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Authors: William Goldman

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Not that she was about to go anywhere; she was in something, probably shock, and a tremendous number of stitches were needed to close up her arms, which took longer than wished because of the enormous number of glass slivers that were caught in and beneath her skin.

Sally and Phillip began their vigil immediately. They sat with
k
the unconscious body, took occasional strolls down the corridor so Sally could smoke. Phillip had his theories, Which he told Sally. Sally told him his theories were, frankly, horseshit. Phillip, his Linco
ln
ian look getting a bit strained by events, wondered if Sally had any better reasons explaining why Edith Mazursky Holtzman should, one February afternoon, become suicidal in a department store.

#
Sally didn

t.

Edith slept more than a day. Phillip had to leave eventually, not because of business but because he had three girls at home, three teen-age girls at home, and how did you explain to them that this odd event had happened that would probably cloud their lives, probably forever.

Sally thought there were times it wasn

t so terrible being a daughter of Lesbos.


Should I lie to them?

Phillip wondered.


Of course,

Sally said.

You must, since we don

t know what the truth is.

Phillip nodded. He hugged Sally, got up to go. He looked so suddenly withered Sally could only think of the beautiful young girl who had left Shangri-la. He came back eventually, many hours later, stayed as long as he could, then left again, a pattern he continued.

Sally simply moved into the hospital. She kept her gallery closed for the duration, and when she needed toilet articles, she tipped an orderly an obscene amount to dash out to the drugstore. When the nurses tried pulling their official act it was no contest —although not as cute and perky as in her Radclif
f
e days, Sally was still more than presentable, and the combination of her June Allysonish appearance coupled with her sailor

s use of language routed the opposition.

Which is why, when Edith finally opened her eyes the first time, Sally was there. Edith blinked, said nothing. Sally said nothing back. They simply touched fingertips till Edith drifted again. The second awakening was stronger—Edith managed to request food —broth—and got most of it down. The third time she roused herself. Color was returning to her face. Very softly Edith said,

You stayed.


I should think you

d know me by now,

Sally said.

When there

s a major social event,
nothing
will drag me away.

She tried a bright smile.

Edith watched her closely.

Then the brightness left Sally

s face.

I tried,

she managed, shaking her head.

I shouldn

t tell you anything like this; the doctors said you

re not ready.


Tell me what? Is Phillip all right? Are the children?


Worse,

Sally whispered.


What could be worse?

Edith said.

Sally looked straight at her and said it:

Bloomingdale

s canceled your charge card.

Even drugged and in pain, Edith began to laugh.


I fought them, though, Edith—I tried so hard—went all the way to the top—but they said there were strict store rules:

when a customer bleeds on the merchandise, that

s it.



You were always mean, Sally Levinson,

Edith said. And then she drifted.

Later. Edith blinking.

Sally sitting as before.


Still here?

from Edith.

Sally nodded.

They drop the price after six.


I do care for you so.


Love
me so.


Yes.


And I love you and that

s why, my dear Edith, you can rest assured of something.


What?


That no matter what happens, that no matter how many thousands of hours we spend together as the years go by, that under no conditions will I ever bri
ng up what happened in Blooming
dale

s.

Edith nodded.


Edith?


Yes?


What the fuck happened in Bloomingdale

s?

Edith made the saddest smile. And was silent for the longest time. She was tired and her voice was barely audible.

Sally leaned far forward.



control


Edith said. Then she was drifting again.

 

Night now.

What do you think happened?

Edith spoke the words with her eyes closed.

Sally hesitated. She knew Edith more than well enough to know that the question meant that Edith wanted to talk about it, felt strong enough to. Sally told the truth:

Not the foggiest.


And Phillip?

Careful.

What about him?


You must have talked with him.

Easy now.

In generalities, sure.

Did she seem depressed? Was she upset about anything?

But since the answers to all those were

no, not depressed, no, not upset

he

s just as out to lunch as I am.

Edith

s eyes were open now, studying Sally. Sally put her palm up in the air and said what she always did when it was necessary to convince Edith of the truth:

My right hand to God.

Of course, she was lying.

Phillip had an entire scenario worked out, and Sally had told him he was being a goddam fool. But he was not to be shaken.

First of all, the crucifying reviews for her exhibit had rocked Edith much more terribly than she had ever let on.

And second was the business with Doyle Ackerman.

Sally asked who the hell that was.

Phillip reprimanded her for lying—the Yale man, the beautiful swimmer that Edith was in love with, had had the affair with, back in school.

