Three's a Crowd
Susan sat on the sofa, her glass of red wine beside her. She eyed
it carefully, taking advantage of the fact that Charlie had left to
refill his glass. She needed to make sure that it really was only
half empty. Mama had always said that if wine were to be drunk like
water, people would water gardens with Chardonnay. The glass was
exactly half empty. That was a relief. She couldn't afford to get
even slightly tipsy here.
Charlie was still in the other room. Susan
pulled out her compact mirror checking her reflection. Makeup and
lipstick were still flawless. Mama's hairpin, a blue butterfly with
spirals of yellow stones on each wing, spread itself perfectly over
her right bangs, contrasting beautifully with her dark brown hair.
Everything was as it had been the last three times she had looked at
herself. The first time had been when Charlie had excused himself,
right before dinner and had left her in the living room. The second
time had been at dinner itself, during a lull in the conversation.
Mama would have died, had she'd known. Mama always said that dinner
was for others and not yourself. But Mama hadn't been sitting at
the little dining room table, decked with a double armed candelabra,
each arm hoisting a burning candle into the air and three shining
platters where dinner lay, waiting to be eaten. Charlie had sat
opposite her. In between them had been Simon. Simon had never been at
the table at dinner before. The evening had felt wrong since.
Susan held the mirror to her face, listening for the slightest
sound that would tell her Charlie was coming back. The apartment was
still. She should put the mirror away--what if Charlie suddenly
walked in, cat-like, and saw her staring at herself in the mirror,
enraptured by her own reflection? He'd think she was a stuck-up
bitch. But putting the mirror away would mean facing Simon, now
sitting in the chair opposite her. Better to let Charlie walk in then
to face the silence with Simon.
She shook her head. She couldn't. There was too much of her
mother inside of her. Daughters always become their mothers,
Mama's voice said in her head. Susan took a breath and snapped
the mirror shut.
Simon sat just where Charlie had put him. His blue glass eyes
stared blankly at Susan, his nut-cracker like jaw firmly shut. His
porcelain hands lay atop his lap, clothed in gray trousers to match
the gray Forties suit that he wore, complete with cherry red tie. His
white face, touched with red blush on each cheek, was polished and
shiny and his black hair, solid but slicked back in the style of Cary
Grant, matched his face in its cleanliness and its shine.
Susan shivered, rose from the sofa and moved to the balcony
window. A fifth story view of old downtown spread out below the
window, the lights from the antique street lamps and numerous windows
making believe they were fireflies in summertime. Susan leaned her
head on the window. It was a boring view but anything was preferable
to sitting opposite the dummy. Even with Charlie's annoying habit,
why did it unsettle her this much? It shouldn't have, not after all
this time. It was just an oversized doll made of fancy clay and wood.
"See anything you like?"
She spun around so that her hair made a halo over her shoulders.
Charlie stood by the archway which divided the living room and dining
room, his wine glass, filled to the brim with scarlet liquid, in his
right hand. His left hand was full with a blue ceramic bowl. He
smiled, a flush creeping over his ears. "Sorry," he continued as
he walked deeper into the living room, "I didn't mean to startle
you."
Susan returned the smile, hoping that its flash would distract
Charlie from the sound of her heart, surging with the adrenaline
rush. It pounded in her temples like a bass drum so loudly the
neighbors downstairs had to hear it. "No, not a bit, Charlie. I
couldn't get nervous around you."
"Really? Looks like I'm going to have to try harder or
otherwise they're going to award me a good conduct medal. And then
what am I going to do? Peanuts?" He held out the blue bowl to
Susan. There was a second's hesitation, enough for a draw of
breath. Why did it have to be peanuts? Didn't he remember? Of all
the things to offer after dinner...Her hand reached in and delicately
took a small cluster of peanuts. "Thanks, Charlie. Don't lose
your good conduct medal on my account."
