Next Stop, Greenwich Village Page #5

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- What are we gonna do?

- I don't know about you,

but I'm gonna get an abortion.

- It's too dangerous, Sarah.

- How much money you have?

I don't want you to go

to some butcher.

- I have about 100 dollars.

- Money is not the problem.

That man in the bar

said he knew somebody.

- Who, Barney? Forget it.

- Would you have a better idea?

Yes. We can get married.

- No.

- Why not?

Larry,

it's very sweet of you.

I mean, it really is, but...

I don't think we should get married.

I mean, we both don't know what

the hell we're doing anymore.

Oh, sh*t,

this is bad timing!

I should've gotten

the diaphragm a year ago.

- I didn't know you a year ago.

- Don't be silly.

I thought you weren't sleeping

with what's-his-name.

- You know his name.

- Ed, the painter.

The big, abstract Expressionist

from the postwar generation...

who was 20 years older

than your father.

- Screw you!

- I did. Look what happened.

You're not the first man

I ever slept with.

- You said you weren't sleeping with Ed.

- I lied.

- Why?

- Because it's what you wanted to hear!

- Who else?

- What's the difference?

We are talking about it,

and I would like to know.

You have wonderful timing.

You're the first woman

I ever got pregnant.

- Not the last.

- That's up to you.

I mean it.

Sarah, I'm willing to get married.

I want an abortion.

I really do, Larry.

I want an abortion.

I really do, Larry.

Okay.

Why didn't you wanna be

a doctor instead of an actor?

- You could've done the operation yourself.

- Sorry.

Yeah. I should've

listened to my mother.

I'll have to see you later.

Good-bye, cookie.

- Thanks for coming.

- "Can I see another's grief...

and not seek for kind relief?"

- [Connie] What a drag.

- Would you like anything?

- No, not for me, thanks.

- I would like a cappuccino...

- and some cookies.

- All right.

I remember

my first abortion.

I was 17.

Somebody sent me to a Haitian woman

in Brooklyn... Brooklyn Heights.

The first thing she asked me for

was to see "de" money.

[Haitian Accent] "When I see de money,

I give you de answer."

So, I let her see the money.

Then, as casually as you might ask the

time of day, she told me to wait outside.

- Fifteen minutes later, it was over.

- How was the girl?

- In pain.

- What are you, some kind of sadist?

I just want you to know what

you're not getting yourself into.

By the way, it's 400 dollars.

- [Haitian Accent] You want to see the money?

- No.

Is he a good doctor?

I mean, is he legitimate?

- He's a she.

- A woman doctor?

She's good.

- Did you have an affair with her?

- Of course.

Did you get her pregnant?

I mean, how apt, how perfect,

if she gave herself an abortion.

We'd better go.

- Let me know what happens.

- Yeah.

- I'll call you.

- Bye-bye, Connie.

[Foreign Accent]

I did not have an affair with her.

- You disappoint me, bubelah.

- [Door Opens]

- What's happening?

- I'm shopping for an abortion.

- [Meowing]

- Lucky girl.

[Meowing Continues]

Look what I found.

What are you

gonna call this one?

- Freud. Maybe it'll help.

- [Purring]

[Clicking Tongue]

I left home

after my first affair.

How old were you?

Nine and a half.

- Who did you have the affair with?

- My sister.

She was 19.

Ravishing beauty.

- She looked like Gene Tierney.

- Oh, I love Gene Tierney.

She looks like, uh,

a Chinese empress.

- You should have seen my sister.

- What happened to her?

She joined a Carmelite order,

became a nun.

- She's a nun.

- She was.

Two years ago,

she left the nunnery.

- Where is she now?

- She's in Paris.

She's a member of a bizarre

sadomasochistic, uh, sexual order.

Whips, chains, hot candles,

that sort of thing.

[Larry]

Mmm, sounds like a fun person.

[Door Closes]

Hello. I'm Mrs. Stanton.

Oh, Mrs. Stanton,

if you'll have a seat...

the doctor will be with you

in about 15 minutes.

Thank you very much.

- Who do you read?

- I don't know.

Mostly plays.

Shaw, Shakespeare,

O'Neill, Tolstoy, Faulkner...

- Read Joyce?

- Yeah.

- Eliot? Pound?

- No, haven't read Pound.

You should.

What do you think

of Dylan Thomas?

- He's a great outfielder.

- [Sighs]

He's a brilliant poet.

I've heard him read.

Read the poets.

It'll help you as an actor.

How'd you get to be so smart?

I left home when I was 15.

The rest is genetic.

Were you bar mitzvahed?

You're really funny.

[Speaking Foreign Language]

- It's amazing.

- [Door Opens]

- Thank you.

- Good-bye.

- How are you?

- Fine.

- Thank you, Marsha.

- Call me, Robert.

I will. Bye.

- Who's next?

- Mrs. Stanton.

- Mrs. Stanton. How are you?

- Okay, thanks.

- What happened?

- She gave me a shot to make me bleed.

If I bleed, she can do the abortion

in the hospital.

I have to do push-ups,

sit-ups, jumping, anything.

Then if I start bleeding, we call the

hospital, and we pretend we're married.

Gee, I don't think I can

pretend to be your husband.

Better learn

how to act, kiddo.

- Hi. How is she?

- Oh, she's fine.

- Thank you, Miss Sweezen.

- You're welcome, Doctor.

I'd like to thank you

for what you did.

Well, I'd love to deliver a baby

for you and Sarah someday.

Well, maybe we'll be calling you.

Can I see her?

Yeah. She's still groggy,

but you can go in.

- Okay, thanks.

- Uh, give my regards to Robert.

- I will. Bye.

- Thanks.

- Hiya, cookie.

- Hi.

- So, how was it?

- The operation was a success.

- What time is it?

- It's about 4:
30.

[Sighs]

I've gotta call my mother.

I just called Connie.

She knows what to do.

Mommy? Hi.

No, I'm at Connie's place.

No, I'm eating

dinner here.

I know. I should've called you.

I'm sorry.

Listen, I'm gonna

spend the night here, okay?

She has a... a sleep-away bed.

Yeah.

No, just the two of us.

No men.

Mother, I'm gonna spend the night

at my friend Connie's.

What is the big deal?

Look, I'll come home

right after work tomorrow.

Fine.

Say good-bye to Daddy for me,

will you?

Bye.

[Kisses]

Are you sure

Connie knows what to do?

She knows what to do.

So, how are you, kid?

Strange. Grown up.

Old.

Oh, it's the anesthesia.

Hey, Blanche, baby, I finally

got you into the sack, huh, Blanche?

Excuse me, Mr. Lapinsky. I really think you

ought to let your wife get a little rest now.

I'll see you in the morning.

Bye, Larry.

- ####[Jazz]

- [People Chattering]

Hello, bubelah.

How are you?

I'm getting married!

Goodness gracious.

Heavens to Betsy.

He's fantastic.

He's tall, blond.

Not an intellectual,

not a poet, not a painter.

- A Communist?

- He's a sailor.

- Are you kidding?

- No.

He's in the merchant marines.

He had to go to sea

for a month.

That's why he's not here tonight.

Marseilles and back.

- He makes a lot of money.

- When did you meet him?

Last Thursday. We spent a week

in bed. Last night he proposed.

[Sighs]

His name is...

Timmy.

I love him madly.

Oh! Anita's marrying

a sailor.

I sold a poem

to The Swannee Review.

- Oh.

- Tell me about your sailor.

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