“I’m sorry to keep interrupting you, Mr. Caldwell. I’m sorry to keep repeating myself. But you are not a happy man. And you know it. Your very defensive attitude reveals it. Happy men are under no compulsion to save string. Happy men do not wash their hands until the flesh is red and chafed, the knuckles constantly rubbed raw from frequent cleansing with strong abrasive soaps. Happy men do not require as sexual stimulation, that their mistresses—”
“Please, let’s not mention that part again. I wish I hadn’t let that slip out.”
“You will be thankful some day that you were utterly frank with me. And you will be thankful that I am utterly frank with you.” I leaned forward, confidentially. “I want you to retire. These sessions are stimulating, but they are not enough. In order to remake your life, you must devote your life to the task.
“Your present habit-patterns and associations keep you chained to the very reflexes and conditioning which make you unhappy. You will never be free, never emancipate your personality, until you are willing to start fresh and clean.
“I don’t wish to be an alarmist, Mr. Caldwell, but unless you undertake the step soon, it may be too late to ever escape. You aren’t getting any younger, you know. What you can do today, voluntarily, you will be unable to do five, three, or even one year from now. This is perhaps your last chance.”
“I don’t see it, Roberts. Don’t see it at all. You talk as though I were a sick man. Just because I get down in the dumps once in a while, same as everybody else—”
“Are you the same as everybody else, Mr. Caldwell? Can you say that honestly to me, and to yourself? After what we both know about those dreams, about your relations with Eve, about what happened at the fraternity initiation years ago in college—”
“That was an accident!”
“But your impulses, your desires, were not accidental. They were fundamental, implicit in your disorder.”
“You can’t frighten me, Roberts.”
“Please. I’m not trying to frighten you. Have I ever resorted to any mumbo-jumbo or trickery, since the first time you came to me? Have I ever been anything but straightforward and sincere? I haven’t preached or lectured or put on any of the cheap front you despise. I haven’t attempted to delude you in any way. That’s what makes it so hard for me to impress you now. But you must be impressed with the importance, the necessity of taking this step. Or else—”
“Or else what? What are you driving at?”
“There’ll be a psychosomatic reaction, to begin with. The old-fashioned ‘nervous breakdown.’ You’ve seen it happen to others, many times. In your case, with an anal fixation, it will be most painful. And Eve will take over. She’s almost done so already. From what you’ve told me, she’s practically blackmailing you right now, as it is. And suppose your wife were to find out? Suppose something else happens. In your circumstances, it could easily enough. Then what? Do you remember the Arbuckle affair—”
When a fat man trembles, his flesh quivers all over. Acres of gray jelly, quaking and oozing perspiration.
“But what do you want me to do? Suppose I retire, then what?”
“I’m going to take you back forty years. We’ll start all over again. We’ll go back to the time before the initiation and the scandal, before you had to leave school. You know what your ambitions were then. We’ll recapture that personality, make it dominant once more, make a young man of you, a new man.”
“How?”
“I’ll work with you personally. Every day. Oh, nothing spectacular and nothing drastic entailed. You love Marge and the boys—I won’t do anything to affect those feelings. But you must make a major alteration and adjustment. You need help.
“And you can afford it. Even if you weren’t so badly in need of treatment, I’d advise retirement on the general principle that any man who is financially independent should retire from business and begin living. You’ve tried to retreat from life into your work, and it isn’t successful. So now you must retreat from work into life again.”
“So that’s it, eh? I can afford it, you say—meaning here is where you make a killing. Big fees, is that the angle now, Roberts?”
“Please. You’re antagonistic—not to me, but to the truth. You know my fees. Twenty dollars a consultation. That is not exorbitant. I shall not be able to give you more than three sessions a week. Our program will take about a year. Say three thousand dollars, at the most. I assure you I do not need your money, nor would I particularly care to undertake this treatment if the prognosis were not favorable. Besides, frankly, I have a personal interest in your problem, Mr. Caldwell. And you know I can help you.”
“Yes, I do. I’m going to think over what you said, think it over very seriously. It would be worth it, just to get rid of Eve. Do you think—?”
“That you will be strong enough to give her up? Yes, I can definitely promise you that, Mr. Caldwell. Quite definitely. Eve England is on her way out.”
Twelve
There were empty glasses and filled ashtrays all over the small apartment. I could smell scotch and smoke and Tabu and stale food and Lysol—everything but fresh air. Fresh air wouldn’t have suited Eve England, anyway.
I didn’t exactly suit her, either. I sat facing her on the sofa, pretending to examine my drink while I sized up the tall blonde with the brunette’s complexion. Her hair was dark at the roots, her eyes were red at the corners, her mouth was lined at the edges where the lipstick tapered off.
She gave me a look that would have made her a fortune as a glass cutter and said, “Well, now that you’re here, what’s the big idea?”
“No big ideas. Just little ones.”
“Cut the cute stuff. Speak your piece and get out.”
“That’s no way to handle a customer.”
“Say, what is this?” She stood up, bracelets jangling.
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Afraid? Listen, you—”
She began to impugn my character and reputation in rapid, monosyllabic fashion, and that told me all I wanted to know. She was not a clever woman. Just a pushover. And I knew how to handle her. I kept my voice loud, made it harsh.
“You’ve come up in the world, haven’t you? This Caldwell must treat you all right. Of course, he goes for your little tricks. Where’d you pick up those fancy ideas? When you worked Las Vegas?”
Her earrings quivered and danced. “So it’s a shakedown, huh? Well, let me tell you—”
“No. I’ll tell you, instead. This isn’t a shakedown at all, Edith.”
“Eve.”
“Edith Adamowski. You see, I know your name. I know all about you. But don’t get excited. If you want to know who told me, it was Caldwell himself.”
“Caldwell? What kind of a gag is this, anyway?”
I told her what kind of a gag it was. She sat down, after a while, and drank her drink. She even nodded. I went right on talking.
“The important thing is, he doesn’t know anything about it. He mustn’t know. As I told you, he’s willing to pay five grand to get rid of you for good. He thinks he’s a new man, that he can frighten you into it. I advise you to let him do just that. Take the five grand and blow. Then stand by for further orders and maybe you can make more.”
“Well, I dunno. I got a good setup here.”
I walked over to her and sat down. I smiled into her eyes. “Do you mean to tell me you like it?” I asked, softly. “Do you really like it when—”
“Shut up! Don’t talk about it! I hate it. Why do you think I’m on the sauce all the time? He gives me the creeps, but—”
“Then do as I tell you. Take the money and wait for more.”
“How can I be sure you don’t double-cross me?”