"Well said, young lady." The voice, imbued with New York, noir
and Orson Welles, came from the chair where Simon sat. "I really
don't know why Miss Loy puts up with your stupid and, to be quite
frank, rather crass attempts at humor. If you tried as hard at your
work as you try at comedy, you might have been made a CEO by now."
Suzanne inhaled, sharp and swift. Mama always said not to wear
your emotions on your sleeve but there had to be a time when you
could get rid of the rules. Charlie was doing it again.
"Simon, why don't you read about lumberjacks or something?"
Charlie said. "We're having a conversation."
"Am I not here?" the voice asked, rising from the high chair
back. "Do I not have dimensions and organs with which I can
interject when I see an injustice being committed which would have
Miss Manners blushing in shame?"
Charlie shook his head. "You're not Olivier, Simon. Don't
tread on his toes and everyone will be happier."
Simon snorted, something between a boar and a bull. Susan grasped
her hands behind, squeezing them with all the strength she could
summon so that they wouldn't take a life of their own. She couldn't
let them run wild.
"Olivier wouldn't be able to find Hamlet if Shakespeare was
right in front of him, for your information Charles. Much like you
and a sense of humor."
"Big talk from a guy whose only characteristic is that his name
is bigger than he is. People would have to bring telescopes to find
you if you ever got on stage. I bet--"
"Charlie!"
The name erupted sharp like glass from her lips. It shattered the
routine into a freezing silence. She took and released a breath.
"Please, Charlie. You said that you wouldn't do that while I was
here. You promised the last time. I made you promise."
"Oh. Right." Charlie's face flirted with a shadow, a tug of
war that lasted for a second before the face won and a smile spread
itself over it. "Sorry Susan," he said. "Old habits die hard.
I'll try to do better. Promise. If it happens again, just come
after me again and I'll sulk for a second and then nip it in the
bud. Let's go over to the sofa. We'll be able to see the skyline
better. Maybe even a shooting star. I'll even let you claim it for
a wish."
Susan followed, hands still clasped behind her back. She sat down
stiffly, her back a ramrod to contrast with the sofa, made soft by
years of use. Simon stared at them from the chair, his expression the
same as it had been before. She stared hard at the glassy, blue eyes.
Was there something different there?
"Hey," Charlie said, "are you going to help me eat these
peanuts or not? Cuz' if you let me eat them all, my ears will
probably grow so much they'll name me the ninth wonder of the
universe."
No, there couldn't be anything different about Simon's face.
No one had moved him. But why did the shadows over his face seem
elongated, ever so slightly?
"Either that or I'm going to start running at every squeak I
here."
Could it be the moonlight? Moon shadows changed just like regular
shadows. But the windows weren't in the right place for the moon to
reach the chair.
"Do you like them with the shells or not?"
Simon couldn't have moved. He couldn't of, he was just a
plain, old, stupid dummy; he couldn't have moved and Charlie
couldn't have moved him so it followed...
"Why do I feel like you're on a date with Simon instead of
me?"
Simon's name was a charm, a boulder that broke through the
glass of her concentration. She broke eye contact with the dummy and
turned to Charlie. "What?"
"I said, you disappeared down the rabbit hole, Angel. You left
me all alone."
Susan partially forced a smile and cleared away the threads of
concern in her mind. "I guess I was for a bit." She paused, a
molecule of silence. "Charlie? Could you put Simon away for the
night?"
"Why? It's too early to put him up yet. I've never even
shown you our baseball sketch. It's a riot! Guaranteed to produce
four laughs, seven chuckles and a punchline that'll--"
"Please, Charlie, listen to me!" She could feel her nails
digging into her hands, burrowing desperately to escape from shadows
and glass eyes and routines performed by the most handsome man she
had ever met and Simon Orson Christopher Humphry Coleman, Dummy of
Stage, Screen and Radio. She pushed away the thought of her nails and
the fear that drove them drawing the strength from Charlie's eyes.
