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"We don't want you to find out through tomorrow's paper."
The receiver slips off her hand. She thinks she's screaming but no voice comes out of her mouth as she clutches her stomach with a sinking feeling. The person from the other line might still be speaking but she couldn't be able to reach it because her whole body stills.
And when motion returns to her body, tremor takes over.
Gravity pulls her down until she's on the ground on her knees, feeling like someone had just pulled her heart out of her chest.
Her palm comes up to her mouth as she refrains herself from throwing up while the world shatters around her. Silent sobs escapes her as she holds onto the ground.
Her telephone bill has definitely skyrocketed thanks to one Lenny Bruce.
“Wow, what time is it now?” he asks. “You’re not tired?”
She shrugs, even though he can’t see that. “I’m flipping my magazine right now as we speak. Ooh, there’s an article about feminism.”
“New Politics magazine?”
“Cosmopolitan, actually.”
“You know, I can’t say I’m surprised actually.”
“Also, to answer your previous question…” She checks her clock. “Oh my God, it’s four in the morning.”
“Really?”
“Why is it that every time we’re talking on the phone, it goes on for at least six hours?”
“Beats me. I asked you how you were and next thing I knew, we were debating about which Beatle would survive the apocalypse.”
“I stand my ground with Ringo.”
“But we can both agree it’s George.”
She scoffs while he laughs. “Don’t make me repeat my reason.”
“Then I’ll have to repeat my rebuttal.”
”Anyone ever told you how frustrating you are?”
”That’s part of my charm, ma’am.”
When tears finally filled her eyes, it never stopped. Until now, it hasn’t stopped. She’s surprised she has any liquid left in her body.
Thank God Susie has a copy of her key. When her friend burst through the door earlier, she was lying on the ground while hoping the floor would open up to swallow her whole.
Susie's arms are wrapped around her as she sobs. She sobs and sobs until her lungs constrain, until she gasps out for air, until she loses her voice, until she drowns.
She's crying but there's something else that's consuming her every nerve. Anger and frustration well up her chest at all the should-haves and the could-haves and the what-ifs. There's nothing she can do. She can't bring him back but—
"I s-should have known," she says between gasps. "I should have said s-something. I could have—I could’ve helped. Then he wouldn't have... He wouldn't have been..."
Susie gently shushes her and caresses Midge's hair. "He knew. He wouldn't want you to know either."
"But—"
"He wouldn't want you to worry."
His voice echoes in her head.
I would do everything in my power to make you feel better.
She sobs again while Susie holds her close.
Hearing his groggy voice makes her feel relieved. "Hello?"
"Hey," she says, biting her nail. "Did I wake you?"
He laughs, but not the lighthearted ones that sound like music to her ear. This laugh is low and jaded. "No. I haven't had much sleep."
She plops on her bed. "What were you doing?"
"Ah, nothing that concerns you," he says lightly. "Probably too blue for you."
She twirls with the telephone cord and bites her lip. "Do you even know who you're speaking to? I see someone doesn't remember my act."
"Excuse me, can’t a guy try to be a gentleman?”
"You're speaking to a divorcée. I can handle you telling me you were stroking your cock."
He barks out a laugh. "What are you doing up around this hour anyway? It's late."
"Thought you needed company," she says, biting the nail of her thumb. "You should know I'll always be here."
"Oh yeah? A company huh? I was about to call a hooker but since you're here now..."
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, her lips still smiling. "My rate might be higher though, sir."
"Do you take weed as payment?"
Typical Lenny, making her smile. “I’m a high demanding one, ya know?”
“Maybe I could ask a friend of mine to pay for me. Apparently she’s going to host her own television show like Johnny Carson does.”
Her palm goes up to her face. Fuck, she almost forgot about that. "Fuck, you heard about that."
"I can't believe I had to find out on the paper! I'm offended, Miriam."
"I thought I could tell you face to face. I was about to book a plane ticket to LA to see you but, yeah, I still have gigs. I'm sorry."
"And you didn't tell me on the phone either?" he asks playfully.
