Three's a Crowd

Three's a Crowd

Susan sat on the sofa, her glass of red wine beside her. She eyed it carefully, taking advantage of the fact that Charlie had left to refill his glass. She needed to make sure that it really was only half empty. Mama had always said that if wine were to be drunk like water, people would water gardens with Chardonnay. The glass was exactly half empty. That was a relief. She couldn't afford to get even slightly tipsy here.

Charlie was still in the other room. Susan pulled out her compact mirror checking her reflection. Makeup and lipstick were still flawless. Mama's hairpin, a blue butterfly with spirals of yellow stones on each wing, spread itself perfectly over her right bangs, contrasting beautifully with her dark brown hair. Everything was as it had been the last three times she had looked at herself. The first time had been when Charlie had excused himself, right before dinner and had left her in the living room. The second time had been at dinner itself, during a lull in the conversation. Mama would have died, had she'd known. Mama always said that dinner was for others and not yourself. But Mama hadn't been sitting at the little dining room table, decked with a double armed candelabra, each arm hoisting a burning candle into the air and three shining platters where dinner lay, waiting to be eaten. Charlie had sat opposite her. In between them had been Simon. Simon had never been at the table at dinner before. The evening had felt wrong since.

Susan held the mirror to her face, listening for the slightest sound that would tell her Charlie was coming back. The apartment was still. She should put the mirror away--what if Charlie suddenly walked in, cat-like, and saw her staring at herself in the mirror, enraptured by her own reflection? He'd think she was a stuck-up bitch. But putting the mirror away would mean facing Simon, now sitting in the chair opposite her. Better to let Charlie walk in then to face the silence with Simon.

She shook her head. She couldn't. There was too much of her mother inside of her. Daughters always become their mothers, Mama's voice said in her head. Susan took a breath and snapped the mirror shut.

Simon sat just where Charlie had put him. His blue glass eyes stared blankly at Susan, his nut-cracker like jaw firmly shut. His porcelain hands lay atop his lap, clothed in gray trousers to match the gray Forties suit that he wore, complete with cherry red tie. His white face, touched with red blush on each cheek, was polished and shiny and his black hair, solid but slicked back in the style of Cary Grant, matched his face in its cleanliness and its shine.

Susan shivered, rose from the sofa and moved to the balcony window. A fifth story view of old downtown spread out below the window, the lights from the antique street lamps and numerous windows making believe they were fireflies in summertime. Susan leaned her head on the window. It was a boring view but anything was preferable to sitting opposite the dummy. Even with Charlie's annoying habit, why did it unsettle her this much? It shouldn't have, not after all this time. It was just an oversized doll made of fancy clay and wood.

"See anything you like?"

She spun around so that her hair made a halo over her shoulders. Charlie stood by the archway which divided the living room and dining room, his wine glass, filled to the brim with scarlet liquid, in his right hand. His left hand was full with a blue ceramic bowl. He smiled, a flush creeping over his ears. "Sorry," he continued as he walked deeper into the living room, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Susan returned the smile, hoping that its flash would distract Charlie from the sound of her heart, surging with the adrenaline rush. It pounded in her temples like a bass drum so loudly the neighbors downstairs had to hear it. "No, not a bit, Charlie. I couldn't get nervous around you."

"Really? Looks like I'm going to have to try harder or otherwise they're going to award me a good conduct medal. And then what am I going to do? Peanuts?" He held out the blue bowl to Susan. There was a second's hesitation, enough for a draw of breath. Why did it have to be peanuts? Didn't he remember? Of all the things to offer after dinner...Her hand reached in and delicately took a small cluster of peanuts. "Thanks, Charlie. Don't lose your good conduct medal on my account."

"Well said, young lady." The voice, imbued with New York, noir and Orson Welles, came from the chair where Simon sat. "I really don't know why Miss Loy puts up with your stupid and, to be quite frank, rather crass attempts at humor. If you tried as hard at your work as you try at comedy, you might have been made a CEO by now."

Suzanne inhaled, sharp and swift. Mama always said not to wear your emotions on your sleeve but there had to be a time when you could get rid of the rules. Charlie was doing it again.

"Simon, why don't you read about lumberjacks or something?" Charlie said. "We're having a conversation."

"Am I not here?" the voice asked, rising from the high chair back. "Do I not have dimensions and organs with which I can interject when I see an injustice being committed which would have Miss Manners blushing in shame?"

Charlie shook his head. "You're not Olivier, Simon. Don't tread on his toes and everyone will be happier."

