No Doors, No Windows

Two: Eddie, You’re My Friend

Eddie, you’re my friend, ain’t you?

I mean, it’s been a long time, and we’ve been through a lot of bad shit together, a lot of stuff most guys wouldn’t share, even with a buddy, the way we did. I’m not mad, honest to God, Eddie. You got to believe me. I know you’re my friend; hell, I come to you without even thinking about it, you know? I just said to myself, “Eddie is the one guy who can help me out of all this,” so I just come on over.

You’re all alone, ain’t you?

That’s real good. I wouldn’t want to talk like this if Bernice was around. It’s pretty embarrassing, you know.… Mostly I’m embarrassed because today is Bernice’s and my third anniversary, and I feel really wiped out. With this rain and all that thunder and everything; you know how rain depresses me. It always did.

Like when we were kids and I’d be real down on a day like this and you’d come over and we’d lay around and read all those comic books. And we were so impressed by Plastic Man and Superman and all those other characters that we used to take bath towels and put a big black letter on them with Crayola, and then get one of those little Halloween masks that cover your eyes and your nose, and then we’d go running around the neighborhood pretending we were avengers of justice and stuff. You remember that, don’t you, Eddie?

Hell, we were tight friends even back then!

Sure you remember. It was a day all rainy like today, back on the old block, and we were calling ourselves the Krime Kracker Kids — you know, with all K’s — and we caught Johnny Mummey, the fireman’s kid, and shoved him off his garage roof because he broke some milk bottles on my back porch? Remember?

It was just like today. And boy! Did I get beat up for that. It was terrible. Teddy Mummey caught me the next day in the playground and whipped me bad for racking up his kid brother. He said it was you told him I was the one did it. And you watched him beat the crap outta me. Come on, you gotta remember that. I was kept indoors for a week.

Sore? Hell no, you were my friend … you were my best friend, even then. I knew you only did it because you had to. I never got sore at you, Eddie. That’d of been foolish, to get P.O.’d at a buddy. Your friendship meant more than a lousy week in the house or a busted snot-locker.

But those were cool times, back the old days.

Or — man, you must remember this — the time I threw that party, and hell, nobody dug me too much then, because I got to admit it, I was pretty much of a turkey even then, and you said you were coming, and nobody showed and I had all that cake and stuff all ready, and had to throw it out. You remember, it was a Valentine’s Day or something like that. I was racked, Eddie man. Real laid out. I wanted that party like crazy, you know.

Oh hell, I got a strange memory. I remember all those times we were together. The time at State when we both went out for that frat and I didn’t get it, but you did, because somebody told the committee I was Jewish. You know. That was a blast, too. But, hell, those things happen.

But I remember how we were good buddies even then, Eddie. I mean, like if I came to you, we’d do our themes together, and I’d take those great cool ideas of yours and write them up and we’d both have final themes to hand in. Only that once we got stuck, but at least you got out of it, when the Prof asked who’d copied whose, and he picked me. What did he say to you when he had you alone in that office? Boy, he knew it was me right off. I’ve always thought about that; but I couldn’t figure how that teacher — what was his name … oh yeah, old Mastermans — how Professor Mastermans knew I’d been doing the copying. It wasn’t exactly true, but better just me getting bounced outta school than both of us, right? Hell, that wouldn’t of done no good, both of us getting canned.

The way it turned out, that was the best thing ever happened to me. I mean, I got out and hadda start looking around for a job, and finally took my horn and got with the combo, and that was the start of my career. You know, Eddie, it was like it was supposed to’ve happened that way. Kismet, right?

Then when you graduated it was a natural for you to come on the combo with me, and be the business manager. I mean, I knew you needed a job — Christ, those were rough days for finding work, what with all them vets from the Nam climbing over each other trying to find slots — and I was glad to give you a hand for a change, when you needed it, and it could help.

That’s what friends do for friends, ain’t it?

Lucky we stuck together when the combo flopped, because you had quite a bit of dough saved. No, hell, I never paid any attention to what those other four creeps in the group said about mismanagement of funds and all that crap. What the hell did they know about friendship, right? You did a great job. You wouldn’t never shaft a buddy, I knew that.

Anyhow, it was for the best. I got in with Larry in the big time, and there we were, you my manager and all, just doing great, hanging tough; and I’ve never thought thirty per cent was a big enough cut for the way you pushed me. With solos and all like that. And then TV and that contract with Columbia and the flick we made. I mean, that was the greatest.

Then Bernice came along, and we got hitched, and it was all solid, man. I mean, she was just about all of it to me.

Sore? Hell no, I’ve told you a couple times I’m not sore. I mean, Bernice just couldn’t take me. The only thing is, after three years being married to one chick, you sort of get the blues when she goes over to someone else. I know you didn’t encourage her, Eddie. I mean, you’re my friend. It’s just that — well — you know, like she was the whole world for me. And when she decided she wanted a divorce so’s you two could get hitched, well, it kind of laid me back for good.

That’s why I came over here tonight.

You sure you’re alone, man?

Yeah. Well, like I haven’t got the horn in this case, y’know. Here, see, it’s this gun. Like I borrowed it from Stacey. You know Stacey. He’s the one with the spike, like he’s second trom.

Yeah. I want you to do me a favor.

Huh? Kill you? No, man, you don’t get it. Like, I know you’re my friend, and if I needed a favor you’d come by me and lay it on me. That’s why I brought up this gun. No, man, stop that jazz. I ain’t going to blow a hole in you. I want you to help me. I sort of found out I’m a really weak character, Eddie, and you’re stronger than me, and I wrote this good note here, see, and it’s got everything written right down in black and white, and I got my accounts all squared away so’s Bernice gets it all when I go.

I mean, you wear these gloves I brought along, wait a minute, I got ’em right here in my jacket pocket. Here. See? And when I’m down, you just stick the gun in my hand like I done it myself, no fingerprints. I mean, you got to help, Eddie. Like the guy at the used car joint says, “Let me work with you on this thing.”

I got to have someone help me, Eddie.

Without her, I’m nothing, just useless shit.

So I come to you. You’ll do it, won’t you?

I mean, Eddie, you’re my friend, ain’t you?