J. Donleavy - Schultz

“I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m merely mentioning. Holy cow. Out of the frying pan and right smack into fucking burning embers.”

“What do you mean by that.”

“Nothing honey. It’s just that I recently escaped out of a horrendously difficult business conference and my mind’s not calmed down yet enough to think straight.”

“Your mind had better start thinking straight in a quick damn hurry I’m telling you.”

“Jesus and I’m telling you not so loud will you, they know me in this place.”

“That’s tough.”

“What the fuck do you want out of me. Jesus I’m bulging out at the temples with troubles.”

“My stomach is bulging.”

“Holy shit don’t start with the tears now too on top of everything. I’m only just emerging from horrorsville. A simple operation that’s all. It would clear everything up. O Jesus come on honey, have mercy will you. Have mercy.”

The tea cup, spoon and saucer in Pricilla’s hand fell splashing into her lap as her head fell backwards and her mouth opened with a groan. The three swarthy gentlemen straightening up in their seats as Schultz leaned forward trying to straighten up this fainted lady.

“Honey, please, please, don’t do this.”

Nearby conversation stilled. Folk turning to look. The three swarthy gentlemen to their feet. Their gold adorned wrists and diamond ringed fingers reaching to assist this lady in distress.

“No help needed. Come on, don’t make a big thing of this. Don’t touch her.”

“As gentlemen we must be of assistance to the lady. We think sir that you have insulted her.”

“Mind your own god damn business will you. Before you get your jaws broken.”

Schultz standing, two fists knotted at his sides. The solicitous expert waiter propping Pricilla’s head up and putting a glass of water to her lips. Her eyes opening wide.

“Where am I. Where am I.”

“At the Dorchester, Madam.”

“Yeah, you’re right here, honey. You’re right here.”

Schultz made his way leading a weeping Pricilla by the elbow across a blazingly colorful carpet. Stopping while a helpful passing concierge picked up his dropped battered top hat from the black and white tiles of the lobby floor. To hand it back to Schultz entering the revolving door. The doorman waving for Schultz’s car parked up on the curb alongside the triangular little garden and lawns with their goldfish pools. Schultz stepping forward on the hotel’s top step, and suddenly yanked back in his tracks. Half his tail coat pulled off down his arm. The other end caught jammed behind in the revolving door. A fur encased fat American lady stuck screaming and fist pounding the other side of the glass.

“Let me out, let me out.”

“What next, christ almighty, what next. There’s some kind of world fucking conspiracy after me. Holy shit, stop lady stop trying to move the doors, will you. You’re dragging me back in.”

“I want out. I want out.”

A detachment of porters rushing to the rescue. The revolving doors reversed and Schultz’s coattail released. A chair was brought to the furry fat American lady for her arse and a glass of water for her nerves. Schultz draping half of his collar attached tail coat over his shirt sleeved arm. The doorman holding open the car door. And Schultz as he bent his head to enter looked up. Pricilla her long curvaceous legs crossed, safely ensconced. A smile now instead of tears on her face.

“That’s what makes you really happy isn’t it honey, anything that makes me look ridiculous.”

The limousine, its tyres whirring around Speakers Corner. Black man up on a ladder slapping his fist on a sign haranging down at a little crowd. Always somebody somewhere complaining.

“Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding.”

“Because honey, it’s just me who is the guy’s friend. And honey for the third time. I’m telling you we can’t go to Arabesque Street.”

“Why.”

“Because we can’t that’s why.”

“Because you have some floozie installed, is that why.”

“No honey, because from the times you’ve been there, the fights, the ambulances, and the damage you done, I’m being sued already for eviction by the landlords trying to make a case out of moral turpitude.”

“I’m not going to damage anything.”

“Holy mackerel. I got a dozen phone calls to make upon which my life depends. Don’t be unreasonable. For just tonight. Let me take you home.”

The blocks of flats, the tall terraces of once upon a time town houses and cream walled hotels facing the park along Bayswater Road. A pub with outdoor tables. A church so peaceful with its tall steeple sitting in a little square. Nothing like a Protestant house of worship in which to take a few minutes’ private sanctuary. I ought to go disappear somewhere in this part of town. Just have a little room. A pot to cook in, one to piss in and a hole maybe in a brass monkey to fuck in.

“My mother’s so right about you. That you’re like a child thinking only of itself. And what you’ve done to me. The cruelty.”

“Done, what for christ’s sake. Cruelty. What are you talking about.”

“Yes. Cruelty. You’re going to drag my name through the Courts.”

“Holy Jesus honey, don’t you get it. If you do something like suing me I’m the defendant. I’m the one with the name dragged through the Courts.”

“And you’ll deserve it.”

“Honey goodbye. Here’s your house.”

“I love you. Don’t you understand that. I love you.”

“You call it love to tear up every damn thing precious to me. Like photographs, valuable invitations.”

“Yes I do. Because I love you.”

“Holy shit. O.K. you love me. O.K. fucking show it to me just once. Just once, that’s all. By being some kind of help to me and stop the tears again. I’ll phone you. Tonight. O god please, stop the sobbing. I mean shit people are stopping to look at us. Would it make you happy honey if I went home and shot out my brains.”

“No.”

“What would make you happy.”

“To get married.”

“Goodbye. I’ll call you.”

Shadows falling, tints of pink on the bottoms of clouds. The limousine saluted as it turned left down the private tree lined road of great embassy houses standing behind their hedges and fences. Curtains drawn on confidential windows. That’s what I need. Diplomatic immunity. Jesus you give a little bit of yourself to a woman and they keep wanting more till they got all of you and then they think you are theirs to kick in the fucking balls. If their foot hasn’t something better to do.

The black Daimler limo pulling up in Arabesque Street. Schultz pressing the switch to lower the glass division between passenger and chauffeur and reaching for his wallet. Digging in the inside pocket of his morning coat draped over his lap. Now shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. And jumping up from the seat and looking around behind him on the upholstery.

“Is something wrong sir.”

“Jesus yeah. I’ve lost my wallet. I was going to give you a tip.”

“Another time sir, no problem.”

“Jesus don’t say those words no problem. All they mean today is some problem.”

“I quite understand sir. I can see you’ve had a full day. If I come across the wallet sir, I’ll see they are right on to you with it.”

“Thanks. Thanks.”

Gathering his tatters together Schultz alighting. The Ambassador’s car parked across the street. Jesus I have a good mind to go over there, ring the bell and beg to become a citizen of Zumzimzamgazi.

Schultz crossing the pavement. And looking up to see a sky blue coated comely figure turning around from knocking on his door. Schultz rushing up the steps. Hurriedly taking a key out of his still intact trouser pocket.