thermometer two weeks ago when you took your temperature to try and get out of going that time. Will you stop?”
They were arguing about going to see Stefan. This was another one of Talmadge’s rituals, and Ceinwen always tried to let it play out without her in the room. She leaned against the wall and waited quietly; it wouldn’t take long.
She had met Stefan only twice, at the store, a tall man with a shock of blond hair and a wide mouth. He had been polite, but he was nothing like Jim and Talmadge, who had started flirting and cracking jokes within minutes of meeting her. “He likes you,” Talmadge apologized, “but Stefan isn’t all that crazy about girls.” He was Talmadge’s oldest friend, the first friend he had made in New York. Talmadge was always vague about exactly what he did when he went out with Stefan in the early days, and she never pressed him. “I don’t ask him either,” said Jim.
But the early days ended when Stefan joined AA, at which point Talmadge started to see less of him. Talmadge wanted to keep drinking, and did. “I loved him, but I’d never have moved in with him then,” said Jim. “Never. Drunk he was doing Marlene imitations and coming on to everything but the swizzle sticks. Hungover he was Baby Jane Hudson.”
Talmadge might have kept on forever had he not fallen asleep one night on the Q train, which wasn’t even his line, and woke at dawn in Brighton Beach, still a bit drunk, his wallet and big topaz ring missing and, he told Ceinwen, “it took me half an hour to figure out why the fuck everyone was speaking Russian.”
He called Stefan and they went to a meeting, but Talmadge didn’t take to the process. “Oh god, sweetie, it was brutal,” he told her. “Brutal. I don’t know what to compare it to. Sunday school. Or Lily telling me about one of her dates.” Stefan argued, but Talmadge objected to everything—the endless talking, the chairs, the lighting, the insufficient number of sufficiently attractive men.
Most of all, he objected to the Higher Power business, which wasn’t something you got to skip. “Everybody insisted, and I finally came up with one,” said Talmadge. “Marlene Dietrich. Especially
The Scarlet Empress
. I thought that was a great idea. That’s power.” She gathered that despite Talmadge’s sincerity—he really did think Marlene would have been happy to help him out—his bad attitude remained. After about a half-dozen meetings he stopped going, and no amount of Stefan’s pleading could get him to return. Instead of going to AA, he’d call Stefan, and they would go out for macrobiotic food, and Stefan would talk him down.
Bit by bit Stefan made Talmadge go through the steps, eventually getting to all of them, or so Talmadge claimed. “Even Marlene?” she’d asked. “Especially Marlene,” said Talmadge. “She’s very understanding.”
He tried to make amends with Jim. “He wanted to tell me all about how sorry he was for leaving me in the men’s room at Limelight when he met some dockworker, and that he was sorry for all the times he stole my customers,” said Jim. “Be glad you didn’t know him while this was going on. It took days. He kept coming back with stuff he’d blacked out, like the time I left a big tip for a cute bartender, and when I turned my back, he used it to buy another couple of margaritas. I hadn’t even realized how often he screwed me over. And then he went back to Stefan, and Stefan told him that he knew damn good and well he’d done bigger things to me than that, and Talmadge started apologizing to me about those, and I told him to tell Stefan that Marlene understood and so did I.”
Talmadge hadn’t had a drink in three years, but now Stefan was sick. The conversation in the kitchen had paused, and she needed coffee in a bad way, so she walked in.
“Good morning, starshine,” sang Talmadge.
Jim peered at her. “There’s still some coffee. Talmadge and I are just leaving.”
“I
They were arguing about going to see Stefan. This was another one of Talmadge’s rituals, and Ceinwen always tried to let it play out without her in the room. She leaned against the wall and waited quietly; it wouldn’t take long.
She had met Stefan only twice, at the store, a tall man with a shock of blond hair and a wide mouth. He had been polite, but he was nothing like Jim and Talmadge, who had started flirting and cracking jokes within minutes of meeting her. “He likes you,” Talmadge apologized, “but Stefan isn’t all that crazy about girls.” He was Talmadge’s oldest friend, the first friend he had made in New York. Talmadge was always vague about exactly what he did when he went out with Stefan in the early days, and she never pressed him. “I don’t ask him either,” said Jim.
But the early days ended when Stefan joined AA, at which point Talmadge started to see less of him. Talmadge wanted to keep drinking, and did. “I loved him, but I’d never have moved in with him then,” said Jim. “Never. Drunk he was doing Marlene imitations and coming on to everything but the swizzle sticks. Hungover he was Baby Jane Hudson.”
Talmadge might have kept on forever had he not fallen asleep one night on the Q train, which wasn’t even his line, and woke at dawn in Brighton Beach, still a bit drunk, his wallet and big topaz ring missing and, he told Ceinwen, “it took me half an hour to figure out why the fuck everyone was speaking Russian.”
He called Stefan and they went to a meeting, but Talmadge didn’t take to the process. “Oh god, sweetie, it was brutal,” he told her. “Brutal. I don’t know what to compare it to. Sunday school. Or Lily telling me about one of her dates.” Stefan argued, but Talmadge objected to everything—the endless talking, the chairs, the lighting, the insufficient number of sufficiently attractive men.
Most of all, he objected to the Higher Power business, which wasn’t something you got to skip. “Everybody insisted, and I finally came up with one,” said Talmadge. “Marlene Dietrich. Especially
The Scarlet Empress
. I thought that was a great idea. That’s power.” She gathered that despite Talmadge’s sincerity—he really did think Marlene would have been happy to help him out—his bad attitude remained. After about a half-dozen meetings he stopped going, and no amount of Stefan’s pleading could get him to return. Instead of going to AA, he’d call Stefan, and they would go out for macrobiotic food, and Stefan would talk him down.
Bit by bit Stefan made Talmadge go through the steps, eventually getting to all of them, or so Talmadge claimed. “Even Marlene?” she’d asked. “Especially Marlene,” said Talmadge. “She’s very understanding.”
He tried to make amends with Jim. “He wanted to tell me all about how sorry he was for leaving me in the men’s room at Limelight when he met some dockworker, and that he was sorry for all the times he stole my customers,” said Jim. “Be glad you didn’t know him while this was going on. It took days. He kept coming back with stuff he’d blacked out, like the time I left a big tip for a cute bartender, and when I turned my back, he used it to buy another couple of margaritas. I hadn’t even realized how often he screwed me over. And then he went back to Stefan, and Stefan told him that he knew damn good and well he’d done bigger things to me than that, and Talmadge started apologizing to me about those, and I told him to tell Stefan that Marlene understood and so did I.”
Talmadge hadn’t had a drink in three years, but now Stefan was sick. The conversation in the kitchen had paused, and she needed coffee in a bad way, so she walked in.
“Good morning, starshine,” sang Talmadge.
Jim peered at her. “There’s still some coffee. Talmadge and I are just leaving.”
“I
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