Reunion and Dark Pony (2 page)

BERNIE
: You told me. How old?

CAROL
: Twelve and eight. Boys.

BERNIE
: How are they?

CAROL
: They're good boys.

BERNIE
: You like ‘em?

CAROL
: We get along.

BERNIE
: They like you?

CAROL
: You know how it is.

BERNIE
: Their other mother died?

CAROL
: Divorced.

BERNIE
: . . . I like him, Gerry. He seems like an all right guy.

A thoughtful guy. . . .

Jesus, he gave me a moment, though.

I come into the restaurant and Frank—Frank's the owner—he says, “Bernie, there's a guy outside askin for Butch Cary.”

Now, I haven't called myself Butch since I'm on the wagon, three years.

I was called Butch from the days in the Air Corps, and all my old drunk partners know me as Butch. So. I figure it's some old acquaintance looking for a handout, or a bill collector. Because he called me Butch.

So I peek out the kitchen door and there's this real nice-looking guy around forty—what am I telling you what he looks like—

Anyway, it's obvious he's not a bill collector, and
he's not looking for a handout, and I don't know him from Adam.

So I get out of the kitchen—he probably told you this stuff—

I still got my coat on ‘cause I just walked in the back door . . .

I guess I looked kind of suspicious—who wouldn't—and I go over to him and he says, “Are you Butch Cary?”

And I say, “Yeah, who are you?”

He says, “I'm Gerry Mindler. I'm Carol's husband. Your daughter.”

I told him I know who my daughter is.

I told him, “Mister, I am one tough sonofabitch, but I'll be goddamned if I don't feel like I'm gonna bust out crying.”

And I almost did.

Scene IV

BERNIE
: You got a brother you never met, you know, a half-brother. Marty.

My and Ruth's kid. Ruth, my second wife. You could call her your stepmother . . . if it made any sense.

I know your mother had another daughter.

CAROL
: Barbara.

BERNIE
: I know.

CAROL
: We're very close.

BERNIE
: I don't doubt it.

CAROL
: We are.

BERNIE
: Marty. You'd like him.

CAROL
: How is he?

BERNIE
: I haven't seen him now in several years. He's say three years younger than you. He's a good kid.

CAROL
: What does he do?

BERNIE
: Do?

The last time I heard—and this might of changed—nothing.

CAROL
: What was Ruth like?

BERNIE
: Like your mother, I'm sorry to say.

Not that she wasn't a lovely woman.

And not that your . . .

CAROL
: . . . It's okay.

BERNIE
: Anyway, we didn't get along too long. And your mother was not such a hotshot either, to get down to it.

Ruth never understood me. I take it back, she understood me. When Marty was young. We got along.

CAROL
: And then?

BERNIE
: I left her. These things happen.

But, Jesus, he was a fine little kid.

Having kids, Carol, is something no one can describe.

Having your own kids is . . . indescribable.

I mean it.

You were quite a little kid.

We used to have a good time.

Going to the zoo . . .

Do you remember that? Do you remember what you used to say when I came home?

Three years old?

I'd come in the door.

You'd say: “Hi there, Pop!”

I don't know where you picked that up. I guess your mother used to coach you.

Do you remember that?

Do you remember going to the Science Museum?

We used to be over there every week. See the locomotive . . .

The steam engines, you remember that?

You were a beautiful kid.

You were everything to your mother and me.

I still got the pictures.

You want to see how cute you were? You wait here.

Just sit there.

You know who took those? Alex took those at his house . . .

Fourth of July 1950. It was the first year he had his new house.

You probably don't remember.

Took them with his Brownie.

You were crying for some reason, and I said, “Look
at the camera, baby. . . .” I'll be goddamned if I know where those pictures are.

CAROL
: It's okay.

BERNIE
: They're around here somewhere.

CAROL
: It's okay, Bernie.

BERNIE
: But where can they be?

I look at ‘em constantly. . . .

You want some coffee?

CAROL
: No, thanks.

BERNIE
: You smoke too much.

CAROL
: I know it.

BERNIE
: Your husband smoke?

CAROL
: Yes.

BERNIE
: Does he tell you to cut down?

CAROL
: Yes.

BERNIE
: They're no good for you.

CAROL
: I know.

BERNIE
: He should set an example.

CAROL
: He's my husband, Bernie, not my father.

BERNIE
: I don't smoke.

I gave it up.

When I went on the wagon.

Did I tell you I'm thinking about getting married again?

CAROL
: No.

BERNIE
: It's not definite. Not yet.

I'm just thinking.

Leslie. She works at the restaurant. Gerry met her.

CAROL
: Tell me about her.

BERNIE
: . . . She knows me. I know her.

I respect her.

She's a good worker, she knows my past.

I think she loves me. She's about forty. . . .

Was married once.

It's like a habit.

How would you, you know . . . feel if I got married again?

Would that . . . do anything to you?

I realize you don't have a long basis for comparison.

CAROL
: I think it would be good for you.

BERNIE
: You think that, huh?

CAROL
: Yes.

BERNIE
: Of course it wouldn't get in the way of our getting to know each other.

CAROL
: Why are you getting married again?

BERNIE
: . . . Companionship.

Scene V

BERNIE
: But I'm a happy man now. And I don't use the term loosely.

I got a good job at the restaurant.

I've stopped drinking. I'm putting a little money away.

CAROL
: I'm glad to hear it.