Sally, stunned that Phillip knew a thing about Edith and the swimmer, was even more stunned to find that Phillip had discovered Doyle

s business card and handwritten phone number right at the top of things in Edith

s purse. They were clearly seeing each other, Phillip concluded. And my suspicion is that he discarded her. Being thrown aside by her lover after failing so miserably in her art, that had done the Bloomingdale

s trick.

Sally flailed at him, told him he was full of shit and to shut up.

Phillip, easily the best man Sally had ever known, shook his head; he hadn

t been enough for Edith. If only he

d been a better man somehow, it all might have been avoided.

Sally continued her attack, calling him fucking crazy.

He replied that he was not, but that what had transpired in the store,
that
was crazy.

Sally was forced to nod.

And it
did
happen.

Sally nodded again.

Phillip

s peroration was brief and simple: if it happened, then there must be a reason, and he asked her to come up with a sounder scenario than his.

Sally couldn

t. Only Edith could do that.


I was going to buy Phillip a new red silk tie,

Edith said then.

Among other chores. Items for the girls. So off I went.

Sally sat forward in the hospital chair, tucked her legs up under her.

You walked?

Edith hesitated, then smiled.

That

s right, I remember now, I had a silly moment with a cab. I hailed one and then decided I shouldn

t but by that time he

d stopped and I said something to the effect that it would be better for me if I walked and he looked at me and in that wonderful New York tone the old ones still use, he said,

For this she stops me?

Something like that, anyhow, and I laughed and tipped him and started on my way.


This is sure interesting so far, Edith,

Sally said.

Earthshak-ing stuff.


Just wait. I was walking briskly, not doing much window-shopping—


—do me a favor and spare me the window-shopping details, huh?


Doyle Ackerman,

Edith said then, and she looked at Sally, almost smiling.

Sally said,

That name supposed to mean something?


Just think about it.

Sally hesitated for what she considered a proper amount of time.

The pimple-brained swimmer!

Their voices were a notch higher now; it was as if they were back in school.


The
beautiful
pimple-brained swimmer, if you don

t mind. My single mad passionate affair—the one Phillip never knew about.


You ran into him?


Indeed.


Don

t tell me—he

s lost his hair and got a paunch.


Wrong. More of a dish than ever.


I

m getting horny,

Sally said.

Get on with it.


Well, we had coffee. You remember how he broke my heart.


I was there, tootsie. Remember who nursed you. Now get on with it—you

re having coffee and



It was just so wonderful.


What
was so fucking wonderful?


He
wanted
me, Sally. Middle-aged mother of three, and this perfectly breathtaking specimen was on the prowl.


So you went to his hotel and then what?

Edith shook her head.

Sally, I know this is against all laws of physical science, but his brain has
shrunk.

Sally couldn

t help laughing.


It

s true—I don

t know how he makes it across the street without accident.


You

re telling me you shot him down.


In flames. I played Anna Karenina for my farewell—wasn

t it Anna Karenina?—those long-suffering women get all mixed up for me—

the children, Doyle, we must think of the children

— anyway, out I traipsed. It was glorious.


I don

t believe it,

Sally said.

It

s too perfect—have you got proof?


What kind of proof could I have?


Oh, I don

t know, a picture of him—or his card, maybe, his business card with some kind of message—


He did give me his business card. I stuck it in my purse. He put his phone number on it. I think it

s unlisted.

Sally looked at Edith, slowly shook her head.

That would convince me, I admit it.


Oh dear,

Edith said then.

Sally waited.


Now I have to tell about the control part.

‘‘
Sweetie, you don

t gotta tell nothing you don

t wanna tell. You

re probably tired anyway.


I am tired,

Edith said, her voice softening.


Well, then.


But I
want
to.


Well, then.


And if you

re me, and there

s something you have to tell somebody, who else can that somebody be but you?


Make it brief then, Edith. Just get to it and over with.

Edith shut her eyes for a moment.

You know how important it

s always been to me—probably ever since my father died—to be in control, on top of things.


I

ve heard tell.


Well, I got to Bloomingdale

s a few minutes after leaving Doyle, and I felt so fine I bought myself a present, a scarf, and then I went to the tie department


Now a long pause.

Sally waited.

Edith quietly began to weep.

Sally reached out, took her hand.

Edith turned her head away.

Very sweetly Sally said,

Aw shit now, c

mon.

Edith lay there.

Sally waited.



it was just the worst moment, Sally

it came so fast


Now her voice trailed off.


Can you describe it?


Maybe.


Try.

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