Woman (11 page)

     He stopped abruptly, looking
alarmed now.
"What the fuck is going on?"
he asked.

     David looked at him
uneasily, then glanced at Ganine, but she looked as taken back as any of them
were. Barbara's expression made it clear that she thought Val was attempting a
poorly done gag. Liz's look indicated that she was inclined to agree with
Barbara—except that Val looked genuinely upset by what was happening. Max sat
slumped on his chair, wincing slightly.

     "Val, come on,"
Liz began.

     "Come on, shit!"
he stormed at her. "I didn't say that!"

     "Didn't say
what?"
she asked.

     Val's voice overlapped hers.
"Just. . .shut up, will you? Shut up." He forced himself to continue,
his features tight with concentration. "Aye, there's the
rub.
For in that sleep of death, you have
bad breath—"

     He shook himself
spasmodically and started in again before anyone could speak. "For in that
sleep of death, what dreams may come when we have shuffled off to Buffalo.

     
God
damn it!"

     "Forget it, Val, we
have to leave," Liz said.

     "No, I won't forget
it!" He was totally enraged now. "Just shut up!"

     None of them knew how to
react. Val was obviously rattled and infuriated by it as he set himself to
finish the soliloquy no matter what.

     His loss of control mounted
steadily as he spoke. "When we have shuffled off to—this mortal coil must
give us pause, the pause that refreshes—
must give us
pause.
There's the respect that makes. . .makes. .
.calamity, Howdy Calamity, it's me, Wild Bill."

     Val's eyes were wild now,
his expression that of a man struggling against impending madness.
"Calamity of such a. . .such a. . .
Damn it!
Such a long life, long life, long, long, long, long, long life,
God damn!"

     "Val,
stop,"
Liz said.

     "Val, you'd
better." David added.

     Val went on as though no one
had spoken, his voice tense and menacing. "For who would bear the whips
and— scorns, whip me, baby, let me have it." His teeth clicked together.
"I didn't say that," he forced himself on, "the whips and
scorns, the warts and corns, no! Whips and scorns! Oppressions, wrong. Pangs
of—laws delay—office — spurns—burns—urns—ferns—terns—turds, words, curds,
birds,
God damn it to fucking goddamn hell!"

     He shuddered violently and
released a wracking sob. Liz jumped up and tried to take his arm but he threw
off her grip and lurched for the hallway. David stood and moved to grab him but
Val was already at the door. Liz screamed his name as he flung open the hall
door so violently that it crashed against the wall, knocking down two pictures.

     Liz and David hurried after
him. Candy struggled to her feet, looking confused and alarmed. She ran into
the bedroom to get her jacket. Barbara sat immobile, staring in amazement
toward the open doorway. Max stood slowly, weavingly, a strained expression on
his face.

     "Maybe we should
help." Barbara said.

     
"How
for Chrissake?" Max murmured.

     Candy came running back,
carrying her jacket. As she hurried toward the doorway, she pulled on the jacket.
The instant she did, she cried out in terrified revulsion, thrashed about for
several moments, then tore off the jacket and slung it to the floor, a gagging
sound in her throat. Max and Barbara gaped at her as though she'd suddenly gone
insane. Barbara stood on trembling legs.
"What's
wrong?"
she asked.

     "I don't know,"
Candy told her, starting to cry. "I just— I just-Oh,
God!"

     Barbara picked up the
jacket. "You want to put it on?" she asked.

     "
No!
" Candy looked repelled. She
looked at the jacket Barbara held. She didn't want to touch it but was unable
to leave without it. Moving abruptly to Barbara, she grabbed the jacket
compulsively and ran from the apartment.

     "Jesus Christ,"
Max said.

     "What the hell is going
on?" Barbara asked.

     Liz came back in closing the
hall door, a distraught look on her face. "What was
that!"
she asked, gesturing toward
the door. "She went running by me as though she'd seen a ghost.

     "No idea," Barbara
said. "She went ballistic when she put her jacket on; she tore it off and
wouldn't put it on again, then just grabbed it and ran. What's with Val?"

     "I have no idea about
him
either," Liz said. "He
seemed to go ballistic too."

     "Is David with
him?" Barbara asked.

     "I guess he's going to
drive Val home. He'll never make the awards. I doubt if any of us will. The
limo's still waiting for us but—" She shrugged, sighing, disgustedly.
"What a fucking night."

     She and Barbara looked at
Ganine. She still sat in her chair, expressionless.

     Barbara was about to say
something when the bathroomdoor opened and Charlie came out. They all caught
their breath. He looked ashen and infirm.

     "What's wrong,
Charlie?" Liz asked.

     He didn't speak at first.
Then he said, "I think—"

     He was unable to finish. . .
Suddenly, he gagged and clapped his right hand over his mouth. They gasped as
blood began to spurt between his fingers. He staggered forward with a choking
sound. Liz moved quickly to assist him but, before she could reach him, Charlie
stumbled and collapsed, a hoarse cry in his throat. Liz cried his name and
kneeled beside him. He was already unconscious, bleeding from the mouth.

     
"Jesus
Christ, what's going on?"
Max said. He sounded
frightened now too.

     Suddenly, simultaneously,
Barbara and Liz looked at Ganine, their expressions equally suspicious and
uneasy. Ganine was motionless, pushed back against the chair cushion, staring
at Charlie.

     On her face, a look of
abject terror.

FRIDAY

StationKBNY. Doctor David Harper:
Candidly Speaking.
How can I help you?

     Doctor, you said that
woman's lib is failing. I'd like to know what you see as a result of this.

     I haven't any simple answer
for that, I'm afraid. In nineteen sixty-eight, however—
sixty-eight,
mind you—in the American
Journal of Psychotherapy, Doctor Natalie Shainess wrote that women are losing
contact with their inner selves and, as a consequence of this, becoming
increasingly alienated from meaningful life. Unhappily, this alienation
persists today. More than persists, grows more extreme each year.

     Expressing itself in what
way, Doctor?

     For one thing, women seem to
be putting sex out of theirminds or turning to other women for it.

     That startles me, Doctor. Is
that, statistically, correct?

     It is. And this widespread
increase of bisexuality and lesbianism could be the forefront of a coming
insurgence, women turning away from men in every way, tired of living on men's
terms. Simply stated, women are sick and tired of being what men want them to
be. They want to be what
they
want to be.

     You worry me, Doctor. Are
there any other signs of this insurgence?