"Completely forgot. You know I tell you everything so it must have completely slipped my mind if I didn't even tell you."
"We need to celebrate though. I think I can head over there this weekend?"
Tears well up her eyes, already unable to wait to see him again. "You could come to my show? I'll be performing at Upstairs at Downstairs."
"Look at you! All booked and busy, huh?"
"Hey, I have my mentor here navigating me through this career. How do I ever repay you?"
"Think you could save me a seat when you're on the stage accepting awards? I would even put on a fancy bow tie. I have a feeling you would be nominated for some fancy awards here and there."
She sips her drink and grins. "Tell you what. If I get nominated, you could be my date."
"That would be the greatest honor."
"Great, it's a date."
She rivets her eyes on the yellow telephone next to the pink personalized apothecary box. Waiting and waiting and waiting.
It doesn’t ring. It’s almost six in the morning and it never rings.
This is the fourth day since that telephone call that left her paralyzed but she still waits by the telephone every night anyway, hoping maybe it will ring. He usually calls her around this time. It could ring and everything that happened these past few days had just been a terrible nightmare.
She grabs the telephone and picks up the receiver, dialing the number she has already memorized, leaving an indent in her brain. It sounds like it’s ringing as she waits with a bated breath.
Long beep comes on.
She reluctantly puts down the telephone and waits until the morning sun rises before she sleeps.
In the afternoon, she tries again. She fidgets with the telephone cord.
This time someone picks up the call. Her heart almost stops when she hears someone breathing.
She draws an audible breath as hope glimmers. Could it be—
A man’s voice starts speaking. “Hello? Who’s this?”
She immediately hangs up and struggles to breathe.
That room is already occupied by someone else. The same room where they found… him.
It all suddenly feels too real.
"I can't believe my mother was right," she says as she meticulously paints her toenails red. "I've gone through a series of breakups and headaches."
"Not a heartache?"
She snorts. "Nope. Just headaches. Dating is already exhausting. Add up with breakups? My head keeps spinning."
"Plus, divorces are just plain messy."
She hums in agreement. "That's true. Divorces when kids are involved?"
He groans. "The worst."
She blows on the nail polish.
"I know I was also at fault for my divorce. Other than my affair, there's my jealousy. I really thought it would be easy and she would quit being a stripper." As if he could sense her reaction from her silence, he adds, "Thought that was given. I know, I know. I'm a schmuck."
God, she really knows how to pick them, huh? "You said it, not me."
He chuckles, sounding out of breath. Like he’s moving right now. Walking, running, jumping. "Yeah. God, I just realized I sound like your ex-husband. Not being supportive and cheating and fucknots. Although Honey isn't anything like you."
"Hey, don't talk shit about her," she chides with a frown.
"I'm not! You know I loved her. I did. But I'm saying that..." He heaves a sigh. "No one can compare to you. You're perfect, Midge. Joel really blew it."
Blood rises to her face.
"But yeah, anyway. Before I made you even a bigger monster because God knows how many compliments you've heard..."
She snickers.
"You know, after—Okay, I'm about to sound disgusting. After the string of women I've been with—"
"Don't worry, I've had my string of men too."
"Shut up, I'm talking about me."
“Fine, fine, go on.”
"As I was saying, after I've had my share of bedfellows—" That makes her roll her eyes. "I don't know if I believe in anything anymore. You know what I mean? Like love. I feel like love is such bullshit now."
She nods even though he can't see her right now.
"People always leave," he says, quietly this time. Sounds like he has stopped moving now. "I just don't see the point anymore. Even my father—Shit, we're getting personal now. But even my father leaves, you know? He left me. He left m-my mother. As people say, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."
It's at that moment Midge realizes that even after all the drinks, dances, and complaints about their jobs, Lenny has never really opened up to her the way he does right now.
And she tries to treasure that and hold it close to her heart as she looks around her room and the clock. It's 3:09AM on a Wednesday.
She will always remember 3:09AM, Wednesday, early spring of 1966.
Silence fills them as the magical three words are on the tip of her tongue.
"Fuck, I need to drink something stronger than this," Lenny says with a cough. "By the way, did you get my present? For the success of your show?"
