheilas were laughing hysterically. “Oh, Phil,” they chuckled,” every thing you say is so funny. We don’t know any Poles who are that tall, though we did meet a nice Latvian basketball player.” Goodwin did not appreciate the humor of the situation, particularly because they were being glibber than he was. “I hate your fucking, fucking, fucking guts.”