“No,” I said. “I won’t.”
4
WHEN WE RETURNED TO THE HOTEL, ROBERT WENT TO SLEEP. I walked out on the balcony. I wasn’t hungry and I didn’t feel like reading; I stood leaning out and looking at the sea. It was dark and quiet. Our hotel was situated a distance from the city, no noises reached us; I could hear the waves come in and die on the hot sand. It’s strange how quickly you get used to hearing the sea and how much you begin to depend on it. It would be unbearable, I thought, to go away and never see the sea again. Motionless, I listened to the purring of the waves and watched the lights blink in the distance. I wasn’t thinking of the woman or our dog or what I soon would have to do; the sea released me from all thought and feeling, the way alcohol releases other people. It took me a long time to discover the sea had that power, but it was something I found out for myself so it meant a lot to me. How many things are there, I wondered, that a man can discover about himself without anyone’s help? Not many; all that shouting Robert talks about drowns out the way we really are and all the gifts we possess, even though we don’t possess so many. So it’s a good thing we have at least the sea to look at and listen to. No wise-ass bastard can change that, or try to; that’s what felt so good about looking at the sea.
“Aren’t you sleepy?” Robert asked.
“No,” I answered. “I’m in a philosophical mood. But you go back to sleep.”
“I’m trying to, but I can’t.”
“Nerves?”
“No,” he said. “I was thinking about theater. And then about something else. Then I started thinking about the dog. It’s costing us a pretty penny.”
“How much did it eat today?”
“Two pounds. And it could easily eat twice as much. The butcher at the kosher delicatessen looked at me like I was crazy when I told him all that meat was for my dog. What did you eat today?”
“Some soup and a steak. I spent only a pound and a half.”
“This goddamn beast is costing more than both of us together. Maybe we should get rid of it.”
“It’s up to you. You’re the director. I’m only going through the motions. I don’t even know my part well.”
“One day you’ll be a real actor.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” I said. “But have it your way.”
“You’d make a good one.”
“My voice is lousy.”
“What do you mean your eyes are lousy? You’ve got great eyes! Who the fuck told you they were lousy?”
“Nobody said anything about my eyes. I said my voice was lousy.”
“Well, work on it. It’s all a matter of training. But you’ll never be able to play in a comedy. That’s your weak point.”
“Do you mean that what I’m doing now isn’t comic?”
“Depends on how you look at it.”
“Robert, let’s get rid of the dog.”
“No, the dog’s not a prop. It’s an actor. I’ve just realized it. It’s an actor. You’re playing together. And you need it to play out your anger.”
“I can break somebody’s head,” I said. “Even fight a guy twice my size. But let’s forget about the dog.”
“No. You’ve got to do something really mean. Something you’ll be ashamed of for the rest of your life.”
“The worst part is I have to feel ashamed twice,” I said. “Both before and after the act.”
“You’ve got no choice,” Robert said. “That’s why you’re so tragic. Oedipus plucked his eyes out so he wouldn’t have to see the world. Think in similar terms. Good night.”
At seven in the morning the bouncer came into our room. We were still in bed.
“Listen,” he said, “I need to talk to you.”
“What about?” Robert asked.
“The deal. I think I’ll …”
“Okay,” Robert said, “but not here. There’s a cafe on the next corner. Wait for us there. The broad is staying on the same floor. God forbid she overhears anything. And the coffee they serve here is awful. Go. We’ll join you right away.”
The bouncer left, throwing our dog a timid glance. We dressed quickly and went out into the hall. I was locking the door when I heard a terrible blast: that kid of hers had fired a blank pistol at Robert’s ear.
“Don’t be afraid, sucker, it’s only a toy,” the kid said. “But I sure gave you a scare! You’re chicken, you know.”
It took Robert a moment to regain the power of speech.
“You’re chicken!” the kid yelled, reloading his pistol.
“What’s your name, sonny?” Robert asked him sweetly.
“Johnny,” the kid said. This time he fired at some old crone. She fell against the wall, white as a sheet. “Like Johnny Guitar.
“A doctor,” the crone moaned, gasping for breath. “Get me a doctor, hurry!”
“You’ll be all right,” Robert told her. “Just take a few deep breaths, show more good will to your fellow man, and everything will be tip-top.”
Johnny fired his next shot at a waiter carrying a tray stacked with coffee cups; the loud bang of the shot blended rather nicely with the crash of breaking china.
“You obviously have the wrong approach to children,” Robert added, addressing the crone. Then he wiped his brow and turned to me. “He says his name is Johnny, but every time I look at him it seems to me he’s one of Charles Addams’s characters sprung to life. He’s the weird boy who’s raising a pet pelican in a bottle.”
“He’ll end up in an electric chair,” I said.
“A worse end than that. His cellmates will strangle him and tear his body to pieces. All of America will sigh in relief. But imagine how much the country will suffer before that happens.”
When we entered the cafe, the bouncer was already there, drinking coffee, looking embarrassed.
“Listen,” he said when we sat down at his table, “I made up my mind. I want out.”
“Oh, you do?” Robert asked. “Would you mind telling us why?”
“I’ve had a better offer. My brother and I are going to make chicken coops for the kibbutzim. We know some people who run a carpentry shop, and we can go into business together. We used to build cooling towers with them. Great guys.”
Robert looked like he was going to split apart. “Chicken coops? Are you crazy or something? I’m busting my gut, so is my partner, her kid shoots at me this morning and I think my heart is going to bleed, and you tell me you want to make chicken coops. Why don’t you and your brother hatch eggs instead and convert the chicks to the Eastern Orthodox Church before you slaughter them?”
“I don’t know how reliable this deal of yours is,” the bouncer said.
“Compared to chicken coops it’s a cinch. Don’t be a child. We’ve talked about it, shaken hands on it, so now just leave the rest to us, okay? Trust us. All you have to do is collect your cut when I tell you to. Then you can go ahead and start your chicken farm for all I care.”
“I didn’t sleep a wink the last two nights,” the bouncer complained.
“I believe you. He didn’t either. But that’s your problem.
Buy yourself some sleeping pills and don’t disturb us anymore. We’re not magicians. We need time. But hard work and patience always meet their reward. Didn’t they teach you that in school? Listen, do you know the story of Bruce, the Irish revolutionary?”
“No.”
“Bruce was a resistance fighter in the struggle against the English. One day he was severely wounded, but he managed to hide in a cave. He was almost certain he was going to die when …”
Suddenly our dog growled and we all turned around. The man who had asked us to buy him a beer the day before had no intention of leaving us alone today either. I could see he’d done more heavy drinking last night.