She shuts her eyes and curses herself for her cowardice again. "Yes, got it right here." Her hands reach to her drawer of her nightstand at the apothecary box. "I like that it's pink. I didn't know that existed."
"That's because it's handcrafted to perfection."
"Oh?"
"Not by me though. I just know a guy who knows a guy."
That makes her smile. "And it's personalized with my initials." Her thumb strokes the gold MM plate. "You know I love everything that has my name on it."
"What good of a husband slash brother would I be if I don't know you well?"
This is the longest Joel has seen her without makeup, without her cold cream she had never skipped before sleep, and without any sense of hygiene. Her eyes have dried and if she sees herself in the mirror right now, she knows she can see how sunken her eyes most probably are.
She can't even afford to feel disgusted at herself. Her body is completely glued to her bed. Joel, Susie, and her father have tried to get her up. Her mother couldn't even look at her without looking like she's about to gag, holding on to the wall as she sees her daughter.
Midge won't even allow Joel to bring their children to her because no parent wants their kids to see them in this state.
She feels like a grieving widow as she stares at an empty wall.
When Joel is about to slide the curtain open, she immediately tries to protest with her dry throat.
"Please, don't," she rasps.
Joel glances at her. "Midge—"
"No."
Her ex sighs but he does what he's told anyway because he's always terrible at saying no to her.
"You gotta get up, Midge," he says almost pleadingly. "At least to the kitchen. It's right out of your bedroom. You only need to take five steps."
"Leave me be," she murmurs.
"You still need to eat. You barely touch your food."
She ignores him. Maybe if she ignores him long enough, he'll finally leave.
She hears Susie's voice. "Let me handle this."
"What difference does it make?" Joel says, irritated.
"You've tried, pretty boy. Now my turn."
Joel scoffs. "Fine. Go on. Let me see you try.”
It sounds like Susie is shoving Joel away but Midge doesn’t bother to look.
“Midge,” Susie begins. “This room fucking stinks. This isn’t you.”
"Seriously, Susie?"
"Shut up, Joel. I'm handling this. Midge, come on. Look, if I put on cold cream like you told me to, you should too."
"She's still not moving."
"I know. I can see that. Jesus Christ.” Susie sighs. “Midge, we’re just really worried about you, kid. At least fill your stomach if you won’t sit up.”
“Midge, please…” Joel says pleadingly. “Look at me.”
Midge stares at the pink apothecary box as the sound of the clock ticking slowly fades, along with the voices of her best friend and ex-husband. Instead it’s replaced by a loud ringing voice.
The clock is ticking next to her on her nightstand as she stares at the ceiling. She tosses and turns, squeezing her eyes shut when she lays on her side. But when she closes her eyes, it takes her back to her recent meeting with Lenny.
His eyes were bloodshot and he barely paid any attention to her. She barely recognized her own best friend. He slurred his words more than forming coherent sentences. It was agonizing to watch. When she asked if he was okay, he simply put his hand on hers and squeezed it, encouraging her to keep talking and to not ask too much about him.
The hug at the end of the night still lingers on her body like a ghost. It was a tight embrace that while it almost suffocated her, it was… nice. For a couple of minutes, he refused to let go and she let him. She can still smell his cologne and smoke until now.
She turns again and casts her gaze at the clock. Fuck, the alarm would go off in an hour. She kicks the blanket off of her and hops down the bed, her hand itching to reach for the telephone.
Midge couldn’t take it anymore and picks up the receiver in a great celerity and dials the familiar number.
Lenny answers the call with a disoriented "Hmm?"
Her stomach flips and her chest immediately hurts. "Hey, Lenny."
"Yeah."
She closes her eyes, holding back her tears. He can't see her right now but she knows he can easily sense it from her voice.
Every time she hears from him, every time she sees him, he looks more and more restless. She can't imagine being in his shoes right now. Blackballed around the country, arrested every time. He has nothing now, all his savings have to go to his lawyer.
His whole world is falling apart.
"Midge..."
"Mmhmm?"