Simon snorted, something between a boar and a bull. Susan grasped her hands behind, squeezing them with all the strength she could summon so that they wouldn't take a life of their own. She couldn't let them run wild.

"Olivier wouldn't be able to find Hamlet if Shakespeare was right in front of him, for your information Charles. Much like you and a sense of humor."

"Big talk from a guy whose only characteristic is that his name is bigger than he is. People would have to bring telescopes to find you if you ever got on stage. I bet--"

"Charlie!"

The name erupted sharp like glass from her lips. It shattered the routine into a freezing silence. She took and released a breath. "Please, Charlie. You said that you wouldn't do that while I was here. You promised the last time. I made you promise."

"Oh. Right." Charlie's face flirted with a shadow, a tug of war that lasted for a second before the face won and a smile spread itself over it. "Sorry Susan," he said. "Old habits die hard. I'll try to do better. Promise. If it happens again, just come after me again and I'll sulk for a second and then nip it in the bud. Let's go over to the sofa. We'll be able to see the skyline better. Maybe even a shooting star. I'll even let you claim it for a wish."

Susan followed, hands still clasped behind her back. She sat down stiffly, her back a ramrod to contrast with the sofa, made soft by years of use. Simon stared at them from the chair, his expression the same as it had been before. She stared hard at the glassy, blue eyes. Was there something different there?

"Hey," Charlie said, "are you going to help me eat these peanuts or not? Cuz' if you let me eat them all, my ears will probably grow so much they'll name me the ninth wonder of the universe."

No, there couldn't be anything different about Simon's face. No one had moved him. But why did the shadows over his face seem elongated, ever so slightly?

"Either that or I'm going to start running at every squeak I here."

Could it be the moonlight? Moon shadows changed just like regular shadows. But the windows weren't in the right place for the moon to reach the chair.

"Do you like them with the shells or not?"

Simon couldn't have moved. He couldn't of, he was just a plain, old, stupid dummy; he couldn't have moved and Charlie couldn't have moved him so it followed...

"Why do I feel like you're on a date with Simon instead of me?"

Simon's name was a charm, a boulder that broke through the glass of her concentration. She broke eye contact with the dummy and turned to Charlie. "What?"

"I said, you disappeared down the rabbit hole, Angel. You left me all alone."

Susan partially forced a smile and cleared away the threads of concern in her mind. "I guess I was for a bit." She paused, a molecule of silence. "Charlie? Could you put Simon away for the night?"

"Why? It's too early to put him up yet. I've never even shown you our baseball sketch. It's a riot! Guaranteed to produce four laughs, seven chuckles and a punchline that'll--"

"Please, Charlie, listen to me!" She could feel her nails digging into her hands, burrowing desperately to escape from shadows and glass eyes and routines performed by the most handsome man she had ever met and Simon Orson Christopher Humphry Coleman, Dummy of Stage, Screen and Radio. She pushed away the thought of her nails and the fear that drove them drawing the strength from Charlie's eyes. Blue eyes; warm eyes; the eyes of a man with life and not a puppet. She forced her hands to stop as she held Charlie's gaze. "Please Charlie. I just want to have time with you."

Charlie's eyes flickered, two hummingbirds, for a moment. Then, a smile--the smile--stretched itself out. It wasn't as luminous as other times that was obvious. But it was there. That was all that mattered.

"All right, Angel." He stood up and walked over to the chair. "Come on, big shot. The lady and I want to be alone." He scooped Simon up with both hands.

"And if you're alone, who, may I ask, will babysit you?" The shiny face came alive: the left eyebrow arched with the question and the wooden hinges of the jaw noiselessly worked and the head tilted up so that Simon was staring directly into Charlie's eyes. "The nanny won't be in until tomorrow, you know."

Susan held her breath. It wouldn't last long. Simon was going for the evening. This was just the last nod to the curtain.

"I've got a guardian angel on my right shoulder, pal," Charlie rejoined. "I think that he'll do just fine."

"Hmmm. Seems a rather paltry fellow, if you ask me. He obviously doesn't get as much exercise as the devil I see on your left shoulder."

Charlie's left hand sprung up and smothered Simon's mouth. A few muffled, garbled sounds came out and then Simon was quiet. His eyes protested silently. "You're not supposed to let Susan know about the other guy. She's supposed to find out about him on her own." He walked to the corner of the room where an old leather footrest, cracked with age and worry, sat alone, clutching at the darkness around it. "Now it's time for you to disappear. Say goodnight to Susan."

