Bruce Wagner - I’m Losing You

“Was…was my father in love with her?”

“I imagine. Such as love is — though I doubt it would have lasted. But what the hell do I know? Maybe they were Tracy and Hep.” She stood, energized again; her mother was always a quick recovery. “Rachel, I have to get back. Why don’t we have a nice dinner over the weekend — we need that. We can go to that fabulous sushi place on Sawtelle.”

“All right, Mama.”

She fell into Calliope’s arms and wept. Mitch was suddenly at the back door, but the psychiatrist sent him away with a shake of the head.

“That was a terrible, terrible time — you’ll never know, darling, you don’t want to. You and Simon were away, remember? I was glad of that. I used to literally thank God for Camp Hillel.”

She stroked her daughter’s head and kissed it. And then she cried and Rachel couldn’t remember seeing that, ever. Her hair was thick and gray; at sixty-seven, she was still a beautiful woman. They strolled to the front door, arm in arm.

“Who was it that told you about your father?”

“A woman I met at a seder.”

“You went to a seder?” She smiled, genuinely surprised.

“At my boss’s.” Rachel wasn’t sure why she lied. “I had to, for business.”

“And who was this woman?” Calliope asked, a paranoid glint in her eye. “Is she talking to people about Sy?”

“Not at all — Mother, it’s nothing like that. It was an isolated event, a weird thing. She didn’t even know who I was.”

“She didn’t know who you were yet ends up telling you your father killed himself. Very mysterious.” Calliope smiled indulgently. There would be no more interrogations, at least not today. “Well,” she said, kissing her daughter again, “you go home and soak — take a bubble bath. I’ll call and we’ll make a time.”

Severin Welch

ESCUELA Rochester is singing “Oh My Papa”—sounds like a buzz saw dying — Benny walks in from rehearsal. Benny keeps saying, “It’s going to be a great show tonight! I think it’s gonna be a great show!” In comes Don Wilson, asks if Hope’s still mad that he makes a late entrance. Benny says Hope’s a little hot under the collar but he’ll get over it. Wilson leaves and Rochester gives Benny a shave. He’s shaving and then he jumps back. “Uh oh, I think I cut you!” Benny says, “What do you mean, you think , can’t you tell ?” Rochester says, “It would help if you’d bleed a little!” Benny hears the orchestra play his theme, but he can’t find his pants. Hope walks onstage — he’s holding Benny’s pants! Looks at the pants and says he’s about to introduce a great entertainer: Gypsy Rose Benny. Says how strange it is working over at CBS—“that stands for Crosby & Benny’s Strong-box”—feels out of place as Zsa Zsa at a PTA meeting. But CBS is right next to the Farmer’s Market, so “you can lay ’em here and sell ’em there.” Holds up the pants again. “Look at that material, ain’t it wonderful? They call it ‘unfinished payments.’” Unfinished payments — that was Severin’s. The whole premise about swiping the pants so Jack couldn’t go on was Severin’s. And the “Road to Nairobi” sketch, with Benny and Hope in a cauldron surrounded by Zulus. There’s a tiger hanging upside-down on a spit. When Hope swivels it around, there’s leopard spots on the other side. Benny says, “The cat must have seen a vet — in Denmark.” Hope says, “I wondered why it had its hand on its hip when I shot it.” All Severin. Hope laughing so hard Severin didn’t think he’d be able to finish. Martin and Lewis lit the cauldron bonfire at the end of the show. Must have been on ten seconds, tops. i’m gonna fuck you up! take you to the

cloisters, CUNT MOTHERFUCKER!

jerome, you didn’t let me explain

explain! you cn explain.

xplain it to th mother fkng emergency room

how there’s a bullet through your mothrfucked

Perry Needham Howe

Rachel found a dealer for the grande complication at the Regency Beverly Wilshire. The fine watch emporium was managed by a suave, self-effacing Frenchman. As things had it, Henri Clotard was a huge fan of Streets . He was very sorry to say there were no Destrieros in the country at this time; he would have to make a few inquiries. Monsieur called the next morning to say he had arranged for a minute repeater to be sent by courier from the East Coast. Since Mr. Howe had never seen one, he thought it would be of interest. Perry went over as soon as the timepiece arrived.

He waited to be buzzed in.

Henri extended a hand, smiling graciously. “What a pleasure it is to meet you! Your kind assistant said you were a prompt man, and on this day I am most grateful, for I have been called away on a minor medical emergency.”

“I’ll come back another time.”

“Nonsense, sir — I would not think of it. You are here and it would be bizarre to send you packing.” He possessed the heightened, anachronistic politesse of a diplomat in a drawing-room farce. “I was fortunate enough to locate a complication here in the United States. Would you care to see it?”

The watch was similar to the Destriero, except its movement was concealed by a solid platinum case (the Destriero’s was see-through). Perry strapped it on, feeling the full weight of its six hundred-some parts — perhaps one got used to the heaviness. The face was elegant, without bejeweled ostentation. To the untrained eye, there was nothing to indicate its worth; that was part of the allure.

“There are complications far plainer than this, sir. Two days ago, I had here an Audemars: one hundred forty thousand dollars. You would really not look twice. And yet, if you buy yourself a ticket to New York next week for the auction at Sotheby’s (you don’t have to fly first class!), you can put your bid on a very simple-looking Patek Philippe, a minute repeater from the year nineteen and thirty. But make sure,” he added, with a showman’s grin, “to have half a millions in your wallet.”

They walked through a catalogue. There were peculiar-looking “jumping hour” models; Reverso Tourbillons; Chronograph Rattrappantes; a Breguet (the premier genius of watchmakers and Marie Antoinette’s favorite) that measured the length of each day as would be shown by a sundial; and the wristwatches of Ulysse Nardin, portable astrolabes reflecting the time and position of the stars all at once, in addition to the month, lengths of day, night and twilight, moon phases, astronomical coordinates and signs of the zodiac. The dials were made of meteorite.