Blue eyes; warm eyes; the eyes of a man with life and not a puppet.
She forced her hands to stop as she held Charlie's gaze. "Please
Charlie. I just want to have time with you."
Charlie's eyes flickered, two hummingbirds, for a moment. Then,
a smile--the smile--stretched itself out. It wasn't as luminous
as other times that was obvious. But it was there. That was all that
mattered.
"All right, Angel." He stood up and walked over to the chair.
"Come on, big shot. The lady and I want to be alone." He scooped
Simon up with both hands.
"And if you're alone, who, may I ask, will babysit you?"
The shiny face came alive: the left eyebrow arched with the question
and the wooden hinges of the jaw noiselessly worked and the head
tilted up so that Simon was staring directly into Charlie's eyes.
"The nanny won't be in until tomorrow, you know."
Susan held her breath. It wouldn't last long. Simon was going
for the evening. This was just the last nod to the curtain.
"I've got a guardian angel on my right shoulder, pal,"
Charlie rejoined. "I think that he'll do just fine."
"Hmmm. Seems a rather paltry fellow, if you ask me. He
obviously doesn't get as much exercise as the devil I see on your
left shoulder."
Charlie's left hand sprung up and smothered Simon's mouth. A
few muffled, garbled sounds came out and then Simon was quiet. His
eyes protested silently. "You're not supposed to let Susan know
about the other guy. She's supposed to find out about him on her
own." He walked to the corner of the room where an old leather
footrest, cracked with age and worry, sat alone, clutching at the
darkness around it. "Now it's time for you to disappear. Say
goodnight to Susan."
"Must I? I'm not so sure anymore that I care for Miss Loy.
Demanding that I be sent out of the room when I was holding my peace
very well, thank you very much. Hardly something a lady would do."
"Say goodnight."
A pause stood out in the room. "Goodnight, Miss Loy."
Susan stood up. It was silly but it was automatic. Mama always
said that those we hated most were the ones we were to show the most
kindness. "Goodnight--Simon."
"Be careful, my boy," Simon said, his head twisting back to
look at Charlie. Charlie spread the dummy on the footstool and draped
the moth infested blanket, hiding underneath the stool, over Simon.
There was the breathing of words but Susan couldn't hear them
distinctly. Probably just their sign off.
Charlie returned to the sofa and his hands motioned to Susan. She
sat down next to him, cuddling up against him as much as she dared.
Mama wouldn't approve but Charlie was here and Mama wasn't.
Charlie was here, alone, with her and Simon wasn't. A peaceful balm
of quiet settled over the sofa and the living room. The lights of the
old downtown had even perked and now were glowing with all the
enthusiasm of diamonds, freshly cut and polished and set in earring,
necklaces and rings for royalty and brides to wear. She blushed. It
was too early to think about that. This was only their fourth
official date and they had only known each other for a month. It
seemed shorter and longer than that somehow but calendars didn't
lie. She had had Charlie in her life only for a month. She nestled
closer to him. "What are you thinking, Charlie?"
Charlie wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I wish that Simon
and I could have shown you are finale act. You would have loved it."
Susan felt her brain buzz again with annoyance. He was still
thinking about the dummy and not her? He was holding her now, and not
Simon. Simon was gone and she was the only thing that should matter
to him. She breathed deeply, allowing the air to come in and cool the
fire that threatened to explode from her eyes and mouth. She couldn't
afford that. She couldn't afford to lose him.
"Is that all your thinking about?"
"Did I say the wrong thing?"
"An unexpected thing. Can you only talk about Simon?"
Charlie shook his head, a two note laugh rising from his throat.
"No, I guess I shouldn't. It's just hard sometimes, you know?
When you're together so much, it's hard not to talk about the
other person. For a long time--working on the act, performing, you
know--Simon was about the only other person with me. You're mind
thinks about that other person an awful lot in those sorts of
situations. Old habits die hard, I guess."