"Must I? I'm not so sure anymore that I care for Miss Loy. Demanding that I be sent out of the room when I was holding my peace very well, thank you very much. Hardly something a lady would do."

"Say goodnight."

A pause stood out in the room. "Goodnight, Miss Loy."

Susan stood up. It was silly but it was automatic. Mama always said that those we hated most were the ones we were to show the most kindness. "Goodnight--Simon."

"Be careful, my boy," Simon said, his head twisting back to look at Charlie. Charlie spread the dummy on the footstool and draped the moth infested blanket, hiding underneath the stool, over Simon. There was the breathing of words but Susan couldn't hear them distinctly. Probably just their sign off.

Charlie returned to the sofa and his hands motioned to Susan. She sat down next to him, cuddling up against him as much as she dared. Mama wouldn't approve but Charlie was here and Mama wasn't. Charlie was here, alone, with her and Simon wasn't. A peaceful balm of quiet settled over the sofa and the living room. The lights of the old downtown had even perked and now were glowing with all the enthusiasm of diamonds, freshly cut and polished and set in earring, necklaces and rings for royalty and brides to wear. She blushed. It was too early to think about that. This was only their fourth official date and they had only known each other for a month. It seemed shorter and longer than that somehow but calendars didn't lie. She had had Charlie in her life only for a month. She nestled closer to him. "What are you thinking, Charlie?"

Charlie wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I wish that Simon and I could have shown you are finale act. You would have loved it."

Susan felt her brain buzz again with annoyance. He was still thinking about the dummy and not her? He was holding her now, and not Simon. Simon was gone and she was the only thing that should matter to him. She breathed deeply, allowing the air to come in and cool the fire that threatened to explode from her eyes and mouth. She couldn't afford that. She couldn't afford to lose him.

"Is that all your thinking about?"

"Did I say the wrong thing?"

"An unexpected thing. Can you only talk about Simon?"

Charlie shook his head, a two note laugh rising from his throat. "No, I guess I shouldn't. It's just hard sometimes, you know? When you're together so much, it's hard not to talk about the other person. For a long time--working on the act, performing, you know--Simon was about the only other person with me. You're mind thinks about that other person an awful lot in those sorts of situations. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"Hmmm. I'll have to try to help you break that habit. I'm thinking about the first time you saw me. Remember that?"

She could feel Charlie smile, could feel its glow spreading all over his body and, from it, to her. "Yeah. It was the lunch hour."

"That's right." She tilted her head up so that their eyes could meet. "I was standing in the window when you looked up and saw me. Best day of my life."

"That was a good day. I remember you standing there, just looking all pretty. I was just coming back from the Palladium Theatre. Simon had asked me to look into it for another performance. Fred Allen preformed their once, you know. We had thought up a great act where Simon was going to play the violin and I was going to raze him about it like Allen did to Benny back in '48 and then we were going to go back to..."

The fire leapt up into her eyes. Susan could feel its heat in them and in her mouth. "Yeah," she said, the tremor growing in her voice. "And the next day, you came by and asked to take me to lunch."

"That's right. You wanted to go to the Glass House for their lunch special but I didn't want to. Simon was always telling me about how great and sophisticated and cultured it was so I knew that it was going to be filled with a bunch of stuffed shirts."

"Yeah; right. You took me to the Biscuit instead."

"Much better place. Course, Simon didn't agree when I told him after I dropped you back at the office."

The fire couldn't be contained. "Does everything have to be about Simon, all the time tonight?"

"Come on, babe," Charlie cooed, "I'm just talking. You told me I could talk to you about anything, remember?"

"That doesn't give you carte blanche to just gush about that stupid dummy all the time, even when I'm here and I want you and your attention."

The smile disappeared from Charlie's face. "You don't like Simon, Suzan?"

Her breath came hard. He was going to think that she was having an attack of some time. Mama always said that a girl had to control her emotions. Had Mama ever had to deal with this though? Mama wasn't here and she was.

"I...I don't think I care for him very much."

She watched Charlie's face shift and twist itself with shadows, a chameleon in the dark. She felt her heart race faster. She had hurt him. Damn it, couldn't he see that she wanted him without Simon? Why was this s hard for him?

"I mean, I like him in small doses, Charlie. You're so talented with him and you have a great act. It just gets a little too much for me to constantly have a show going on when I'm trying to be with you. Every so often, if you want to bring him out, that's fine. I'd like that. But I want you. I want you for myself, Charlie. I want us."

