Unamused By max mcewan "Frank," his friend said one day, "I've wanted to tell you this for a long time, and I hope you can take it, 'cause Fm going to say it whether you like it or not, 'cause it's for your own good. "You used to be a swell guy. Everybody liked you 'cause you were young and clever and 'cause you seemed to fit into any kind of a mood and could make friends with anybody. But now you don't seem to be interested in things around you. When you're in a crowd you seem to be a thousand miles away, and you're getting terribly irresponsible. You say you'll do something, and then you don't do it. And you say you'll be somewhere at a certain time, and then you don't show up. You don't do it on purpose, I know; you just forget. But damn it, you weren't like this before you met Helen, and any dame who can do this to you just isn't any good. Why the hell don't you forget her?" Frank grinned and made a noise in his glass with a straw. His lips turned up more on one side than the other when he grinned, and one eyebrow raised slightly, and his cool blue eyes looked right into your heart and seemed amused. But you didn't feel uncomfortable. You just forgot what you were going to say, and felt contented and drowsy. His smile was like a magnet drawing you to him. And yet, somehow, you felt there would be no warmth there-only a cold acknowledgment and indifference. "Helen's a swell girl, Harry," Frank replied. "She didn't do this to me I did it myself." "Yeah," Harry said in disgust. "Helen isn't a bit selfish. She isn't like these girls who don't care for anyone but themselves. She makes sacrifices and thinks of other people's feelings. She's not interested just in herself." Frank laughed, held his glass by the rim with his fingers, and twisted it about, swishing the dark colored liquid around and around. "You're getting to the point where you don't give a damn about anything or anybody," Harry insisted. "I reached that point some time ago," Frank said. "Well, what are you going to do about it?" "I'm going to have another coke-and-cherry," Frank replied, catching the eye of a blond waitress. "I'll take vanilla," said Harry. The blond waitress came over, smoothed her apron over her hips with her hands, and smiled indulgently at Frank. "What'll it be, Cynic? Another coke-and-cherry?" she said. Frank turned on his best smile. "And my friend will have vanilla," he said. "I'm not drinking," said Harry. "Look what it's done to him." "Why don't we go out somewhere sometime?" she said with mock petulance, looking at Frank. "I wouldn't have anything left for a coke-and-cherry every night in the week," Frank replied, still smiling. "Well," she said, turning to leave with an air of resignation, "Maybe some time when you're hard up for a little romance ..." But memories must remain Smoldering and burning brighter, And loving is forgetting And forgetting remembering. Frank watched her smile at him as she mixed his drink, brought it over, and went to wait on a customer. "Now there's a girl, Harry. She'd make a good wife." "Yeah," Harry replied, "coke-and-cherry and love for two." The door opened and in blew the breath of winter and a fellow with a hat with a turned-up brim and an air of restlessness. He spotted Frank and Harry and smiled at the waitress. "Another coke-and-cherry, Cherie," he said, and sat down by Frank. "One of these days," he remarked to Frank, "they'll perform an autopsy on you, and all they'll find is coke-and-cherry." "You talk like you've had a good woo," said Frank. "I have," he replied, taking off his hat, fluffing up his hair, and beaming like a well-fed cat. Frank made a clucking noise with his tongue on the roof of his mouth and shook his head sadly from side to side. The waitress came over and set a coke-and cherry in front of the fellow with the air of restlessness: "Thank you, Jim," she said pleasantly. "Will you have another?" she asked Frank. "No," said Harry, "He'll just sit and swish the ice around in his glass a bit." Frank, he just remembered, had no money. She smiled knowingly, handed Harry the check for the last five drinks, and left to wait on a customer. Jim tossed off his coke-and-cherry. "Look," he said, "it's so damn dead in here I can almost smell the formaldehyde. Let's do something." "Good idea," said Harry. "Good idea," Frank agreed. "Get your hats," said Jim, getting up. "Where to?" said Harry. "We're going to shoot a game of pool," Jim replied. "That's the only way you can hit the balls," said Frank. So Harry paid the check, and they left "Bob's" and got in Jim's car, and drove down the street. Pool parlors are filthy holes on the whole, and this one was no exception. You could roll your own cigarettes, if you knew how, using just the tobacco in the atmosphere. They didn't serve soft drinks in here just beer. A tough looking kid who should be going to high school racked the balls for them. A shifty-eyed fellow in an old sheepskin coat came over to their table and sat down to watch. Frank made a mental note to keep his eye on his coat. They flipped to see who was going to break the balls, and Jim won. "I