"Hmmm. I'll have to try to help you break that habit. I'm
thinking about the first time you saw me. Remember that?"
She could feel Charlie smile, could feel its glow spreading all
over his body and, from it, to her. "Yeah. It was the lunch hour."
"That's right." She tilted her head up so that their eyes
could meet. "I was standing in the window when you looked up and
saw me. Best day of my life."
"That was a good day. I remember you standing there, just
looking all pretty. I was just coming back from the Palladium
Theatre. Simon had asked me to look into it for another performance.
Fred Allen preformed their once, you know. We had thought up a great
act where Simon was going to play the violin and I was going to raze
him about it like Allen did to Benny back in '48 and then we were
going to go back to..."
The fire leapt up into her eyes. Susan could feel its heat in
them and in her mouth. "Yeah," she said, the tremor growing in
her voice. "And the next day, you came by and asked to take me to
lunch."
"That's right. You wanted to go to the Glass House for their
lunch special but I didn't want to. Simon was always telling me
about how great and sophisticated and cultured it was so I knew that
it was going to be filled with a bunch of stuffed shirts."
"Yeah; right. You took me to the Biscuit instead."
"Much better place. Course, Simon didn't agree when I told
him after I dropped you back at the office."
The fire couldn't be contained. "Does everything have to be
about Simon, all the time tonight?"
"Come on, babe," Charlie cooed, "I'm just talking. You
told me I could talk to you about anything, remember?"
"That doesn't give you carte blanche to just gush about that
stupid dummy all the time, even when I'm here and I want you and
your attention."
The smile disappeared from Charlie's face. "You don't like
Simon, Suzan?"
Her breath came hard. He was going to think that she was having
an attack of some time. Mama always said that a girl had to control
her emotions. Had Mama ever had to deal with this though? Mama wasn't
here and she was.
"I...I don't think I care for him very much."
She watched Charlie's face shift and twist itself with shadows,
a chameleon in the dark. She felt her heart race faster. She had hurt
him. Damn it, couldn't he see that she wanted him without Simon?
Why was this s hard for him?
"I mean, I like him in small doses, Charlie. You're so
talented with him and you have a great act. It just gets a little too
much for me to constantly have a show going on when I'm trying to
be with you. Every so often, if you want to bring him out, that's
fine. I'd like that. But I want you. I want you for myself,
Charlie. I want us."
"Every so often?!" Simon's voiced boomed out.
Susan jumped, twisting her eyes to the dark corner of the room
where the outline of the dummy traced itself on the coverlet.
"Simon," Charlie yelled, "she didn't mean it. She really
likes you, you know that. Last time she asked for an encore of our
Double Header routine..."
"Made only to keep you blind as to how she really felt about
me, Charles. Don't be a fool!"
"Charlie!" Susan turned back to look at him. "Why are you
doing this? I'm talking to you!"
"Look, Susan, know that you really didn't mean what
you said. You don't really think that. I mean, you've got a great
deal going on right now. Two great guys for the price of one!"
The tears oozed up from her soul. Susan felt them burn her eyes
and blaze trails of ice and fire down her cheeks. "How can you joke
right now, Charlie? When I feel like this, how can you belittle my
feelings like this..."
Charlie licked his lips. His breath came in short spurts. "Susan,
I know you didn't mean it. Just apologize and everything--"
"Apologize?" Her voice erupted from her throat, raw and
visceral. "I will not apologize to that dummy!"
"You see, Charles!" Simon's voice came again from the dark.
"She doesn't want me to be with you anymore. She'll take me
away from you. She wants to break up the act."
Susan spun, reached the stool in the dark in four bounding steps.
She ripped the coverlet off. Simon lay where Charlie had laid him,
his eyes staring at the ceiling, the shadows playing with his
features. She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, raising him to
eye level. "I told you to shut up!" I love him! He's mine, you
hear me! He's mine!"
