Prelude to a Kiss Page #2

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first flush of love,

it seems like every aspect

of their personality-

their whole demeanor, the simple

lovely twist of their ear lobes,

and their marvelous

phone voice,

and their soft,

dark, wet... whatever...

is somehow imbued

with an extra push of color-

an intensity heretofore,

you know, unknown.

You want a Molson?

- You drink Molson?

- Uh -huh.

In your own home?

I've been known to.

So why can't you sleep?

I want to solve this.

I wasn't exaggerating.

It's been since I was 14.

Aha.

That's a lot

of journal - keeping.

# Every time #

# We say good-bye #

# I die a little #

Have you seen doctors?

I've seen all the doctors.

Uh-huh.

- Every known persuasion.

- Right.

- And I've in gested countless pills and liquids.

- Thank you.

I've seen an acupuncturist.

You did?

What did it feel like?

Little needles in your back.

- It hurt?

- Sometimes.

You're really beautiful.

You are.

Thank you.

That's, uh-

Thank you.

What do you do

for a living?

# There's no love song finer #

# But how strange the change #

# From major to minor #

I make little tiny transparent

photographs of scientific articles...

which are rolled onto strips

like microfilm, only smaller.

You'd... like it.

It's really interesting.

Do you see your family?

Your mom?

No.

Sometimes?

Never?

Nope.

Call them?

Uh-uh.

Do you miss them?

- Hey.

- Hey.

What's your dirtiest fantasy?

Excuse me?

You know, I thought you just said,

" What is my dirtiest fantasy".

What?

I can't. I'm sorry.

Come on.

No.

What's yours, though?

I'd be curious.

I asked you first.

Well, they change.

Sure.

What's one?

Well-

One...

Uh-huh.

might be that someone...

Uh-huh.

might sort of, just,

you know,

spontaneously start

crawling across the floor...

on their... hands and knees,

and more or less...

unzip me...

with their...

teeth.

I'd do that.

Christ.

Happiness.

- Are you?

- Uh-huh.

You are?

It's like a drug.

- It is a drug.

- Sex?

To snare us into mating.

I must be peaking then.

- You know, the body manufactures it.

- Uh-huh.

Like epinephrine,

or something.

Did I detect a note of cynicism

in your comment about mating?

Oh. No.

You don't like kids?

No.

I love them.

But you don't

want to have them?

No, I don't.

But-

- Why not?

- I just don't.

Your career?

What career?

No. I think kids are great.

I just don't think it's fair to raise

them in the world the way it is now.

Where else are you

going to raise them?

We're here.

Say.

Like the woman

in The White Hotel,

people really do struggle their

wholelives just to die in lime pits.

And not just in books.

Women... go blind...

from watching their children

being murdered.

Not in this country,

they don't.

They get shot on the sidewalk in front

of their houses in some drug war.

Just what happened to you- being

passed from one parent to the next-

I survived.

I'll be lying in bed late at night

and I'll look at the light in the room.

And I'll suddenly see it all

go upinablinding flash- in flames-

and I'm the only one left alive.

And I can't

look at you sitting there...

without imagining

you... dying-

bursting into flames.

No wonder you can't sleep.

The world

is a really terrible place.

It's too...

precarious.

And you want kids,

obviously.

I wish I could say I did.

It's okay.

We saw each other

every day for the next six weeks.

I'd stop by my apartment

every once in a while...

to see if the view out into

the air shaft had improved any.

But...

all my clothes had found their way

over to Rita's.

I told my parents

about you.

What did you tell them?

I said that you were

very considerate.

In what way?

I said, well-

I mean, we talk very frankly

about sex.

You and your parents?

I said that you always

brought protection.

You did not.

And that you were very attentive

to whether or not I had an orgasm.

This is such bullshit.

No, I said they should meet you.

What do you think?

Protection.

So are you free

this weekend?

Don't be nervous.

You told them about my family

and everything?

My mother.

- She knows the story?

- Mm-hmm.

They know

all about me?

Uh-huh.

Will you marry me?

Uh-huh.

You will?

No. Peter.

Hop to.

Oh.

Mom.

Nice to meet you.

Dad.

Dr. Boyle.

These are my parents.

So.

I understand you're a manager

in a publishing firm.

That's correct.

Yes.

That must be, uh-

- What kind of firm is it?

- Publishing.

What? Don't belittle me

in front of new people.

Be little?

Dad, please.

What kind of publishing firm is it,

I was asking.

It's, uh,

scientific publishing.

They publish scientific, uh,

publishing things.

Journals.

I knew I knew that.

You want a beer?

Sure.

In the morning, Rita?

Yes, Mother. We've been drinking

nonstop for weeks.

It's time

you knew this about us.

- I'll have one too then.

- Me too.

A bunch of lushes here, Rita.

You didn't tell me.

Oh, I can pull four wisdom teeth

on a fifth of Stoli.

- You can?

- He's teasing you.

Scien-

What kind of scientific?

Abstracting and indexing.

It's a service.

- Like a database?

- It is a database.

- It is a database. Covering?

- All kinds of fields.

- All kinds?

- Pretty much.

You know, everything from energy

to robotics- thank you-

to medical articles.

- So you are the manager?

- Of the fiche department.

- Microfiche?

- Right.

- Now, what is it?

- Microfiche.

It's like microfilm,

only smaller.

Aha.

Little film.

- All right, we approve.

- Daddy.

We're just

playing with you.

Maybe now

she'll get some sleep.

So, how long have

you two been going out?

Over a year now.

About that, year.

That's my first bull dog. Okay.

No! No! No!

Daddy, no!

Please.

If he's gonna be

in this family,

you ought

to see these guys.

You really should.

This monster I got when I was

an undergraduate at Virginia.

See his little tail?

I stood in front of the

mirror in their upstairs guest room...

Iooking out over the yard and the little

tent and the food which had been catered.

I felt a certain kinship

with these people-

the caterers.

Don't look.

It's badluck.

All right, I won't.

But wait, you don't

believe in that, do you?

- You looked.

- I won't look.

Now you've already cursed

the first 14 years of our marriage.

I love you.

What about when I'm a hundred years old

with a mustache and yellow teeth?

I'll still love you.

And I'm sagging down to here

and I'm bald?

I'll love you

all the more.

Are you sure?

Yes, I promise.

Oh, can't we ask one of the boys

in the neighborhood to do that?

I am one of the boys

in the neighborhood. What do you mean?

Let me get rid of these.

Okay.

Are you gonna

join the living?

Hmm?

- Well, hello.

- Too late.

Sorry, all done. You should have

spoken sooner.

You going for a walk?

See you all in a bit.

Now, there's nothing

to worry about.

This is a natural step

in life's plan.

Ah.

Like sliding

down a banister...

that turns

into a razor blade.

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