Free Women by Charles Bukowski Page A

or three or four young girls. Every boat stank of dope and booze and lechery. It was wonderful!”
    “That does sound good. I wish I had your knack of turning up interesting people.”
    “You can go tomorrow. You can ride all day for a dollar.”
    “I’ll pass.”
    “Did you write today?”
    “A little.”
    “Was it good?”
    “You never know until 18 days later.”
    Dee Dee went over and looked at the love birds, talked to them. She was a good woman. I liked her. She was really concerned about me, she wanted me to do well, she wanted me to write well, she wanted me to fuck well, look well. I could feel it. It was fine. Maybe we could fly to Hawaii together some day. I walked up behind her and kissed her on the right ear, down by the lobe.
    “Oh, Hank,” she said.
    Back in L.A., after our week in Catalina, we were sitting around my place one evening, which was unusual. It was late at night. We were lying on my bed, naked, when the phone rang in the next room.
    It was Lydia.
    “Hank?”
    “Yes?”
    “Where’ve you been?”
    “Catalina.”
    “With her?”
    “Yes.”
    “Listen, after you told me about her I got mad. I had an affair. It was with a homosexual. It was awful.”
    “I’ve missed you, Lydia.”
    “I want to come back to L.A.”
    “That’d be good.”
    “If I come back will you give her up?”
    “She’s a good woman, but if you come back I’ll give her up.”
    “I’m coming back. I love you, old man.”
    “I love you too.”
    We went on talking. I don’t know how long we talked. When it was over I walked back into the bedroom. Dee Dee seemed asleep. “Dee Dee?” I asked. I lifted one of her arms. It felt very limp. The flesh felt like rubber. “Stop joking, Dee Dee, I know you’re not asleep.” She didn’t move. I looked around and noticed her bottle of sleeping pills was empty. It had been full. I had tried those pills. Just one of them put you to sleep, only it was more like being knocked out and buried underground.
    “You took the pills. . . .”
    “I . . . don’t . . . care . . . you’re going back to her … I don’t . . . care. . . .”
    I ran into the kitchen and got the dishpan, came back and placed it on the floor by the bed. Then I pulled Dee Dee’s head and shoulders over the edge and stuck my fingers down her throat. She vomited. I lifted her up and let her breathe a moment, then repeated the process. I did it again and again. Dee Dee kept vomiting. Once, as I lifted her up, her teeth popped out. They lay there on the sheet, uppers and lowers.
    “Oooh . . . my teeth,” she said. Or tried to say.
    “Don’t worry about your teeth.”
    I stuck my fingers down her throat again. Then I pulled her back.
    “I don’,” she said, “wans ya to seee my teethhhs. . . .”
    “They’re all right, Dee Dee. They’re really not bad.”
    “Ooooh …”
    She revived long enough to put her teeth back in. “Take me home,” she said, “I want to go home.”
    “I’ll stay with you. I won’t leave you alone tonight.” “But you will leave me, finally?” “Let’s get dressed,” I said.
    Valentino would have kept both Lydia and Dee Dee. That’s why he died so young.
    20
    Lydia returned and found a nice apartment in the Burbank area. She seemed to care a lot more for me than before we parted. “My husband had this big cock and that’s all he had. He had no personality, no vibes. Just a big cock and he thought that was all he had to have. But Christ he was dull! With you, I keep getting vibes . . . this electric feedback, it never stops.” We were on the bed together.
    “And I didn’t even know he had a big cock because his cock was the first one I had ever seen.” She was examining me closely. “I thought they were all like that.”
    “Lydia …”
    “What is it?”
    “I’ve got to tell you something.”
    “What is it?”
    “I’ve got to go see Dee Dee.”
    “Go see Dee Dee?”
    “Don’t be funny. There’s a reason.”
    “You said it was all