-Betty Smith
A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN
The Beginnings – Part 81: FORTY WHACKS
Saturday, September 3, 1983
On this pleasant Saturday morning George and I went to the San Jose Flea Market. It was interesting and ‘kind of fun’. George bought a few things. I didn’t buy anything. That’s okay because I am low on funds.
Tonight George and I have made plans for dinner at a place called NEON’s (or something like that). After the dinner I plan to drive back to Alameda. I had hoped to start moving some of George’s ‘stuff’ to the Townhouse but it looks like it will be more of a money-saver if he moves-in on Monday as he plans to borrow his step-father’s truck. I am still waiting for George to access some extra boxes from WHEREHOUSE RECORDS.
George suddenly reacted in a very bad mood. I found out that he was upset because he learned that he couldn’t get a hold of some stock investment proceeds (for some extra cash flow) for another four months.
I said, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“It’s just that I’m financially unstable in terms of moving-in right now.”
I think he wanted me to front him some cash even though he didn’t outright ask me.
George continued, “It’s really a leery situation with your womanizing.”
That statement really upset me. Suddenly, it all came out that he had made a big decision.
“I’m not going to move-in with you.”
His statement got me quite disgruntled.
It was around the time of this revelation that Kevin called to invite us out for lunch.
I agreed to the outing and then the tension began to build and I finally called Kevin while George was in the shower and said, “I think we’re going to pass on the lunch. We just have a lot going on right now.”
When George came out of the shower I said, “I cancelled the lunch. I’m just going to leave now.”
George said, “I predicted you were going to say that.”
“Yeah, I just need to go.”
I arrived home and assemble my lamp. My folks stopped by for a while. Dad is doing such a good job on the screwed up wall where all of that ugly wood paneling had been.
Later I chose to give George a call by phone.
George confessed, “You know…there are some other financial problems that I really didn’t want to discuss.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Well, there are a couple of returned checks from ALPHA BETA and REGAL Shoes that I’m dealing with.”
“That’s a pain.”
“Yes, didn’t you see the letter on the table?”
I answered, “No.”
I actually had seen a collection notice due from him for sixteen dollars. I didn’t let on that I had seen it.
He said, “I have this collection notice for sixty-eight dollars.”
I thought, “What a liar—as far as the amount.”
I couldn’t help but feel like he was hoping I would say, “Don’t worry…I’ll pay it off for you.”
I didn’t say that. I hung-up the phone after he gave me these additional excuses about not moving-in with me.
After I hung-up the phone I began to really wonder if he actually did go out with his Grandmother and Uncle on Friday night. I had the feeling that he went out with Rob, a twenty-six year old Stanford University fellow. George strategically left a note from Rob on the table as well. Rob wrote something like this:
George,
Good luck as you enter a new direction. If only we’d met before this because I really like you. You’re a special guy…
Rob.
I did ask George, “So…what are you doing tonight?”
“I’m just going out with Kevin, Dan, Ken and Richie.”
“Richie?”
“He’s my cousin.”
I later learned that Kevin spent the night with George. They’re just friends, so I didn’t give it a second thought.
I ended up sleeping with Lizzie Borden on TV as I watched the TV movie starring Elizabeth Montgomery. As I watched the story I wondered whether or not George deserved forty whacks himself as per the Lizzie Borden nursery rhyme:
LIZZIE BORDEN TOOK AN AXE, AND GAVE HER MOTHER FORTY WHACKS
WHEN HER MOTHER HIT THE FLOOR SHE GAVE HER FATHER FORTY MORE.
I was still foolishly thinking and wishing George would move-in with me.
He ate slowly, suspending each forkful in the air and examining it to be certain of its perfection. He didn’t demand perfection…he simply expected it.
-Joanna Scott, MAKE BELIEVE
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