by Chuck Kinder
Hey, listen, old dog, Jim said, I love you, too, and I really wish I could give you a hand, but I only have about fifty fucking bucks to my name.
No, Ralph said. —That’s not what I’m talking about.
So, Jim said, what’s your point?
I don’t know, Ralph said, and shrugged. —I don’t know, I guess. Food for thought. Wonder whatever happened to our waitress with that last round of drinks? You know, there’s this passage in Dostoevsky. It’s about this fellow who is given the choice to die or to stand on this ledge throughout all eternity.
So what’s your point, Ralph? Jim asked. —You’re sure being a cryptic fuck tonight. So how wide is the ledge?
I don’t know, Ralph said. —Some choice. Here comes your wife.
4
Where’s Alice Ann? Ralph asked when Judy sat down at the table.
She’s still in the little girls’ room, Judy said.
She must be doing one of her marathon number twos, Ralph said. —Did she leave her cigarettes? he said, and slid the little lantern around looking. —Holy moly, she must be drunk. She left her bag on the chair, he said, and placed the lantern on the table’s edge while he rummaged through the handbag. Ralph looked up quickly when the waitress approached the table carrying a tray of drinks.
Here you go, folks, the waitress said, and placed the drinks around. —Are you sure there won’t be anything else tonight, folks? she asked.
No. No, thank you, Ralph said. —I believe that will be the last round, like my wife said. Thank you. Everything was nice. Very nice.
Cool, the waitress said, and placed a small tray with the bill on the table.
Ralph picked the bill up and looked it over. He held it up to the lantern and looked it over again carefully. He returned the bill to the tray and then after a moment picked it up and studied it again, his lips moving as he read it over.
Jaysus, Ralph said, and placed the bill back onto the tray.
Steep? Jim asked him.
Oh, just another nail in my coffin, Ralph said, and gulped his drink, which was a double bourbon.
Hey, old dog, let me grab the tip, Jim suggested. —Here goes, Jim said, and took out the little spiral notebook and pen he always carried in his shirt pocket in those days. He wrote on a page and then tore it out and placed it on the tray. —There you go, old dog, Jim told Ralph. —The tip is covered.
Ralph reached over and picked the notepaper up and read it out loud: Plant com early.
That there’s a valuable tip, Jim told Ralph. —My old redneck daddy gave me that tip, and one year it saved the farm.
Ralph rolled up the tip and tossed it over his shoulder. He tapped his coffee spoon lightly on the tabletop and gazed around the dark room.
You wouldn’t recognize a good tip if somebody stuck it up your ass, Jim said. —Stay in school, now that’s a good tip.
Ralph rolled his eyes and picked up the last of his drink and shook ice loose in the glass. He tossed the ice into his mouth and began to crunch it slowly. He began to make little overlapping patterns of damp circles on the bar napkin with the bottom of his glass. Suddenly Ralph laughed out loud. It was like a bark. Then he covered his mouth with a paw and coughed. Then he turned in his chair and began to rummage in Alice Ann’s handbag again.
I have some of these Vantages, Judy said. —They’re not very strong, but you’re welcome to them. I’m trying to quit.
Never mind, Ralph said. —Thanks, anyway.
Feed pigs popcorn, Jim said. —That’s another one of daddy’s tips that saved my bacon.
When Alice Ann finally returned to the table, Ralph flashed her a broad smile.
We got the bill while you were otherwise engaged, Ralph said.
Terrific, Alice Ann said, and shrugged. She swirled her margarita.
You know, Ralph said, I thought my sirloin tasted like an old piece of boiled goat.
I adored my meal, Alice Ann said.
I sort of liked whatever it was I had, Judy said.
You had pastitsio with kima, hon, Alice Ann said.
Well, I adored my moussaka, Jim said, smirking at Ralph.
Moussak-a is more like it, Ralph said. —I hate this so-called restaurant like I’ve never hated an establishment before.
Ignore him, troops, Alice Ann said. —He’s just getting into one of his little snits. He didn’t have the imagination to order ethnic, so he wants to pout.
Ralph picked the bill up off the tray and examined it again in the lantern light.
Nope, Ralph said, and put the bill back on the tray.
Nope, Ralph? Alice Ann said. —Fucking nope?
Nope, sirree, Ralph said, and chuckled. —Nope, I’m not going to pay it.
Very funny, dear, Alice Ann said. —I just forgot to laugh.
I mean it, Ralph said. —I’m not going to shell out.
Well, er, who is, then? Jim was real curious to know. —I don’t see old John Cheever anywhere.
I don’t know, Ralph said. —Not me, that’s for sure. That’s not my bill. I don’t see my name anywhere on that particular bill.
Hey, old dog, Jim said, this was supposed to be your treat. Alice Ann said so!