"Every so often?!" Simon's voiced boomed out.

Susan jumped, twisting her eyes to the dark corner of the room where the outline of the dummy traced itself on the coverlet.

"Simon," Charlie yelled, "she didn't mean it. She really likes you, you know that. Last time she asked for an encore of our Double Header routine..."

"Made only to keep you blind as to how she really felt about me, Charles. Don't be a fool!"

"Charlie!" Susan turned back to look at him. "Why are you doing this? I'm talking to you!"

"Look, Susan, know that you really didn't mean what you said. You don't really think that. I mean, you've got a great deal going on right now. Two great guys for the price of one!"

The tears oozed up from her soul. Susan felt them burn her eyes and blaze trails of ice and fire down her cheeks. "How can you joke right now, Charlie? When I feel like this, how can you belittle my feelings like this..."

Charlie licked his lips. His breath came in short spurts. "Susan, I know you didn't mean it. Just apologize and everything--"

"Apologize?" Her voice erupted from her throat, raw and visceral. "I will not apologize to that dummy!"

"You see, Charles!" Simon's voice came again from the dark. "She doesn't want me to be with you anymore. She'll take me away from you. She wants to break up the act."

Susan spun, reached the stool in the dark in four bounding steps. She ripped the coverlet off. Simon lay where Charlie had laid him, his eyes staring at the ceiling, the shadows playing with his features. She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, raising him to eye level. "I told you to shut up!" I love him! He's mine, you hear me! He's mine!"

"I was here long before you, my dear," Simon said a sneer covering the words. "I'm the original and you will play by my rules. By our rules."

"I hate you, you damn son of bitch!" Her arms reacted, fueled by hatred. Simon flew across the room, his head slamming against the wall. He crumpled into a heap onto the floor. A silence descended upon the room. Charlie, his eyes blank, shuffled over to Simon, knelt down, and cradled the dummy in his arms. Susan stood still, the anger draining from her body. "I..I'm sorry Charlie," she whispered. Her legs took her to where Charlie still sat with Simon. Without thinking, she knelt down and put her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry Charlie. Please don't hate me. I..I just love you so much. I know I shouldn't. We've only been dating for a month but I do. I was just jealous of Simon. I'm silly but I was jealous because I love you. Please forgive me. Please say it's ok."

"You swore." Charlie's voice came out low and calm.

"What?"

"You swore. When you threw Simon across the room."

"I guess I did. I was so mad for a moment. I shouldn't of. Mama always told me...

"...a lady who swears isn't much of a lady," Charlie finished.

The silence returned. Susan took her arms from Charlie's neck. He continued to sit, the Chinese Buddha. "How did you know that," Susan whispered. "I never told you that."

"That is right Miss Loy." Simon's head lolled up. A crack ran down where his head had slammed against the wall. His blue eyes locked onto Susan. "I'm afraid you have just demonstrated that this arrangement is not going to work."

"Simon," Charlie whispered, his eyes downcast. "Please, don't say that. We can work this. She can improve..."

"Don't be a fool, Charles." Simon's jar snapped with the force of a nutcracker. "She has demonstrated quite well that she is unsuitable."

"Unsuitable?" Susan realized that her voice seemed higher than usual. "Charlie, what are you doing?"

"Please...Simon..."

"Charles, this is not up for discussion. This has to end now. I insist."

"Charlie, what are you saying? What are you telling me?"

"Ok, Simon." Charlie lowered Simon onto the floor, propping his back against the wall. His body collapsed onto itself while his limbs splayed out, an ugly starfish of wood and clay. Charlie sat still and quiet, his head sunk down to his chest, his body tightly cocooned into a ball. Susan looked at the two of them, the shrieking of her nerves growing in strength, the combined screams of a hundred trains racing against time to the cliff wall that loomed ahead of them.

"Charlie?" she whispered.

The bigger body started to tremble, ever so slightly, invisible strings that jiggled to shake the body parts to which they were attached. A slight sound escaped from the head, a cat's meowling mixed with mournful snuffling of a dog. Susan scooted closer and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, her other hand clutching his which sat knotted and twisted on his knees. She could hear the sobs now, falling as softly as a December snow.

"Charlie, what's wrong? Come on, speak to me, baby."

A convulsion shook the body before the silent sobs began again. "I just thought..." a whisper floated toward her.

"What honey? You just thought what?"

"I...I thought that this time was...going to be different. I thought it was going to work."