"I was here long before you, my dear," Simon said a sneer
covering the words. "I'm the original and you will play by my
rules. By our rules."
"I hate you, you damn son of bitch!" Her arms reacted, fueled
by hatred. Simon flew across the room, his head slamming against the
wall. He crumpled into a heap onto the floor. A silence descended
upon the room. Charlie, his eyes blank, shuffled over to Simon, knelt
down, and cradled the dummy in his arms. Susan stood still, the anger
draining from her body. "I..I'm sorry Charlie," she whispered.
Her legs took her to where Charlie still sat with Simon. Without
thinking, she knelt down and put her arms around his neck. "I'm
sorry Charlie. Please don't hate me. I..I just love you so much. I
know I shouldn't. We've only been dating for a month but I do. I
was just jealous of Simon. I'm silly but I was jealous because I
love you. Please forgive me. Please say it's ok."
"You swore." Charlie's voice came out low and calm.
"What?"
"You swore. When you threw Simon across the room."
"I guess I did. I was so mad for a moment. I shouldn't of.
Mama always told me...
"...a lady who swears isn't much of a lady," Charlie
finished.
The silence returned. Susan took her arms from Charlie's neck.
He continued to sit, the Chinese Buddha. "How did you know that,"
Susan whispered. "I never told you that."
"That is right Miss Loy." Simon's head lolled up. A crack
ran down where his head had slammed against the wall. His blue eyes
locked onto Susan. "I'm afraid you have just demonstrated that
this arrangement is not going to work."
"Simon," Charlie whispered, his eyes downcast. "Please,
don't say that. We can work this. She can improve..."
"Don't be a fool, Charles." Simon's jar snapped with the
force of a nutcracker. "She has demonstrated quite well that she is
unsuitable."
"Unsuitable?" Susan realized that her voice seemed higher
than usual. "Charlie, what are you doing?"
"Please...Simon..."
"Charles, this is not up for discussion. This has to end now. I
insist."
"Charlie, what are you saying? What are you telling me?"
"Ok, Simon." Charlie lowered Simon onto the floor, propping
his back against the wall. His body collapsed onto itself while his
limbs splayed out, an ugly starfish of wood and clay. Charlie sat
still and quiet, his head sunk down to his chest, his body tightly
cocooned into a ball. Susan looked at the two of them, the shrieking
of her nerves growing in strength, the combined screams of a hundred
trains racing against time to the cliff wall that loomed ahead of
them.
"Charlie?" she whispered.
The bigger body started to tremble, ever so slightly, invisible
strings that jiggled to shake the body parts to which they were
attached. A slight sound escaped from the head, a cat's meowling
mixed with mournful snuffling of a dog. Susan scooted closer and
wrapped her arm around his shoulders, her other hand clutching his
which sat knotted and twisted on his knees. She could hear the sobs
now, falling as softly as a December snow.
"Charlie, what's wrong? Come on, speak to me, baby."
A convulsion shook the body before the silent sobs began again.
"I just thought..." a whisper floated toward her.
"What honey? You just thought what?"
"I...I thought that this time was...going to be different. I
thought it was going to work."
Something gripped at Susan's chest, enclosing it in a vise,
suffocating her breathing. A premonition loomed in her mind, black
and grotesque. No, she wouldn't give in to the weakness; she
wouldn't, she couldn't. Mama always said that a lady of character
never let disappointment get her down. A lady had to be strong.
That's what Mama...
Charlie's sobs were choked by a sputtering of low chuckles.
Susan's arm started to unwrap itself from his shoulders, almost
involuntarily. She forced it to stay where it was, as a jealous as a
pride of lions in their kingdom. Every second was gold now.
"Charlie, are you saying that we're..."
The head, still bowed, bobbed. The vise clenched itself tighter
around Susan's chest. She pulled her arms tighter around Charlie
and sank her head down to his shoulders. From somewhere, down in the
darkness, a string of words crawled up.
