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The
Witches of Eastwick
"Just
back off Fidel!" Alexandra ordered urgently as she scuffled toward
the stairs, her shoes making skidding sounds on the floor.
She stomped up the stairs, yelling "Daryl!
Daryl!"
Daryl was busy doing the ironing at the
foot of the stairs while an episode of The Price Is Right played on the
television. A half-eaten sandwich and an empty bag of chips sat on the
steps by the TV, while a crumpled Pepsi can sat lopsided in a coffee cup
one step down.
Daryl sprayed his shirts with far too much
water and roughly ironed it, hunched over like an old crone.
"Daryl!" Alexandra called, her
voice echoing throughout the cathedral-sized room.
Daryl looked over his shoulder while continuing
his ironing. "Alex?" he called back, seeming not to believe
that it was actually her.
"Don't 'Alex" me!" she said,
as if scolding a small child.
"What a nice surprise," Daryl
grumbled sarcastically. "How are you?"
"What the hell do you think you're
doing?"
Daryl continued smoothing the iron over
the damp shirt while glaring at her under his eyebrows.
"I said: What the hell do you think
you're doing?"
"Just doing a little housework. I send
these shirts out and they come back in pieces," he said. "Small
town. Not enough Orienatals. Fidel's all thumbs with this kind of thing.
That just leaves little old me."
"I'm not talking about you're god damned
laundry. I'm talking about Sukie and Jane and me."
Daryl glared at her for a brief moment before
looking at The Price Is Right again. "Golly. You girls sure are having
a hard time, aren't you?" He sounded like a dirty old pervert, getting
off on the misery of others.
Before he even finished speaking, Alexandra
marched over and switched off the television, then turned to look at him.
"Sukie is very ill."
Daryl stared at her for a long moment.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear it," he said, as if denying responsibility.
Alexandra had already lost patience with
him before she'd ever arrived. Now she seemed to be expending a lot of
effort just on self-control. "Alright, then do something about it!"
"Me? What can I do about it? It doesn't
have anything to do with me anymore, does it?"
"Yeah, it does, and you know it does!"
"No, I don't," he insisted, growing
angry and glaring at her again. "All I know is we were friends and
the next day I was shut out. That's all I know. One minute I was the answer
to your prayers, and five minutes later, you wouldn't give me the time
of day."
"Sukie could die!" Alexandra screamed.
"Don't you understand that?!"
"I can't help it."
"Yes, you can. Don't lie to me, Daryl."
"You deserted me. We had a deal."
"That's no reason --"
He cut her off. "Yes, it is! You pissed
me off!" he yelled. "What was I supposed to do? Take it like
a man? Christ! I gave you everything I got! I gave you more than anybody
ever has and what do I get in exchange? A little thank you? A little gratitude?
I'll tell you what I get! I get screwed!"
"Oh, cut the crap, okay?" Alexandra
retaliated. "Just tell me. What do you want from us?"
Daryl suddenly broke into a rage. He angrily
picked up the ironing board and flung it over his shoulder. The ironing
board, shirts and iron slid halfway across the floor with a hiss, the
iron yanked from its extension cord. "I want somebody to do these
shirts, that's what I want! I want somebody to pay a little attention
to me! I want a little respect! I want somebody to take care of me for
a change! Ha! How about that?! What do I want? Christ!"
Just as it seemed Daryl's fury couldn't
grow any stronger, it did. He suddenly broke out into some deranged, catatonic
temper tantrum, stomping around in a circle like a psychotic toy soldier,
screaming at the top of his lungs. "What does any man want?"
Then, as if begging for it, he said, "A little affection. A little
trust. God damn it. Everything I did...I did for you."
Daryl paused, looking for a reaction from Alexandra
that didn't come. "Well, I was wrong. Go ahead. Go on! Go back to
your miserable little life. Fuck me if I care! That's what you want; that's
what you'll get. You are not the only three women in the world, you know."
"You're hurting people, Daryl. That
stuff you did for us, it was great. But you can't use your power to hurt
people. Don't you understand that?"
Daryl didn't look as if he understood. He
looked like a man who was used to getting what he wanted, using whatever
means necessary. "No, I want my family back together, that's all.
You, and Sukie, and Jane. I couldn't hurt Sukie. I couldn't hurt any of
you. How could I? I love you."
"You don't even know what love is,"
Alexandra said softly.
"I could learn. You could teach me.
How hard can it be?"
Alexandra stared back at him, looking as
if there was no hope for such a man.
Daryl's attitude softened, speaking now
like a man who knows what has to be, who knows there's unfortunately no
other way. "Oh, Alex, let's not fight. You can't win. There's no
way you can win. There just isn't, and there's nothing to go back to if
you could win. Can't we just put this behind us and be friends?"
Daryl took her hand and drew close to her, kissed her on the cheek, then
on her lips. "See? Isn't that nice?"
Alexandra nodded in a meek agreement as
Daryl's spell worked its magic.
"Tell me the truth," Daryl said
somewhat playfully. "You missed me a little bit, didn't you?"
She nodded meekly again. "Yeah, I have."
"So let's kiss and make it better.
What do you say?"
The two embraced each other. "What
are we going to do with you?" Alexandra said.
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