BERNIE
: Well, there's nothing wrong with it.

For the first time in a long time I get a kick out of what I'm doing.

I enjoy it at work. Everybody knows me. They respect me.

I spend a lot of time walking. Just walking in the Common.

After all this time. Not to cadge a drink. Or to get laid.

Excuse me. . . .

People always talk about going out to the country or getting back to nature and all the time I say, “Yeah, yeah,” and what does it mean?

I see the logic of it, but it means nothing to me. Because my entire life I'm looking for a way around.

Do you know what I mean?

Like drinking, certainly, or with your mother, or my second wife. . . . Being in debt—there was never a reason for all that money trouble—and changing jobs all the time . . . so what does it get me but dumber and dumber, and I'm a cynic.

But now . . .

On the other hand, it's about time—I mean, I'm fifty-three years old. I've spent the majority of my life drinking and, when you come right down to it, being a hateful sonofabitch. . . .

But you, married. Living well. You live well.

A nice guy. A fine guy for a husband.

Going to have . . . maybe . . . kids.

You shouldn't let it bother you, but you have a lot of possibilities. Don't you feel that?

CAROL
: I do.

BERNIE
: Well, then. The rest is not very important.

It's for the weaklings.

No, really. And I like people as much as the next guy.

It's for the sissies and the drinkers—which I was—who need it.

Otherwise . . . What have you got to lose?

Take a chance.

You got to take your chance for happiness.

You got to grab it.

You got to know it and you got to want it.

And you got to
take
it.

Because all the possessions in the world can't take it for you.

Do you know what I'm talking about? . . .

It's a fucking jungle out there. And you got to learn
the rules because
nobody's
going to learn them for you.

You wanna drink? Go drink.

You wanna do
this?
Pay the price.

Always the price. Whatever it is.

And you gotta know it and be prepared to pay it if you don't want it to pass you by.

And if you don't know that, you gotta find it out, and that's all I know.

Scene VI

BERNIE
: I don't care.

1950, 1970.
(Pause.)

You know what I mean.

What's on my mind now is getting to know you.

And maybe getting married again.

You look good. Jesus, you are a good-looking young woman.

CAROL
: I get it all from you.

BERNIE
: Aaah . . .

CAROL
: I used to think you were the handsomest man I ever saw.

You used to look just like Tonto.

BERNIE
: Tonto?

CAROL
: The Indian. The Lone Ranger's friend.

BERNIE
: I know who Tonto is.

CAROL
: It was my secret. I was sure you were Tonto.

I asked you once.

You remember?

BERNIE
: No.

CAROL
: You said, “No, of course not.”

I was very upset. I didn't know why you were lying to me.

BERNIE
: I'm sorry.

CAROL
: I was about four.

I never told anyone.

I thought that it was our secret.
(Pause.)

You wanted me to keep our secret.
(Pause.)

BERNIE
: Thank you.

CAROL
: Bernie . . .

BERNIE
: What?

CAROL
: Bernie, you're wasted in the restaurant. Do you know that?

BERNIE
: I like it at the restaurant.

I love it at the restaurant.

It's where I work. Leslie works there.

What do you mean?

CAROL
: I mean . . .

BERNIE
: I mean who do you think you're talking to?

This is not Tonto the Indian but Butch Cary, ex-drunk.

The only two worthwhile things I ever did in my life were work for the Phone Company and fire a machine gun, and I can't do either of them anymore, not that I feel sorry for myself, but I'm just telling you.

I mean I am what I am and that's what happiness comes from . . . being just that. Don't you agree? . . . I mean you must remember that your mother was a very different sort of person from me. As is, I'm sure, the guy she married. And the way you're brought up, though all very well and good . . . is not basically my life, as fine as it may be and I hope it brings you a lot of happiness.

I mean, you haven't even
been
to the restaurant, for chrissakes. . . .

It's very clean and . . .

CAROL
: No, I'm sure it's . . . I only meant . . .

BERNIE
: I know what you meant.

I know what you're talking about.

But lookit, my life needn't be your life in any sense of the word, you know?

I like it like I am, and if you find that the people you . . . go with, your friends and so on . . .

CAROL
: Don't be silly, Bernie.

BERNIE
: I'm not being silly.

CAROL
: Yes, you are, and that's the last I want to say about it.

BERNIE
: Okay, but . . .

CAROL
: So for chrissakes, knock it off, okay?

Scene VII

BERNIE
: I gotta admit it. I knew you were coming over.

I was scared.

CAROL
: Yes, me too.

BERNIE
: There's nothing wrong in that.

CAROL
: No.

BERNIE
: After all, what were we going to expect . . .

Red Sails in the Sunset? . . .

What do you do now? I mean . . .

CAROL
: I work for Gerry. At the Office.

BERNIE
: You're a secretary?

CAROL
: I'm just kind of . . . everything.

BERNIE
: It sounds great.

CAROL
: It actually has a lot of responsibility.

BERNIE
: As long as you like it, right?

CAROL
(Pause)
: Right.

BERNIE
: So quit. . . .

Anyway, it's not the end of the world.

CAROL
: No.
(Pause.)
No.
(Pause.)
We're not . . . sleeping together much anymore.

BERNIE
: Oh.

CAROL
: And that's only
part
of it.

BERNIE
: What's the rest of it?

(Pause.)

Come on, let me tell you something. You know what my advice to you is?