We were Left Alone then to pedal through the Final Horseback Ride towards the E. & E. Scene aforementioned. Officially we were to Speak of Joe etc. (see above): in fact and understandably we Discussed our Honeymoon Plans, at least Began to: my own Inclination was to Revisit the Iroquois Motel, off Exit 58 (Irving/Angola) of the Thomas E. Dewey Thruway, which has certain sentimental associations for us; Marsha’s was, as best I could Determine, to travel to your city for the purpose of savoring the effects of her Bombshell Letter and to display to her first husband, who did not initiate it, her current pregnancy. The prospect (of so considerable an expedition) dizzied me; but I could not in any case Think Past the morrow’s Deadline P & A Session. More Immediately Alarming, moreover, was my bride’s condition: it became Every Moment More Apparent that she had put by, for this happy occasion, one last dose of that unidentified but remarkable narcotic she calls Honey Dust, acquired two weeks earlier from Mr. Bray at Comalot Farm and (so I had Believed) exhausted a day or two since. By sundown she was off her Exercycle and calmly burbling in the grass. It was All I Could Do to Haul her over to the appropriate window of the farmhouse for E. & E. The light was on; we were A Bit Late; I Peeked In and Saw Joe smoking his pipe and perusing our script, that novelized etc. aforecited. I Rapped on the pane for him to commence his performance, and Made to Make Sure “Rennie” was set to Espy.
She was asleep, my Wife, and snoring. Joe strolled over, raised the sash, leaned out, took a look, and said: Christ, Horner. But at my Entreaty he came out; we Fetched Her In; Marsha was stirring already, must have been a minor dose of Dust; I Knew From Past Experience she would be Cross As a Bear when she was Herself again, especially if that really was the End of the Ride, ha. I Hurried to Make my Pitch.
This is, I Said in effect to Joe, my Wife. That I Care For. Nevertheless, and Against my Inclination—deeply Against etc. — but by way of Partial Recompense for, let’s Say, 8/31/53 & thereafter, I here Offer you, Joe, on my and her Very Wedding Night, her.
Joe tapped out his pipe and without surprise responded: Horner, you Disgust me. She too.
Her too, too, here put in Marsha, whom I had Not Supposed all that awake yet, and who not for nothing was the ex-secretarial Bride of a Former Grammar Teacher: Me he Disgusts, too, she sort of repeated. Hold on, I Protested, not a little Taken Aback to Find her both awake and disgusted. Let me Explain. Explain my ass, my Wife expostulated [excuse the expression, Mr. Andrews]. Explain my ass, she repeated [the exact wording is important, sir]: It’s our G.D.M.F.‘ing Wedding Night, Jacob!
Exclamation point hers, sir, as Reasonably inferred from tone of voice, facial expression, tear-glint in eyes. I Must Explain that over & above the surprising content of her expostulation — surprising I Mean in that I had Anticipated, on the basis of earlier observations and remarks of hers, at best indifference to, at worst outright enthusiasm for, on her part, my Proposition, should she be Together enough, as they say, to register it at all — was a more considerable extraordinariness: it was the first time that Marsha had ever addressed me by my Name!
When I was Together enough myself for Further Speech, I Inquired of her, in effect, You don’t want to go to bed with him? Well, she said, no. I mean [she said, and I Reasonably Infer three suspension points plus italics]… no. I mean [i.e., she means] I didn’t. Oh, Said I. Well. Then. Golly. In that case.
Now, excuse the playscript format, sir: this was, after all — I now Recalled With Growing Consternation — a scene, from Der Wiedertraum.
MORGAN (SUDDENLY INTERESTED) (IN EFFECT): Done.
ME: What?
MORGAN: Leave us, Horner. Alone. Go ’round to the window.
MARSHA (IN EFFECT): No.
MORGAN: Horner?
ME: Well…
MY WIFE (VERBATIM): Jacob!
MYSELF (IN EFFECT): She, um, doesn’t want to, Joe. I Mean, I’m as Surprised as anybody. But if she really doesn’t want to. Gosh.
I now Summarize. Here Morgan withdrew from his pockets both hands, where he had thrust them during the above. With the left he held before Marsha’s nose a tiny white packet disagreeably familiar, saying: Honey Dust. Found in “Bibi’s” room after she left. With the right he unzipped his trouser fly, whereto, to my Chagrin, my Wife, without another word, went. Out, Horner, Joe ordered. To the window. Peep. Espy. Watch me fuck your Wife [your pardon, Mr. A., but etc.], before your Very Eyes, before you Do, on your Very Wedding Night. Out.
Well, Said I, my voice to my Surprise choking off some. Well. But by golly I Want it Clearly Understood, Joe, that this is it for Der Wiedertraum! Tears in my eyes, sir. Morgan appeared to Consider for a moment — Marsha was at it, I Couldn’t Look — and then said: Nope. You Go Out There and Watch me [etc., above]. Then you Leave. She stays here. Though it is too late for me to knock your Wife up, I am going to Honey-Dust and hump her every which way till the cows come home, like [sic] you did Rennie. At eight A.M. sharp you and I will have our scheduled Last P & A: Confrontation and Deadline. After that she’s yours. Bring your Hornbook. Go.
I Paused, Reflected, then Declared: I Hate This. But okay. Joe asked my Wife whether she heard and understood. Marsha cleared her mouth and throat and said, to me: You creep. To Morgan: Dust me, Dust me. To me: Want to Put It In for him, too? To Morgan: Dust me, for Christ sake. Thanks. To me: Oh, Buddy, will you ever Pay for this.
Etc. I Went Outside, Took up Position; they came to the window to make sure I Didn’t Cheat. I Hated it. They laughed; I Dry-Heaved: Then Marsha Dusted Off. I Said Huskily through the window: Let me Take her home now, Joe. He responded: Bugger off, Horner.
Bad night; I’ll Skip the Details. Sometime after midnight, in my Room, I Entered my Name in Column One, Cuckold, of my Hornbook: HORNER, Jacob, between Hephaestus and Hosea: Marsha in Column Two, Wife, between Aphrodite and Gomer, Joe in Column Three, Lover(s), between Anchises, Ares, Butes, Dionysus, Hermes, Poseidon, Zeus, etc., etc. and Everybody.
It is a listing I Keep, sir, have for some years Kept, at the (late) Doctor’s Rx. Before dawn I Actually Fell Asleep, so finally and truly Purged After All, even Pissed Off, did I Feel.