Stephen Dixon - Time to Go

“In a second, love,” Regina says. They all come into the bedroom. Georgia and Regina sit on opposite sides of me on the floor — Georgia, as she likes to do, with her arm around my waist and fingers tucked into my belt, Regina with her head on my lap. Jimmy and Rose sit in front of us holding up Laurel, who’s too young to stand on her own yet.

“I don’t like this program,” Jimmy says. “Too gory.”

“Neither do I,” I say and I reach over the heads of the children.

But the television’s a remote control unit and I can’t find the little command box to shut it off or lower the sound.

Goodbye,” and she goes. I stay there, holding the gift I was about to give her. Had told her I was giving her. This afternoon, on the phone. I said “I’d like to come over with something for you.” She said “How come?” I said “Your birthday.” She said “You know I don’t like to be reminded of those, but come ahead if you want, around seven, okay?” I came. She answered the door. From the door I could see a man sitting on a couch in the living room. She said “Come in.” I came in, gave her my coat, had the gift in a shopping bag the woman’s store had put it in. “I have a friend here, I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “Me? Mind? Don’t be silly — but how good a friend?” “My business,” she said, “do you mind?” “No, of course not, why should I? Because you’re right, it is your business.” We went into the living room. The man got up. “Don’t get up,” I said. “It’s no bother,” he said. “How do you do? Mike Sliven,” and he stuck out his hand. “Jules Dorsey,” and I stuck out mine. “Like a drink, Jules?” she said, as we shook hands, and I said “Yes, what do you have?” “Beer, wine, a little brandy, but I’d like to save that if you don’t mind.” “Why should I mind? Though something hard is what I think I’d like. Beer.” “Light or dark?” she said. “Whatever you have most of,” I said. “I have six-packs of both.” “Then…dark,” I said. “I feel like a dark. Suddenly I feel very dark. Only kidding, of course,” I said to Mike and then turned to her so she’d also see I was only kidding. She went to the kitchen. Mike said “Now I remember your name. Arlene’s spoken of you.” “I’m sure she had only the very best things to say of me too.” “She did and she didn’t,” he said, “but you’re kidding again, no doubt,” “Oh, I’m kidding, all right, or maybe I’m not. Say, who the hell are you anyway and what the hell you doing here? I thought Arlene was still only seeing me,” and I grabbed him off the couch. He was much bigger than I, but didn’t protest. “Where’s your coat and hat?” I said and he said “I didn’t come with a hat and my coat’s over there, in the closet.” “Then we’re going to get it and you’re going to leave with it,” I clutched his elbow and started walking him to the closet. Arlene came into the living room and said “Jules, what are you doing? — and where are you going, Mike?” “I think out,” he said. “Out,” I said. “I came over to give you a gift and take you to dinner for your birthday and later to spend the night with you here or at my place or even at a great hotel if you wish, and goddamnit that’s what I’m going to do,” “What is it with you, Jules? — I’ve never heard you talk like that before.” “Do you mind?” I said. “No, I kind of like it. And Mike. Are you going to leave when someone tells you to, just like that?” “I think I have to,” he said, “since if there’s one thing I don’t like to do in life it’s to get into or even put up a fight, especially when I see there’s no chance of winning it.” I opened the closet. He got his coat. I opened the front door and he left. I locked the door. Bolted it, just in case he already had the keys. Then I turned around. Arlene was standing in the living room holding my glass of beer. She came into the foyer with it. I didn’t move, just let her come. “You still want this?” she said. “No, the cognac,” I said. “It’s brandy but good imported brandy,” “Then the brandy,” I said. “How do you want it?” “With ice.” “Coming right up,” and she went back to the kitchen. I followed her. She was reaching for the brandy on a cupboard shelf above her, had her back to me. I got up behind her — she didn’t seem to know I was there — put my arms around her, pressed into her. She turned her head around, kissed me. We kissed. I started to undress her right there.

That’s not the way it happened, of course. The way it happened was like this. I did come over with a gift, it wasn’t her birthday, a man named Mike was there when I thought she’d be alone, she said he was a good friend, “in fact, the man I’m sleeping with now,” “Oh,” I said. “Well, I still have this gift for you so you might as well take it,” She said “Really, it wouldn’t be fair.” Mike came into the foyer, introduced himself. “Mike Ivory,” he said. “Jules Dorsey,” I said. “Maybe I shouldn’t stay.” “No, Jules, come in and have a drink. What’ll you have?” “What do you got?” I said. “I don’t know. What do we have?” he said to Arlene. She said “Beer — light and dark — wine — red and white — scotch, vodka, rye, bourbon, gin, brandy and I think a little of that cognac left, and all the mixers to go with them, besides other nonalcoholic stuff if you’re suddenly into that.” “Come on, Jules drinks his share,” Mike said, “or at least will with us here.” “I drink, all right,” I said, “though not that much. But tonight I’d like a double of that cognac you said you have, if you’ve enough for a double.” “Why not — right, Arlene? Want me to get it?” “It’s okay, I’ll get it,” she said, “but what’s a double?” “Just double whatever you normally pour,” he said. “If there’s so little in the bottle that you don’t have enough to double what you normally pour, empty the whole thing in his glass.” “I just usually pour, I don’t know how much,” she said. “So do it that way,” he said, “but double it.” “Fill half a regular juice glass,” I said, “and then put some ice in it, if you don’t mind?” “Ice in one of the best cognacs there is?” he said. “No way, sir. Sorry.” “Then make it your worst cognac,” I said, “but ice in it, please. I feel like a cognac and I feel like a double and I feel like I want that double cognac ice-cold.” “Sorry — really,” he said. “We only have one cognac and it’s one of the rarest there is. Gin, vodka, bourbon, scotch, even the beer, light or dark, I’ll put ice in for you, and the wine, either one, too. But not that cognac or even the brandy. They’re both too good. I’m telling you the truth when I say I couldn’t sleep right tonight if I knew I was instrumental or helpful in any way or even allowed it, just stood by and allowed ice in cognac or brandy when I knew just by saying something I might be able to stop it.” “Listen, you,” I said and grabbed his neck with one hand. He swung at me. I ducked and hit him in the stomach, he fell forward and I clipped him on the back. He went down. I put my foot under his chest and nudged him with it and he turned himself over on his back. I looked at Arlene. Her hands covered her eyes but she seemed to be peeking through the finger cracks. I said to Mike “Probably Arlene won’t like this but I’m going to give you to ten to get your coat and hat and—” “I didn’t come with a coat and hat,” he said. “Then ten just to get the hell out of here.” “Jules, this is awful,” Arlene said, not looking alarmed or frightened or really upset or anything like that. “I don’t care. It’s what I suddenly felt like doing even if I didn’t feel that right about doing it so that’s what I did. Now get, buddy,” I said to Mike. “One, two, three…” He got up, held his stomach as he went to the front door. By the count of eight he was out of the apartment. She said “I hate when anyone does that to people, but I think deep inside I loved it when you did it to him. Not because it was Mike. He’s very nice. It’s just that you were, well — I’ve never seen you like that before. I don’t know what that makes me, but come here, you rat.” I came to her. She mussed my hair, with her other hand slipped off one and then the other of her shoes. “Shall we do it here or in the bedroom?” “Here,” I said, “or the opening part of it, but first let me lock the front door.”