Something gripped at Susan's chest, enclosing it in a vise, suffocating her breathing. A premonition loomed in her mind, black and grotesque. No, she wouldn't give in to the weakness; she wouldn't, she couldn't. Mama always said that a lady of character never let disappointment get her down. A lady had to be strong. That's what Mama...

Charlie's sobs were choked by a sputtering of low chuckles. Susan's arm started to unwrap itself from his shoulders, almost involuntarily. She forced it to stay where it was, as a jealous as a pride of lions in their kingdom. Every second was gold now.

"Charlie, are you saying that we're..."

The head, still bowed, bobbed. The vise clenched itself tighter around Susan's chest. She pulled her arms tighter around Charlie and sank her head down to his shoulders. From somewhere, down in the darkness, a string of words crawled up.

"...so sure it was going to work."

Susan felt the tears creak out of her eyes. "Me too," she stammered. "We're going to be ok though. We'll get through this. And..." she forced the words through the lock f her mouth, "I'll always be there for you if you need a friend."

Charlie looked up at her, his brilliant eyes filled with tears. His lips trembled. "No. No you won't."

Susan stared at him though the haze of salty mist. "What do you mean?"

"Now Charles!" Simon roared. "Do it now!"

Charlie's body unwound itself, a spring released from its cage. One hand clamped over Susan's mouth and the other shot itself at her throat. Her eyes bulged out. There was a roaring in her head, a scream to do something, anything. Her arms and legs took on a life of their own. She saw them from far away pummel Charlie's head, his body, his legs--anything and everywhere. They fell onto the floor. Charlie's legs pinned hers down, his knees bolting her thighs down to the floor. Her feet kicked to be free. Her eyes locked onto his face, two paths which her arms used to hit and hit and hit and hit....The grips didn't loosen...hit and hit and hit...his face seemed far away...she couldn't give up...he arms patted his face...couldn't give up...Mama always said something...Charlie's face disappeared into the mouth f blackness.

Charlie looked down at Susan's body. She almost looked like she was asleep. Just like in the good movies. His stomach heaved and he gulped down the air to force the dinner to stay down in the darkness of his belly.

"Come away, Charles," Simon ordered. "There nothing to look at anymore. Just a husk and a husk is hardly worth looking at."

Charlie turned, stooped down and picked up Simon, perching him on the crook of his arm as always. Simon turned his head to Charlie. The left eyebrow raised again. "Come, come," he chided, "there's no reason to cry over spilled milk."

"Do you have to talk like that," Charlie whispered through gritted teeth. "Don't you know how long I worked on this? How much I hoped for from this one? Where am I now? Square one! Again!" He threw himself upright onto the sofa, Susan laid out in front of him like a rug. "What am I going to do now, huh Simon? You're so smart, you tell me what I do now."

"That should be obvious. Start again."

The tears welled out of Charlie's eyes and fell freely onto his lap. "I don't want to. I wanted this to be the one."

"She's still out there, waiting for you to find her. And you're not going to find her unless you make an effort. Which is why, tomorrow, we're going back. She'll be there."

"I...I don't think that I want..."

"Charles. We're going to go back tomorrow. I won't take no for an answer."

Breaths, fluttering with the chaos of wounded birds, flew from Charlie's mouth and sputtered around his head. He nodded.

"Good," Simon said. His head swiveled to the body on the floor. "We shall have to take that back as well."

"That one didn't work for you either, did it?" The old woman clicked her teeth together in sympathy.

"No, not really," Charlie said. "I thought that she would. The profile started off great but the sketch started to resemble Audrey more than Katherine."

"Well, we'll just have to try again. The fifth time is the charm, they do say." The old woman picked up the mannequin and shuffled it back into the corner. On the right side of its head, in bright blue marker, was drawn a butterfly with yellow spots swirling in a spiral. The old woman scuttled back behind the counter, sagging with bundles of rotting magazines and children's books. "Go on up and find another one deary; you know where they are. Just bring it down when you're done and we'll get you set up."

Charlie looked at the fifth and latest mannequin, stretched out in the back of the van. This one had to be the one. Of course, it would take time to know for sure, but she was going to be a good one. Jackie was going to be perfect.

She smiled, slow and sensuous, an exotic flower opening itself to the first rays of the sun. "Hi," she purred. "And what was your name again, babe?"

Charlie felt the blush rise up to his cheeks. "My name is Charlie Bergan. And this," he motioned t the back of the van, "is Simon."

"Miss Welch," Simon said, his voice a kettle drum, "I know that we are going to get along splendidly."