I don’t care. I’m not going to shell out. I hate this restaurant. This restaurant stinks. This restaurant smells like Zorba’s armpits.
Don’t pay any attention to him, troops, Alice Ann said, and lit a cigarette. —Our anniversary boy has just gotten plastered per usual and peevish.
My sirloin tasted like goat, Ralph said. —I’ve got my standards. It’s not my bill of fare.
Don’t worry, gang, Alice Ann said. —I’m the keeper of the plastic in this so-called family.
Not tonight you’re not, Ralph said.
Come again, sweetie-pie, Alice Ann said.
Look and learn, Ralph said.
Alice Ann stubbed her cigarette out slowly. She slid her billfold from her handbag and opened it to her card folder.
Very clever, Ralphie, Alice Ann said. —I just don’t believe you sometimes. And this time you’ve achieved a new low-rent level. All right, Ralph, is it a scene you want? May I help you with a scene, is that it?
Hey, you two, Jim said.
Why don’t we all just chip in? Judy suggested, and opened her own purse.
I think Ralph has his little heart set on a public scene, Alice Ann said. —I would hate to disappoint the anniversary boy. After that amazing six-second mercy fuck, I feel I owe the boy something. Ralph just lives for public scenes, see. They give him something to write about, after all. After all, if all Ralph could depend upon for his writing was his imagination, where would he be?
I don’t care, Ralph said. —Raise the roof. Go on, throw some chairs and tables around. See where that gets you tonight. No one knows me here. I, for one, have never been in this smelly establishment before. Unlike you and whoever your Mediterranean Romeo is. I can just see that Greek goat now. Coarse and dark, hairy-armed, mustachioed. Reeking of garlic and olives and anchovies. Breath like feta cheese.
I guess the cat’s out of that bag, Alice Ann said. —So tell me, Ralph, how long have you been spying on us, on Zorba and me?
Zorba! Ralph bellowed. —Too much, I say!
Oh come on, you two, Jim said.
I only have seven dollars, Judy said.
Hey, listen, old dog, Jim said. —We don’t carry credit cards and I don’t have my checkbook with me, or I’d gladly pick up the tab myself.
I just bet, Ralph said, then grabbed Alice Ann by an arm and hissed, Zorba, Alice Ann? Zorba?
I would! Jim told Ralph. —Why not go ahead and grab it for now and I’ll write you a check when we get home. Now how’s them apples?
I’ll write you a check myself when we get home, Judy said. —And, Ralph, you know I’ll keep my word.
You people just don’t get the picture, Ralph said. —I can’t use the plastic, even if I wanted to. They’ll run a check on it, I know they will. Then they’ll call the plastic police. At the very least,
and I kid you not, they’ll bring that card back on a litde tray all cut to pieces.
Oh, don’t be so goddamn paranoid, Ralph, Alice Ann said. —They don’t have any reason to check that card.
They have all the reason in the world. You have been here before. You and Zorba. Zorba the goat. God only knows how much paper you’ve hung in this pathetic place.
Ralph, Alice Ann said, why did you smoke that dope before we got here? You should never smoke dope and drink, too. You always get so goddamn paranoid.
They’ll cut up the card, Ralph said. —It’s true. I know it will happen to us again. I can just feel it in my bones.
This is all just downright silly, Judy said. —This is your-all’s wedding anniversary, don’t forget.
Tell me about it, Alice Ann said. —Let me count the moments.
Well, buddy, what do you suggest? Jim asked Ralph. —Who’s going to wash the dishes?
Why don’t we simply walk away? Ralph said. —You know, vanish into thin air. Like Alice Ann said we should have done that night with John Cheever. It’s not like we haven’t walked our share of checks, Alice Ann.
Happy anniversary, troops, Alice Ann said, and raised her empty champagne glass. —Well, Ralph, I’ll have to admit that walking an anniversary dinner check seems somehow so appropriate for us.
I won’t do any such thing, Judy said in a huff.
Jim picked up the bill from the little tray and gave it a gander.
So, okay, Ralph, Jim said, what’s your plan?
Jim! Judy squeaked, don’t you even think about any such thing.
We’re all in this boat together, Ralph said. —Just remember that.
Don’t worry, Jim told his first wife, I won’t tell Melvin on you.
Who? Ralph said.
Jim, please, Judy said.
He’s a friend of Zorba’s, Jim told Ralph.
