of his lover's delightful eccentricities. But as the seat of a marriage, and a place to raise a child, it was, in his often-voiced opinion, a giant pain in the ass.
'Refinishing isn't going to do any good. The damn floor's sagging all over the place. It's probably totally rotted out underneath.'
'Okay, we'll replace the fucking floor! Why are you hocking me about the floor? Why now?' A flush had appeared across her famous cheekbones and she took another swallow of wine. Then she looked at her husband narrowly. He met her gaze for an instant and then glanced away.
'Because,' said Karp, 'we have to make some decisions. How long are we going to keep pouring money into this place? I mean, is this it? We're going to live here forever?'
Marlene wasn't listening. She was still staring at him and the expression on her face was not pleasant.
'What?' said Karp.
'You rat! This isn't about the floor, or Lucy, or how hard I work. They offered you a job in Philly and you want to take it and move and you're afraid to just come out and say it.'
Karp felt his face steam in embarrassment. A denial sprang to his lips, but, to his credit, he suppressed it. He was a rat.
'Well?' pressed his wife. 'Did they?'
He nodded.
'And you want to take it.'
He nodded again.
'Christ! What I hate is having to worm stuff like this out of you like you were a little boy. Why don't you just come up to me like a real person and talk about it?'
'I don't know,' answered Karp, meaning that he did know. 'I guess… avoiding. I really started wanting this and I knew there was going to be an incredible explosion when I told you and I was just easing into it. I'm just basically slimy that way.'
'I'll say! So spit it out already. What is it, a glossy partnership with the white shoes, down in Philly there?'
'No. It's a government job. In D.C.'
'Huh? Schmuck! Darling! You already got a government job. What, you just developed a sudden interest in federal crimes?'
'No, it's with a congressional committee, working for Bert Crane. The House is reopening the Kennedy assassination case and they want me to be in charge of it, Crane does.'
Marlene was sipping at her wine when this emerged and her snort of amazement sprayed a purple mist over the nearby area, including Karp.
'I'm sorry!' she sputtered. 'That was unexpected. Let me hear that again: they want you to find out who killed Kennedy?'
'Yeah. What's wrong with that?'
'It's looney's what's wrong with it,' she laughed. 'I mean, I knew you were a caped crusader, but…'
'Marlene,' said Karp, his tone strict, 'it's a serious investigation: A lot of new stuff has come up.'
'Oh, yeah? Like what?' She waited. After a silence and some uncharacteristic fumfering by Karp, she added confidently, 'They didn't tell you, did they? They sold you a pig in a poke. And you bought it.' She struck her forehead to indicate the extent of her amazement.
'I can't believe it! Especially you. Jesus, Butch! It's like some mutt said, 'Hey, let me walk on this one and I'll give you Mr. Big,' and you let him walk and then you called him up, hey, Mr. Mutt, how's about coming down and talking about Mr. Big?'
'Bert Crane isn't a mutt, for Chrissake, Marlene!'
'No, he's a lawyer,' Marlene shot back. 'I rest my case.'
They glared at each other for an uncomfortable few seconds. Then Marlene rose and went to her closet, where she shed her working outfit and put on a T-shirt and Osh-Kosh overalls and flip-flops. Then she began putting together a meal. Karp drifted into the kitchen. Wordlessly she put on the butcher block in front of him a tin colander loaded with washed salad ingredients. Karp got a salad bowl and tore and cut the vegetables into bits. Marlene threw a mystery casserole into the oven.
They ate a silent meal. Marlene put the little espresso maker on the stove. They listened to it hiss. Then they both said 'Look' simultaneously, which made them smile.
Karp said, 'Your 'look' first.'
'Okay, look… I'm sorry. I'm sure what's-his-name thinks it's a great honor to get picked for this job, and maybe you do too. I shouldn't have pissed all over it like I did. But… we got to work stuff out like this together, Butchie, like a team. We got to think it through together, the pros and cons, for all three of us, what's best-you know? That's all I'm saying.'
'Okay,' said Karp. 'I should've been straight about it. I'm a cryptic son of a bitch, all right? But… if what Crane suggested to me checks out, if we could really crack the assassination…' He waved his hands, speechless before the magnitude of those 'ifs.'
'Big time, huh?'
'Not just 'big time.' If you want to know, it's mainly not working for the clown anymore. It's eating me up. Crane's a real guy. It'd be like Garrahy again.'
Marlene took the little silvery pot off the stove and poured herself two ounces of tarry liquid into a squat clear glass cup. She put half a cube of sugar into her mouth and slurped the coffee past it until the sugar was all gone.
'Well. You shouldn't be eaten up. Except by me, of course.' She smiled, faintly, not the real Marlene thousand-watt room-lighter, but a smile, and welcome.
'I haven't said I would yet, Marlene,' Karp said, smiling back. 'It's still not a done deal.'
'I see in your eyes it's a done deal, babe. You want it, you oughta go for it.'
He reached across the table and grasped her hand. 'Okay. That's good. I'll call him tomorrow and tell him we're coming. It'll be okay, Marlene. Moving-it's not the end of the universe or anything.'
'No, 'cause I'm not moving.'
He cocked his head as if he hadn't heard her. 'What?'
'What I said. Go do it! I'll keep a candle burning in our little home against your return. I mean, how long can it take, solve the crime of the century? For you? Couple of weeks, tops.'
'Marlene, this is serious…'
'Yeah, you keep telling me. I'll tell you what else is serious. Ripping our life apart is serious. Dumping my career. Taking Lucy away from her grandparents and everybody she knows. Leaving our home. Serious stuff, and what's the most serious is that I can tell you haven't thought much about it. You hear crime of the century and Bert Crane, another solution to your perpetual lost-father complex, and you're off and running, and let old Marlene deal with the little details.'
'That isn't fair, Marlene.'
'No, you're right, it isn't. How about you springing this shit on me? Hey, babe, I got a job in D.C., pack it up! That's fair? Look-you can't stand working for Bloom? Fine! There's four other DAs in the city, plus two federal prosecutors, and half a dozen other county prosecutors within commuting distance. Not to mention, I hear there's one or two private law firms in New York. I don't recall you beating on those doors, you can't stand another minute of Bloom.'
Karp stood up abruptly and walked a distance away from her, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. He was angrier with her than he'd been in a good while. It was the sort of rage we experience when we have been selfish under the guise of some pretended generosity, and have been found out. Naturally, what he said then was, 'You're really being selfish, Marlene.'
She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, took a breath instead, and knocked back the rest of her wine. 'I'm going to bed,' she said, and walked off.
'We haven't finished this, Marlene,' said Karp.
She stopped and turned. There were tears in her eyes but her voice was steady. 'No, but in a minute you're going to bit me with 'A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.' And I agree. A man's gotta. But a woman doesn't, and neither does a little kid. Don't forget to write.'
