J. Donleavy - Schultz

“Jesus.”

“Mr. Schultz.”

“Roxana. What are you doing here.”

“I am in London.”

“I can see that.”

“For his Lordship’s wedding. And the staff party. I took the liberty of thinking what harm would there be to call on you as you suggested.”

“O boy.”

“I hope I am not a problem arriving at an inconvenient time. But of course I will go. I did ring but the phone just kept clicking off. I’ll come and see you another time.”

“No don’t go. Stay. Come on, come in.”

“Thank you. But I hope you’re not just being polite. I just have been walking. I knocked earlier but no answer.”

“Well as you can see, I’m a little messed up. Jesus come in. So I can close the door.”

“I really think perhaps I am disturbing you.”

“No problem. I mean, no difficulty, really come in.”

Roxana shyly entering, standing aside as Schultz quietly closed and bolted the door. The telephone ringing. The door at the end of the hall opening. A honey blond head peeking out.

“Hey Roxana just go sit in there a second. And be right with you. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I’ll just close the door.”

Schultz taking up the talking instrument and with his hand over the speaker turning to Greta.

“Greta, hey just go back down the kitchen will you, be right with you. I mean it. I’ll be just a second.”

The sullen face of Greta disappearing. Schultz listening to her steps down the stairs and to the kitchen door shaking the house as it was slammed closed and tinkled the crystal chandelier above his head. Jesus if I could only charm this instrument to bring me some good news and tidings. It’s got to be, it’s just got to be once that Hollywood is ringing one of these days.

“Hello.”

“Sigmund.”

“Not you Al.”

“What do you mean not me. I’ll hang up if that’s what you got to say.”

“Sorry Al, but I’ve just been through a day to remember.”

“Well I got somethisg else will make you remember today.”

“Jesus don’t tell me Al. I think I’m getting ulcers or something.”

“How did the meeting go.”

“It went O.K. It had its low moments too.”

“What answer is that.”

“You know Al, I mean it was fine.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“I took her home, Al she was tired.”

“You took her home.”

“Yeah Al, what’s so strange about that.”

“She could rest in your place with someone concerned to look after her. The beginning of pregnancy is tiring.”

“I’m glad you told me that Al.”

“I can tell by the tone of your voice you don’t mean one damn word you’re saying.”

“Come on Al, Jesus come on. It’s a mirade after today I even have a tone of voice.”

“Well you listen to my voice a second. I got you sixty thousand plus overcall.”

“Come on Al, Jesus come on. It’s a miracle after sixty thousand like that in twenty four hours.”

“You want it or not.”

“Jesus Al, of course I want it.”

“So don’t ask me how. Just agree I got it.”

“Hey Jesus Al you’re now talking about a life and death matter, I don’t need kidding.”

“It’s no kidding. And tomorrow by two o’clock I guarantee Magillacurdy, maybe a little bit more expensive than I promised, but on a straight salary. Now. You tell me something. When is the wedding day.”

“That’s fucking blackmail Al, that’s fucking blackmail.”

“I’m going to ask you once more, nice and quiet and calm. When is the wedding day.”

“Don’t do this to me Al don’t do it. What are you. A marriage broker or something bringing people together by torture.”

“I’m a humanitarian who believes in brotherly love. And so for the third and for the very last time, when is the wedding day.”

“I wouldn’t do this kind of thing to my worst enemy. Jesus christ Al. This is human beings’ lives you’re talking about. What the fuck do you want to do a criminal thing like this to me for.”

“Because sometimes Sigmund you’re a real shit of the lowest kind.”

“I’m a real shit, Al. Holy shit could it ever be Al, that maybe it’s you who is the real shit. I think you want to make her your mistress later, with me meanwhile minding her for you in an unhappy marriage.”

“Goodbye.”

“Wait.”

“For why should I wait.”

“For me to think a second, that’s why. You call up. You put a gun to my head trying to blast me into the biggest mistake of my life.”

“You call sixty thousand pounds a gun blasting.”

“I do Al when it could be what ends my life.”

“Settling down into marriage will begin your life and do you a lot of good.”

“Why Al, why.”

“Because it’s a natural condition in a stable society.”

“You should know shouldn’t you Al, after three divorces.”

“I loved and was happy with all my former wives. Who still remain dear friends.”

“Well the wife you’re picking out for me is already an enemy, suing, harassing and embarrassing. She’s the type of woman who after two weeks living with her will bore the shit out of me. What do I talk to her about in my old age. We have nothing in common.”

“What are you. Some kind of special big profound thinker or something. That kid is as smart as she is beautiful and will give you a lesson in brains anytime.”

“She’s given me a lesson Al. In fucking brain damage.”

“Which by the way is getting more noticeable with you every day, Sigmund. Learn to play checkers together in your old age if you’re so worried about conversation. Also think of yourself someday decrepit in a lonely house with your balls shrivelled, and no one like a young beautiful woman to look after you.”

“I grow old Al and she stays young and beautiful.”

“That’s right.”

“Thanks for the nice arrangement. But at the moment I’m not yet with both feet in the grave and my balls are not shrivelled and I am not living in a lonely house.”

“What you got somebody there.”

“No Al, it just so happens I haven’t.”

“Well you heard me. Sixty thousand is yours. The moment you sign the marriage register or whatever they do over here in England to make it legally final. Now goodbye.”

Schultz replacing the receiver. Right down smack on a bundle of money the other end of the wire. What the fuck. I could marry something worse than her incredible body and good looks. But Jesus I see a ring go silently on her finger and I hear a deafening clank of chains in my brain. I need a sedative.

Schultz halfway up the stairs to the bathroom. Stopping in his tracks and slapping his palm against his brow. Holy shit. His Lordship’s chambermaid down in the living room. I completely forgot. Not surprising after a day with a pair of sex maniacs trying to bugger me.

Schultz turning on the landing. Give a pat on the head to Justinian and tiptoe back down into the hall. To push open the door. Roxana demurely seated, a magazine featuring nude ladies held open across her lap. Which she closed as she stood up.

“Jesus, don’t stand, this isn’t his Lordship’s here. I’m just going to change my clothes O.K.”

“Can I be of any help, sir. I mean Mr. Schultz.”

“Sigmund, honey, call me Sigmund.”

“His Lordship would be aggrieved to hear me address his friends by the familiarity of their Christian names.”

“You leave his Lordship to me. This is a changing god damn society. People are getting more equal by the minute. You got to get rid of his Lordship’s primitive ideas.”

Schultz in a light blue checked shirt, navy blue sweater and green corduroy trousers heading down into the oven warmed kitchen. Greta, sleeves pushed up her tan arms, pressing a fork around the edge of a pie crust as she turned it in a circle on the kitchen table. She’s wearing one of my shirts, one of my sweaters and even a pair of my trousers. And all of them look ten times better on her than they do on me.