Эд Макбейн - Mothers and Daughters

Perhaps David grew up the day he typed that memo.

Or perhaps he only lost his innocence.

The Fourth of July fireworks were supposed to start at 9:30 P.M. They had taken the bus to Playland that afternoon and spent the day on the rides and at the various gambling booths. There was only one thing on Gillian’s mind. She tried to enjoy what they were doing, but there was only one thing on her mind, and each time she moved away from the thought it returned until she forcibly ejected it, and then stubbornly returned again. Distressed, she tried to talk of other things.

“There’s a party Saturday night,” she said. “We’re invited.”

“Oh?” David said. “Who? Where?”

“John Dimitri, you remember him.”

“Tall thin guy with blond hair? East Thirty-sixth Street?”

“That’s right.”

“What kind of a party?”

“The same kind he always gives,” Gillian said. “You bring the booze, and I’ll supply the records and potato chips.”

“Should we go?”

“If you like.”

“Whatever you say,” David answered.

The thought persisted. She could not shake it from her mind. They leaned against the railing overlooking the Sound, waiting for the fireworks to start. There was the hush of expectation in the crowd around them. David stood behind her, his arms circling her waist. She looked out over the water to the spit of land where she could see men moving about with flares, preparatory to starting the show. She said, “Do you remember Michael Scanlon?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It was a while back. Marian called me about this pilot he was firming in the Bahamas.”

“What about him?” David asked.

This is not the right time, Gillian thought. This is not the right place. Showdowns should be played on the main street, in bright sunlight, with dust rising and the town still.

“He called Marian today.”

“Yes?”

This is neither the time nor the place, she thought.

“He’s finished the pilot and sold it. NBC’s doing it in the fall.”

“Good,” David said.

She hesitated. There was a deep silence. A rocket suddenly shot into the sky, exploded in an incandescent blue, which tinted the water. The crowd went “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” She turned in David’s arms.

“They get better as they go along,” he said.

“He still wants me for the part, David.”

“Huh? What part?”

“The girl trouble-shooter.”

“Really?” David said. “That’s great, Gillian. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Another rocket went into the sky. It burst in a flash of red, exploded, another flash of yellow, another explosion. “Ahhhhh!” and “Ahhhhh!” the crowd went.

“Because he’s shooting the series in Bimini.”

“Bimini,” David repeated blankly.

Silver fishes filled the sky, darting aimlessly against the black wheel of night.

“Yes.”

“Well...” David paused. A white-hot flare went off over the Sound, illuminating his face. It fell suddenly, and his features were in shadow again. She tried to see his eyes. “Well, are you going to take it?”

“Bimini is a long way off, David.”

He nodded.

“Should I take it, David?”

“That’s up to you.”

“No, not entirely.”

“Is it a good part?”

“It’s an excellent part.”

“Who’s filming it?”

“Revue. That’s MCA, David. It’s going to be a big series. Nothing like it has ever been done on television. I couldn’t ask for a better showcase.”

“Well, it’s up to you, Gilly. Wow, look at that one!”

The triple explosion rocked the night, red and yellow and blue trailing to earth in a dissipating stream of sparks.

“David, it’s not up to me,” she said sharply.

“What’s the matter?”

“I want to talk about this.”

“We are talking about it.”

“Not here. Not with all these people.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t feel like discussing something as personal as this in front of a thousand people watching fireworks.”

“What’s so personal about a television series? It seems to me—”

“David!” she said sharply, and he looked into her face and saw the anger there, and nodded, and took her hand, and led her through the crowd. The amusement park was almost deserted. Everyone was down by the waterfront, watching the fireworks. The music of the merry-go-round filled the night, and behind it, like a syncopated counterpoint, the intermittent sound of the explosions and the deep sighs of the crowd.

“Do you want to go?” he asked.

“Yes. I want to go.”

“Then there’s nothing to—”

“But I also want to stay.”

David smiled. “Did you ever get the feeling that you wanted to go, and still have—”

“I don’t think it’s funny, David.”

“What do you want me to say, Gillian?”

“Are you going to keep this job with Curt?”

“I think so. Yes.”

“You’re happy with it?”

“Yes, I am. I like television. I like what I’m doing.”

“You’re earning two hundred dollars a week, David.”

“I know I am.”

“Do I have to ask you? ”

“Ask me what?”

Gillian sighed.

“David,” she said, “I’ve been waiting for something like this for a long, long time. I’ve turned down a lot of offers in the past two years because I didn’t want to be away from you. I thought... I thought you needed me. So I stayed. But this is important, David. This one could just possibly lead to something. I want to be an actress, David. You know that’s what I want. And if there’s even a small chance of—”

“Then take it,” David said.

“No, let me finish. Please.” She hesitated. “I want to be an actress more than almost anything else in the world. I’ve wanted to be an actress for as long as I can remember. There’s only one thing I want more than that, David.”

“What?”

“You.”

“You’ve got me.”

“No, David. I haven’t got you.”

“Look, Gilly...”

“ You’ve got me . But I’m not sure the reverse is true.”

“You know I love you.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“So...”

“David, will you marry me?”

There was a deep silence. They walked beneath the arching branches of the trees. The calliope music was behind them now. A few lovers exchanged kisses on the benches lining the walk. A skyrocket exploded over the water, its sound muffled and distant.

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s what I want.”

“You’re not... you know... it’s not that you’re...”

“No. You don’t have to marry me, David.”

“I see.”

“But, David, I’m not staying in New York unless we do get married.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s the way I want it.”

“Doesn’t what I want count at all?”

“David, you’ve had everything you wanted.”

“I thought you loved me, Gillian.”

“Oh, David, you don’t know how much!”

“Then what’s this offended-virgin routine? I thought—”

“I’m not offended, and God knows I’m not virginal, but—”

“Are you throwing that up to me now?”

“No, David,” she said softly.

“All right, now let’s take it easy, Gillian, before we both say things we’ll be sorry for, okay? Please.” He paused. “I know this Bahamas thing is important. I can understand that. And I can see how it puts a certain amount of pressure on... on... but, well, what’s the sense of rushing into anything?”

“Rushing, David?”

“I’m just getting started,” he said plaintively. “I could lose this job tomorrow, Gillian.”