Naked Came the Stranger - By Penelope Ashe Page 0,17

was an argument.

"I think you owe me an explanation," she said. "You go out to Modell's for paint and it keeps you three hours –"

"You know those crowds at Modell's," he said.

"And you come home without any paint. And that smile – I don't see anything so funny. Then on Thursday you have the office softball game and you say you're so tired you can't do a thing around here."

"Well, I do work during the week," he suggested.

"Sit at a desk," she said. "While I'm here trying to make us a nice home, a good life. And you're sitting there at that desk and you don't care how we live."

"I care," he said. "I care. But not twenty-four hours a day. It's inhuman to slave around this house all day. There's no time for anything else. God, when I think of what it was like when we were first married –"

"That's all you ever do think about," Gloria said. "I'm beginning to think I married some kind of a sex maniac. That may have been all right before we had responsibilities. We've finally got a home. Soon we'll have children. We've got to start getting organized."

"Children!" Morton was shouting now. "How in the hell can two people have children when they don't even sleep together?"

"Sex maniac!" she screamed.

"Damn right!"

"If that's all that being married means to you," she said, "then we have one beautiful relationship."

"Oh, shit!"

"All you want is my body," she went on. "What about building a life together, a home for our…?"

"Shit, shit, shit!" The deep end. "Screw a life together. Screw the home. Screw your body."

"I'm not listening to you," she said.

"Goodbye," he said.

The dream returned then. The neat, always tidy bachelor apartment. The predecorated, regularly cleaned, air-conditioned, bachelor apartment. The stereo set, the sleep-in guests, Gillian Blake. And Morton Earbrow knew what must be done. He walked up the freshly finished stairs, entered the recently papered bedroom, shoved aside his work clothes, jammed his suits and shirts into two suitcases. And left.

A week later he made the phone call. "Gillian?"

"Morton," she said.

"What's doing?"

"What's doing with you?" she said. "Where are you?"

"I've got this great new pad," Morton said, "here on 66th Street. You can see the East River right behind the smokestacks."

"That sounds great," Gillian said. "Where's Gloria?"

"Gloria who?" he said. "Hey, you've got to drop up here after the show. I'll show you the East River. I'll show you my etchings."

"You mean it's all over with Gloria?" she said.

"It never was with Gloria," he said. "How about…?"

"Goodbye," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Goodbye," she said.

Click. Morton Earbrow felt the phone go dead in his hand. He stood there, looking beyond the smokestacks at the East River. He was aware of the mechanical hum of the air conditioner, and the room seemed suddenly cold. Morton Earbrow, a do-it-yourselfer with nothing to do, spent the next hour listening to his new FM radio. He mixed himself two martinis. He changed the linen on his new bed. And it was not until late that night that he began constructing a small and somewhat crude wine rack out of coat hangers and an orange crate. It was hard going, mainly because he didn't have the proper tools.

Before retiring for the night he wrote himself a note:

"Buy new drill on way to work."

EXCERPT FROM "THE BILLY & GILLY SHOW, OCTOBER 27TH

Gilly: Say, Billy, did you see the newspaper stories about the special religious service that's planned for our own King's Neck?

Billy: You mean at the Jewish temple?

Gilly: Yes, where they're going to feature a rock 'n' roll group.

Billy: Wild.

Gilly: I know, it's too fascinating. I've heard about using jazz as part of the liturgy, but rock 'n' roll! To say the least, that's a bit different.

Billy: Of course, the rabbi there, Rabbi Joshua Turnbull, is well known as an innovator.

Gilly: He's a comparatively young man, too.

Billy: You know, he might make an interesting guest. Gilly: Yes, I think he would be extremely interesting. I've never drawn out a rabbi before.

JOSHUA TURNBULL

It was too simple, too easy. Ernie Miklos… Morton Earbrow… Gillian, weary of automatic conquests, was tempted to abandon her plan. What was needed at this juncture was a challenge. Something that would permit her to test her mettle.

Joshua Turnbull, spiritual leader of the tiny Jewish community in King's Neck, had in recent months become a figure of modest controversy. It began when he announced plans to amplify a Friday night service the following month with a rock 'n' roll group