It will be a failure of imagination not to walk this check, Ralph said. —To coin a phrase. Hey, it’ll be simple. I’ll order some more champagne, see. Mumm’s, this time. Two bottles of Mumm’s. As though we’ve decided to celebrate some more, after all. As though we’ve decided the evening is young. As though we’ve decided life is too short not to celebrate until the cows come home. Then after a few toasts you two just get up and depart. As though you’re simply leaving before we, the anniversary couple, are. As though you told the babysitter you’d be home a little before the cows. Then mosey on out and get the car warmed up and simply wait for us to effect our own clean getaway. See, you two are not really even involved in this business at all. Just wait for us outside, ready to roll with a moment’s notice. Just be ready to peel out. To leave rubber, if it comes to that. Then Alice Ann can act as though she’s going to return to the, er, little girls’ room for another marathon poop, and she can simply slip out the bar-side’s door instead. Then I’ll slip out. I’ll be the last one to go. I’ve already thought of a foolproof plan. It’ll all be a piece of cake. Alice Ann and I have done this dozens of times.
Did you kids know I was once in an Off Broadway play? Alice Ann said. —I was. How many times have I told you that? But I was. I could have had a different life.
A cakewalk, Ralph said. —No fooling.
I’ve never done anything like this in my entire life, Judy said.
Fallen Homecoming Queens are capable of anything, Jim said.
Don’t you see, Ralph said, the beauty of my plan is that none of you guys really runs any risk at all. I’ll be the last one to leave. I’ll run all the personal risk.
Risk, Ralph? Alice Ann said. —What do you know about personal risk? I once thought I was knocked up by a famous black actor. I banged on his door. I told him to his face. But he denied any responsibility. He told me to go back to my husband. So here I sit. End of story.
A cakewalk, Ralph said.
So here I sit celebrating my seventeenth wedding anniversary, Alice Ann said. —Hey, I have a bright idea, troops. Let’s go parking tonight. While Ralph and I still have the convertible, anyway. Before the court takes it away. We’ll find a place up in the hills so we can look out over the lights. We’ll keep the top down. We can let the boys feel us up, hon. We’ll all dry-hump and finger-fuck like in the old days. We’ll get seriously nude. We’ll lie there in that hot dark with absolutely nothing but the radio on.
So we won’t really be involved? Judy asked Ralph.
Right, Ralph said. —Heck, even if they stop me, so what? What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll act as though there was a little misunderstanding about who was supposed to pick up the tab. Then, as a last resort, I’ll try to push my plastic. Then, by golly, I’ll wash some dishes, if it comes to that, sweep some floors, blow the cooks. But you guys will be long gone.
Ralph, sweetie-pie, Alice Ann said, if you’re going to stiff a bill, stiff a serious bill. Do it with a litde real flair, dearest. Why don’t we set up the whole house? Tell the waitress the anniversary saps want to order the house’s best champagne for everybody in the place. Including the cooks. So then everybody can get in on the celebration of our seventeenth wedding anniversary. Then we’ll stiff that bill. Now, that would be a bill worth stiffing. You could even write one of your sad, ordinary, little stories about stiffing a bill like that. Use your imagination for once, Ralph.
You always want to go too far, Alice Ann, Ralph said. —You have never understood limits. There have to be some limits in life.
Oh come on, Ralph, Alice Ann said. —Please show a little imagination for once, please. You know, Ralph, that’s always been your problem, Ralph. You must know that by now. You just don’t have enough imagination for the big time, Ralph.
I have just as much imagination as the next fellow, Ralph said. —You just want to make a big scene, that’s all. You’re dying to cause a scene. So you can take the credit. Alice Ann loves to star in big scenes, folks. And the more sordid the scene, the better.
I’m simply doing what you want me to do, Ralph, Alice Ann said. —Deep in your heart, you want me to cause a scene. That’s always been my main function in this so-called marriage. So you won’t have to get up tomorrow and use your imagination, you cocksucker.
Hey, you two, come on, Jim said.
Two bottles should do the trick nicely, Ralph said. Ralph picked up the lantern and waved it in the air to get the attention of the waitress, who was several tables away. —You guys go ahead and order up some of their best bubbly. Meanwhile, I need another drink. A stiff one. In the worst way. Who else needs another drink? Why don’t I just slip off to the bar and get us all another round, while we’re waiting for that waitress to reenter our lives.
Celestial Navigation
Through clicking windshield wipers Jim stared at stars and tried to recall those constellations he had memorized as a boy. Ralph’s hands were high on the steering wheel, and now and then he twisted the wheel this way or that, as though turning into imaginary curves on the California shopping center’s parking lot. Every now and then Ralph revved up the engine. But he made no move to put the ragtop into gear. The clicking wipers drew Jim’s eyes to the windshield’s curved glass, where he saw Ralph’s and his faces reflected like death masks. Jim suddenly wondered who the real witness to these events in their lives was, Ralph or him, and whose memory they would fill meaningfully. For the very first time in their friendship Jim had this sudden fear of being lost, or submerged, as it were, in Ralph’s memory or imagination or, worst of all, his future fame. Then Ralph reached forward and turned off the windshield wipers. Before Jim could break the focus of his concentration from their creepy reflections on the curved glass of the windshield, Ralph said, Let me get this straight, our wives are under arrest?