It sounds like he's slurring his words as he says, "I'm fucking tired."
That reminds her of the night she got kicked out just for saying the word pregnant on the stage and offered him to stand outside his play date. He told her he was getting tired at the time.
She doesn't have anything to offer him in this situation.
It sounds like he's heaving a sigh. "I don't know what's the point anymore."
That could mean so many things. She wonders what's in his head right now. Even if she asks, Lenny wouldn't tell her anyway. It frustrates her so much how much he thinks about her more than himself.
She swallows, peeling the skin off her lips. "I... I lo..." She closes her eyes. "Hang in there, buddy."
He lets out a bitter laugh. "Not sure how much longer left."
There's a lump in her throat now as she grips the receiver. Her breathing grows ragged. There are so many things she wants to say to him but she's tongue tied. She feels like if she opens her mouth right now, she might burst into tears.
He seems to sense that she's not going to say much as he starts to ramble.
"You know it's total bullshit that we get arrested for spitting profanities? Yet every time I spend my nights in jail, they would be like, fuck this and fuck that. Oy, cunt, give me the fucking shit, will ya? Oy look at this motherfucker. What a fucking cock. It's like it's their language, ya know, Midge? It's fucking ridiculous. They’re all a bunch of hypocrites.”
She listens intently with heavy hurt as she draws patterns on her bedsheet with her fingertip.
"People are paying to hear me talk but I feel like they're getting sick of me talking about cops and jails and prisons and courts and judges and whatever. Don't they know I'm fucking sick too? I barely have any material now. Maybe it's a good thing I'm blackballed everywhere because I'm not worth anything anymore. But then I can't earn anything. What dump would hire a comic, huh? No, no. Not a comic. What dump would hire an ex-con?"
She curls herself into a ball with the telephone next to her on the bed and the receiver still in her hand. "But you're..." Her voice breaks as she tries to find words to say but nothing's good enough. "You're Lenny."
There's a rustling sound on the other line. His laugh sounds so broken. "Promise me one thing."
"What is it?"
"Promise me you'll show these fuckers what you're made of. Promise me that you'll make sure everyone knows your name for decades."
She tilts her head to the side, her eyes watering. "But what if—"
"Promise me."
"I promise."
It almost sounds like he's smiling. "Good night, Miriam."
She pauses, tightening the grip she has on the receiver. The words are on the tip of her tongue. Those words that only have been said by one of them once upon a time ago, although she's not sure if it counts since he said it on the Miami After Dark show.
"I'm here with someone special tonight. Someone I love dearly, almost as much as I love myself.
But then again, he said she's his wife and sister so she's not sure about the reliability of his words.
Still, there was sincerity in his tone when he said about how he loved her. Unless she imagined it.
That was almost six years ago though. She can't imagine her life without him. Surely he feels it too.
Her heart hangs heavy as she says quietly, "Good night, Leonard."
And hangs up, not realizing this moment would haunt her forever.
"And the award for Variety Comedy or Music Special goes to…” Lucille Ball reads the card in her hand. “Mrs. Maisel for the show The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel!"
"Put on a brave face, kiddo," Susie whispers in her ear next to her, squeezing her hand a couple of times.
”Huh?”
”You won! Go up there, Midge.”
Midge barely processes it as she wraps her arms around her best friend. She glances at the seat on her left and smiles.
The applause is booming around the room as she stands up but all she hears is her heartbeat. She lifts her glamorous red dress and traverses towards the stage with heavy steps.
"Thank you," she says to Lucille fucking Ball who's handing her the award. She can imagine what Lenny would say about this.
The award trophy is in her quivering hands. She turns and faces the sea of crowds.
It's not that foreign to face a crowd this big in a theatre like this because her job is to entertain people and she has done this countless of times.
Her eyes wander around the room at Susie, who's nodding in encouragement at her. She thanks the people that got her here such as Susie for believing in her before everyone and her parents for opening their hearts to her questioning career.
And as her speech nears the end, her sight falls on the seat next to her left. He's there, smiling and blowing a kiss at her, mouthing "I'm proud of you."
