Charles Bukowski - Women

"Oooh," she told him, smiling, "that's good."

I turned to the third race, an affair for 2-year-old maiden colts and geldings. At 5 minutes to post I checked the tote and went to bet. As I walked away I saw the man two rows down turn and begin talking to Katherine. There were at least a dozen of them at the track every day, who told attractive women what big winners they were, hoping that somehow they would end up in bed with them. Maybe they didn't even think that far; maybe they only hoped vaguely for something without being quite sure what it was. They were addled and dizzied, taking the 10-count. Who could hate them? Big winners, but if you watched them bet, they were usually at the 2 dollar window, their shoes down at the heels and their clothing dirty. The lowest of the breed.

I took the even money shot and he won by 6 and paid $4.00. Not much, but I had him ten win. The man turned around and looked at Katherine. "I had it," he told her. "$100 to win."

Katherine didn't answer. She was beginning to understand. Winners didn't shoot off their mouths. They were afraid of getting murdered in the parking lot.

After the fourth race, a $22.80 winner, he turned again and told Katherine, "I had that one, ten across."

She turned away. "His face is yellow, Hank. Did you see his eyes? He's sick."

"He's sick on the dream. We're all sick on the dream, that's why we're out here."

"Hank, let's go."

"All right."

That night she drank half a bottle of red wine, good red wine, and she was sad and quiet. I knew she was connecting me with the racetrack people and the boxing crowd, and it was true, I was with them, I was one of them. Katherine knew that there was something about me that was not wholesome in the sense of wholesome is as wholesome does. I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn't have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. It didn't make for an interesting person. I didn't want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone. On the other hand, when I got drunk I screamed, went crazy, got all out of hand. One kind of behavior didn't fit the other. I didn't care.

The fucking was very good that night, but it was the night I lost her. There was nothing I could do about it. I rolled off and wiped myself on the sheet as she went into the bathroom. Overhead a police helicopter circled over Hollywood.

The next night Bobby and Valerie came over. They had recently moved into my apartment building and now lived across the court. Bobby had on his tight knit shirt. Everything always fitted Bobby perfectly, his pants were snug and just the right length, he wore the right shoes and his hair was styled. Valerie also dressed mod but not quite as consciously. People called them the "Barbie Dolls." Valerie was all right when you got her alone, she was intelligent and very energetic and damned honest. Bobby, too, was more human when he and I were alone, but when a new woman was around he became very dull and obvious. He would direct all his attention and conversation to the woman, as if his very presence was an interesting and marvelous thing, but his conversation became predictable and dull. I wondered how Katherine would handle him.

They sat down. I was in a chair near the window and Valerie sat between Bobby and Katherine on the couch. Bobby began. He bent forward and ignoring Valerie directed his attention to Katherine.

"Do you like Los Angeles?" he asked.

"It's all right," answered Katherine.

"Are you going to stay here much longer?"

"A while longer."

"You're from Texas?"

"Yes."

"Are your parents from Texas?"

"Yes."

"Anything good on t.v. out there?"

"It's about the same."

"I've got an uncle in Texas."

"Oh."

"Yes, he lives in Dallas."

Katherine didn't answer. Then she said, "Excuse me, I'm going to make a sandwich. Does anybody want anything?"

We said we didn't. Katherine got up and went into the kitchen. Bobby got up and followed her. You couldn't quite hear his words, but you could tell that he was asking more questions. Valerie stared at the floor. Katherine and Bobby were in the kitchen a long time. Suddenly Valerie raised her head and began talking to me. She spoke very rapidly and nervously.

"Valerie," I stopped her, "we needn't talk, we don't have to talk."

She put her head down again.

Then I said, "Hey, you guys have been in there a long time. Are you waxing the floor?"

Bobby laughed and began tapping his foot in rhythm on the floor.

Finally Katherine came out followed by Bobby. She walked over to me and showed me her sandwich: peanut butter on cracked wheat with sliced bananas and sesame seeds.

"It looks good," I told her.

She sat down and began eating her sandwich. It became quiet. It remained quiet. Then Bobby said, "Well, I think we'd better go…"

They left. After the door closed Katherine looked at me and said, "Don't think anything, Hank. He was just trying to impress me."

"He's done that with every woman I've known since I've known him."

The phone rang. It was Bobby. "Hey, man, what have you done to my wife?"

"What's the matter?"

"She just sits here, she's completely depressed, she won't talk!"

"I haven't done anything to your wife."

"I don't understand it!"

"Goodnight, Bobby."

I hung up.

"It was Bobby," I told Katherine. "His wife is depressed."

"Really?"

"It seems so."

"Are you sure you don't want a sandwich?"

"Can you make me one just like yours?"

"Oh, yes."

"I'll take it."

Katherine stayed 4 or 5 more days. We had reached the time of the month when it was risky for Katherine to fuck. I couldn't stand rubbers. Katherine got some contraceptive foam. Meanwhile, the police had recovered my Volks. We went down to where it was impounded. It was intact and in good shape except for a dead battery. I had it hauled to a Hollywood garage where they put it in order. After a last goodbye in bed I drove Katherine to the airport in the blue Volks, TRV 469.

It wasn't a happy day for me. We sat not saying much. Then they called her flight and we kissed.

"Hey, they all saw this young girl kissing this old man."

"I don't give a damn…"

Katherine kissed me again.

"You're going to miss your flight," I said.

"Come see me, Hank. I have a nice house. I live alone. Come see me."

"I will."

"Write!"

"I will…"

Katherine walked into the boarding tunnel and was gone.

I walked back to the parking lot, got in the Volks, thinking, I've still got this. What the hell, I haven't lost everything.

It started.

That evening I started drinking. It wasn't going to be easy without Katherine. I found some things she had left behind- earrings, a bracelet.

I've got to get back to the typewriter, I thought. Art takes discipline. Any asshole can chase a skirt. I drank, thinking about it.

At 2:10 am the phone rang. I was drinking my last beer.

"Hello?"

"Hello." It was a woman's voice, a young woman.

"Yes?"

"Are you Henry Chinaski?"

"Yes."

"My girlfriend admires your writing. It's her birthday and I told her I'd phone you. We were surprised to find you in the phonebook."

"I'm listed."

"Well, it's her birthday and I thought it might be nice if we could come to see you."

"All right."

"I told Arlene that you probably had women all over the place."

"I'm a recluse."

"Then it's all right if we come over?"

I gave them the address and directions.

"Only one thing, I'm out of beer."