"...so sure it was going to work."
Susan felt the tears creak out of her eyes. "Me too," she
stammered. "We're going to be ok though. We'll get through
this. And..." she forced the words through the lock f her mouth,
"I'll always be there for you if you need a friend."
Charlie looked up at her, his brilliant eyes filled with tears.
His lips trembled. "No. No you won't."
Susan stared at him though the haze of salty mist. "What do you
mean?"
"Now Charles!" Simon roared. "Do it now!"
Charlie's body unwound itself, a spring released from its cage.
One hand clamped over Susan's mouth and the other shot itself at
her throat. Her eyes bulged out. There was a roaring in her head, a
scream to do something, anything. Her arms and legs took on a life of
their own. She saw them from far away pummel Charlie's head, his
body, his legs--anything and everywhere. They fell onto the floor.
Charlie's legs pinned hers down, his knees bolting her thighs down
to the floor. Her feet kicked to be free. Her eyes locked onto his
face, two paths which her arms used to hit and hit and hit and
hit....The grips didn't loosen...hit and hit and hit...his face
seemed far away...she couldn't give up...he arms patted his
face...couldn't give up...Mama always said something...Charlie's
face disappeared into the mouth f blackness.
Charlie looked down at Susan's body. She almost looked like she
was asleep. Just like in the good movies. His stomach heaved and he
gulped down the air to force the dinner to stay down in the darkness
of his belly.
"Come away, Charles," Simon ordered. "There nothing to look
at anymore. Just a husk and a husk is hardly worth looking at."
Charlie turned, stooped down and picked up Simon, perching him on
the crook of his arm as always. Simon turned his head to Charlie. The
left eyebrow raised again. "Come, come," he chided, "there's
no reason to cry over spilled milk."
"Do you have to talk like that," Charlie whispered through
gritted teeth. "Don't you know how long I worked on this? How
much I hoped for from this one? Where am I now? Square one! Again!"
He threw himself upright onto the sofa, Susan laid out in front of
him like a rug. "What am I going to do now, huh Simon? You're so
smart, you tell me what I do now."
"That should be obvious. Start again."
The tears welled out of Charlie's eyes and fell freely onto his
lap. "I don't want to. I wanted this to be the one."
"She's still out there, waiting for you to find her. And
you're not going to find her unless you make an effort. Which is
why, tomorrow, we're going back. She'll be there."
"I...I don't think that I want..."
"Charles. We're going to go back tomorrow. I won't take no
for an answer."
Breaths, fluttering with the chaos of wounded birds, flew from
Charlie's mouth and sputtered around his head. He nodded.
"Good," Simon said. His head swiveled to the body on the
floor. "We shall have to take that back as well."
"That one didn't work for you either, did it?" The old
woman clicked her teeth together in sympathy.
"No, not really," Charlie said. "I thought that she would.
The profile started off great but the sketch started to resemble
Audrey more than Katherine."
"Well, we'll just have to try again. The fifth time is the
charm, they do say." The old woman picked up the mannequin and
shuffled it back into the corner. On the right side of its head, in
bright blue marker, was drawn a butterfly with yellow spots swirling
in a spiral. The old woman scuttled back behind the counter, sagging
with bundles of rotting magazines and children's books. "Go on up
and find another one deary; you know where they are. Just bring it
down when you're done and we'll get you set up."
Charlie looked at the fifth and latest mannequin, stretched out
in the back of the van. This one had to be the one. Of course, it
would take time to know for sure, but she was going to be a good one.
Jackie was going to be perfect.
She smiled, slow and sensuous, an exotic flower opening itself to
the first rays of the sun. "Hi," she purred. "And what was your
name again, babe?"
Charlie felt the blush rise up to his cheeks. "My name is
Charlie Bergan. And this," he motioned t the back of the van, "is
Simon."
"Miss Welch," Simon said, his voice a kettle drum, "I know
that we are going to get along splendidly."
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