She draws a breath, her lips quivering. As she blinks and opens her eyes, the seat is empty again.
She exhales and nods to herself.
"Last but never, ever the least, I'd like to thank Lenny Bruce for taking a chance on me. Even though he's longer with us, he'll always remain in my heart." Her sight is blurred as her eyes are stung by tears. She bets he’s chiding her right now from above.
Don’t cry, Midge. I hate it when you cry.
"Thank you for being my guardian angel,” she says, her voice breaking. “My gratitude will forever be there for everything you've done for me—and for the other comics that know what I'm talking about." She hears whistles from the crowd. "Your legacy will live on for centuries.”
When she thought the applause earlier was already loud enough, this time it breaks the whole room and echoes everywhere as everyone stands up and claps their hands. She lifts the trophy to the audience and looks up with a smile.
She tells herself that she’s doing this for closure as she lifts the receiver to her ear. She has already pulled out the telephone plug so she won’t disturb anyone who’s staying in that room as she dials the number.
If she doesn’t do this, she will never have peace. Late night conversation used to be their tradition. If there’s one way to feel like she’s actually communicating with him, this is it.
She cradles the receiver, knowing there’s no one at the end of the line. “Hey, it’s me. I’m hoping that somehow, you can hear this. Otherwise I would be insane.” She snorts. “I’m kidding. I am insane.”
Even though no one is listening, she still grimaces at herself.
“I can’t believe it has been a year.” She sits on the bed and strokes her thigh with her palm. “The world isn’t the same without you, ya know? Of course you know that, Mr. Popular. I hope you enjoy your fame. I thought I was your only friend but apparently you’ve been seeing Hugh Hefner behind my back, huh?”
Her finger taps on the bed as her thighs bounce. “I really… I really miss you, you—you asshole.” She rests her forehead on her palm. “Fuck you for leaving anyway. Who else is gonna be my fairy godmother? Or have you been promoted by God to be an actual fairy godmother, flying above me and protecting me?”
Yeah, that sounds like what he would do.
“I don’t need all that though.” She bites her lip as it quivers, seeing his face in her head. “All I want is you. Just you and your smile. That’s all. Just you. I miss stumbling into a bar only to find you sulking or whatever no matter where I am because you were always there and now you’re…” Her voice breaks as she says, “not.”
She chokes out and palms her mouth immediately to stop herself from sobbing. “Fuck, I’m crying again. Geez, I know I can make people laugh but I think I’m going to try to make them cry next. Bet that’s harder than being funny. I know you agree with me. That’s why only actors that make people cry have Oscar awards in their house, not comics.”
Not able to sit any longer, she adjusts herself until she’s laying on her back, the receiver still on her ear as if anyone could hear her. It’s nice to pretend. “But on a more serious note, I—“ She blows out a breath, staring at the ceiling. “While I miss you and it has been a miserable year… I feel the need to assure you that I’m doing alright. I’ve come to accept that you had to go. I do have just one regret though.”
She starts pulling some threads of her blanket. “I don’t remember if I’ve said this. I think I’ve said it whenever you helped me or I don’t know. When I was drunk probably. I’m kind of drunk right now but I need to get it off my chest right now.” She squeezes her temples with her middle finger and thumb. “I love you, Lenny. So, so much.” She catches her breath and shuts her eyes. “That’s my regret. That I didn’t say it enough. I should have said `I love you’ to you often.”
As she’s about to place the receiver back on the switch hook, something stops her.
“I know, Midge,” he says gently, like an echo. “I always knew.”
She freezes. “L-Lenny?” She checks again if she really did unplug it.
The plug is out of the socket.
“Lenny?” she repeats, quietly this time yet pleading. “Can you hear me?”
There’s no answer but she still finds herself smiling as tears welling up her eyes. Even though she has so much to tell him, at least she had the chance to hear his voice one last time. She breathes in deeply and refrains herself from sobbing. Peace begins to engulf her.
She hugs the receiver before she puts it back on the switch hook and plugs the connector in the socket. She turns off the nightstand light and settles herself under the blanket.
“Good night, Lenny,” she murmurs to the air.