told you you'd need a gun," Frank said, after Jim stopped annoying the balls. "Very good," said Jim, as Frank shot and missed. Page Eighteen "Look," said Harry, "it's done like this. And so saying, bounced the cue ball off three cushions, dropping the one, thirteen, and fifteen. "It isn't fair," Frank said. "You've been doped." "I couldn't lose money any faster playing the marble machines," Jim volunteered. Frank and Harry said it in unison. "You stay away from the marble machines, you crackpot." "Quiet, please. It's my turn. Try to act like gentlemen," Jim replied. Well, Harry won that game and the next one, and boasted that he could beat the "Dead End Kids" with one hand tied behind him. Then Frank grabbed the shifty-eyed fellow by the collar of his sheepskin coat and said, "Hand it over." The fellow gave him a dirty-toothed smile, took a fountain pen out of his pocket, and handed it to Frank. Frank took the pen and relaxed his grip on the fellow's collar. "Let's get out of here." he said, "before we get a knife in our backs." So Harry paid for the game, and they put on their hats and coats and walked out and down the street. "Now there's a dress," said Frank, stopping in front of a ladies' apparel shop. "Speaking of dresses," Jim said, "you should have seen the one Betty had on last night." Back in Jim's car they watched the people going by. "So she had on a dress," Harry said to Jim. Jim made a pass at him. "Oh yes," said Jim, "you should have seen it. It was one of those strapless affairs." "Did you get a good woo?" Harry asked. "Well, it was the first time I'd taken her out, and I didn't expect much." "But being a virile youth, and having a reputation to live up to, you thought you'd see what you could do," said Harry. "She had on this strapless affair, and looked adorable in the moonlight," said Jim. "It was all too beautiful," said Frank, watching a panhandler on the street outside stop people as they went by and ask them for a handout. "We were in the car, and she jumped and a gave a little 'Oh', when I put my arm around her and touched her shoulder with my cold hand," Jim continued. "There we were parked by the side of the lake, listening to soft music from the radio, with her head on my shoulder, and the intoxicating perfume of her fanning the flame of my desire. The warmth of our bodies condensed on the windows, and there we were, with her soft cheek pressing against mine." "Did you tell her you loved her?" Harry asked. "It was all too beautiful," Frank said, sarcastically. "After a while I tipped her head back, looked deep into her eyes, and kissed her," Jim continued. "Oh it was wonderful, simply wonderful." "Why doesn't someone ask me how I did last night?" Harry asked. Frank didn't say anything. He was thinking how the electric sign, hanging out over the street and flickering ceaselessly on and off, symbolized the lives of the people going by doing the same things day in and day out, never getting anywhere. He was thinking, too, of a night he'd spent with Helen by the side of the lake. "So you did all right last night yourself?" Jim asked Harry. "Well, she isn't as pretty as Betty," Harry replied, "but there isn't anything wrong with her shape, and she must have been poured into the thing she was wearing last night." "Did you ever stop to think how lucky we are?" Frank asked. "There is something wrong physically or mentally with ninety-nine out of a hundred of the people going by out-there on the street. Three-fourths of them look like they're starving to death, half of them look like they haven't been beyond the sixth grade, only one or two dress sensibly or walk sensibly, and they all seem to be going somewhere in a hurry except the ones who seem to have forgotten where they were going and what they were going to do." But Harry continued. "Well, like you say, it was a swell night, with moonlight sparkling on the snow, and, well, she snuggled right up when I put my arm around her." Frank appeared restless. "There was a radio in our car, too, and we listened to the 'Black Chappel', and I was the beast and she was the beauty. She's an emotional wench, and fell for the old 'I-love-you' which I chanted most soul-fully." "It was all too beautiful," said Frank, a little viciously. "Loan me a nickle." "What do you want a nickle for?" Harry asked, taking one out of his pocket and giving it to him. "for a coke-and-cherry," Frank replied. "For Hell's sake!" said Harry. "That's a good idea," Jim said, "I'll have one too." So they went back to "BOB'S", sat down in their regular booth, and ordered three coke-and-cherrys. The air was thick with tobacco and muffled voices. Every now and then a woman would giggle, and somebody was telling somebody else to buy his own beer. A fellow about their own age put a nickle in the nickle-odian, and the soft, melancholy strains of "Deep Purple" made a woman cry and started somebody whistling. "It would have to be that piece," Harry thought. He looked at Jim, and they both looked at Frank as he swished the dark colored liquid around and around with a far away look in his eyes. Page Nineteen