Marty Page #16

CLARA:

(deeply sympathetic)

Yes, I know.

MARTY:

I'm a Catholic, you know, and even

to think about suicide is a terrible

sin.

CLARA:

Yes, I know.

MARTY:

So then Mr. Gazzara -- he was a

frienda my father -- he offered me

this job in his butcher shop, and

everybody pleaded with me to take

it. So that's what happened. I didn't

wanna be a butcher.

CLARA:

There's nothing wrong with being a

butcher.

MARTY:

Well, I wouldn't call it an elegant

profession. It's in a lower social

scale. People look down on butchers.

CLARA:

I don't.

Marty looks quickly up at her, then back down.

MARTY:

Well, the point is Mr. Gazzara wantsa

sell his shop now, because he and

his wife are lonely, and they wanna

move out to California in Los Angeles

and live near their married daughter.

Because she's always writing them to

come out there. So it's a nice little

shop. I handle his books for him, so

I know he has a thirty-five percent

markup which is not unreasonable,

and he takes home net maybe a hundred,

hundred and fifty bucks a week. The

point is, of course, you gotta worry

about the supermarkets. There's two

inna neighborhood now, and there's

an A&P coming in, at least that's

the rumor. Of course, mosta his trade

is strictly Italian, but the younger

Italian girls, they get married, and

they don't stick to the old Italian

dishes so much. I mean, you gotta

take that into account too.

CLARA:

It's my feeling that you really want

to buy this shop, Marty.

MARTY:

That's true. I do. But I'm gonna

have to take outta loan inna bank

eight thousand dollars. That's a big

note to carry, because I have to

give Mr. Gazzara a mortgage, and

what I have to weigh is: will it pay

off in the end more than I can make

onna salary?

Clara looks down at her fingers, her face alive and sensitive.

She carefully assembles her words in her mind. Then she looks

at the squat butcher across the table from her.

CLARA:

Marty, I know you for three hours,

but I know you're a good butcher.

You're an intelligent, sensitive,

decent man. I have a feeling about

you like sometimes a kid comes in to

see me for one reason or another.

And some of these kids, Marty, in my

classes, they have so much warmth in

them, so much capacity. And that's

the feeling I get about you.

Marty shuts his eyes, then opens them quickly, bows his head.

CLARA:

If you were one of my students, I

would say, "Go ahead and buy the

butcher shop. You're a good butcher."

Clara pauses.

MARTY:

(not quite trusting

the timbre of his

voice)

Well, there's a lotta things I could

do with this shop. I could organize

my own supermarket. Get a buncha

neighborhood merchants together.

That's what a lotta them are doing.

He looks up at her now.

MARTY:

Wadda you think?

CLARA:

I think anything you want to do,

you'll do well.

Tears begin to flood his eyes again. He quickly looks away.

He licks his lips.

MARTY:

(still looking down)

I'm Catholic. Are you Catholic?

Clara looks down at her hands.

CLARA:

(also in a low voice)

Yes, I am.

Marty looks up at her.

MARTY:

I only got about three bucks on me

now, but I just live about eight

blocks from here on the other side

of Webster Avenue. Why don't we walk

back to my house? I'll run in, pick

up some dough, and let's step out

somewhere.

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