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"Tony, you really don't need to cover my eyes . . . " Dorothy said, playfully as he led her up to his top-floor converted warehouse-apartment. "I have seen your place before . . . " "I know, but it's the couple-d thing to do . . . " he replied, futilely fumbling at keeping Dorothy's eyes covered and at the lock on the door. Tony finally flung the door open and pushed her inside the apartment. "Well, here ‘t is!" he said, stretching his arms out in front of him. "Do you like it?" "I love it, it's perfect . . . " she said, looking around, still carrying a box she had dubbed too and fragile for the movers to handle. "Glad you like it," he grinned, taking the box from her and dropping it nonchalantly next to the sofa. He put the sexiest look he could on his face, then slowly approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist. "No, no, no, the movers will be here in a moment . . . " she said, brushing him off. "God, woman, you're frigid!" he teased. "I know, love," she said, turning around and putting her hand to his cheek. "But I can't be off with the job and up with the heels every time you're horny." Tony laughed shortly, then looked her over for a moment. "All right, get on with it . . . " Tony said, kissing her lightly. She patted his side, then went off to get the movers. He watched her go through the door, turning briefly to smile at him. That was just what he loved about her. She could be rude, boisterous, and cheeky one moment, while being sweet, sexy and innocent the next. She was the only girl who would stand up to him and be blatantly honest, no matter what. In thirty-six years, he'd never felt "this way" about anyone. He loved her like a mother, friend and hooker. The doorbell rang and Tony snapped into action, answering it. Dorothy was standing on the doorstep with a small box, smiling proudly, while four movers stood behind her, carrying huge boxes. He moved aside to let them in, and motioned for them to set the boxes on the floor. They set her things down and looked to her. "One more trip, ma'am; that'll be the lot of it," one of the large men said, grinning sheepishly. "Lovely! Would you like any help?" The three men shook their heads and then left the apartment for their last trip. Dorothy closed the door behind them, then walked over to Tony and draped her arms around his neck. "You're an absolute dear for putting up with all this. You know that?" she said. "Oh, it's nothing," he replied, grinning and putting his hands on her waist. "Sure, what would you like to do tonight?" "I'd love to stay home, but . . . I should probably go to the studio. Someone said they wanted to talk to me . . . maybe I should call . . . " "When are you taping?" "Thursday. I won't be home until late . . . have you got work that day?" "Yeah, but I could probably get off early . . . what time will you start filming?" "Five-thirty." "If we don't have any big orders, I could make it if I leave a bit early." "Great!" he paused for a moment. "I can't get over you working for a florist!" "Why? What's wrong with it?" Dorothy said, putting her hand on his chest, somewhat defensively. "Nothing. I just can't see what you love so much about it." "It's calming . . . it smells heavenly. What more can a gal ask for?" she grinned back. "Anyhow, I'd better look after the movers." "All right," he said, leaning down and kissing her lightly. "Hurry back." She nodded and went of in search of the movers. The next morning when Tony woke up, Dorothy was gone. He got up and pulled on his robe and headed toward the kitchen. Dorothy had left a note on the refrigerator that read-- "Sorry I left without waking you. I didn't think it was right to disturb you so early in the morning. I should be home around noon. Love, Dottie" --written in her curly script. He grinned slightly as he read the note, then put it in the pocket of his robe. He looked up at the clock--it was almost ten-thirty, and he was still tired. He rubbed his eyes, then went about cleaning things up and getting ready for that night. He had just gotten out of the shower and was deciding whether or not he needed to shave when he felt a hand wrap around his chest and someone kiss his back. It was, of course, Dorothy. "Hiya," she said, sleepily. "Hello," he replied. "You left before I got up." "Yea, our supplier delivers early and it was my day to be there. I didn't want to wake you so early," she said, rubbing his chest with her palms. He nodded. "But since I got there early, I can come watch tonight," she smiled. "Great!" he said. "What time do you get off for good?" "I'm off now." "I'll tell them to let you in back stage. I've got to go in around three. The producers said they wanted to talk to me . . . " "Did they say what about?" "No. It's usually nothing, happens all the time. You get called up very seriously and it's all hype, it is." "Good. I'm going to lie down, I'm tired," she winked. She kissed him. "I'll see you at the studio, then." Dorothy stepped into the dimly lit backstage hall of Channel Four and was immediately greeted by a very nervous Greg Proops. "You're Tony's significant other, right?" he asked, urgently. "Yes, why?" she asked, suspiciously. "You've got to talk to him. He's angry as hell and no one knows why," he said, grabbing Dorothy by the wrist and practically dragging her down the corridor, finally letting go of her in front of a closed door. "All I know is he talked to the producers this afternoon and came back fuming mad. He wouldn't talk to anyone and he is locked in his dressing-room." "Okay, okay," she said softly. She tapped on the door. "Tony?" "What is it now?" Tony said, obviously peeved from the inside. "It's Dottie." The door flew open and he pulled her inside, then shut the door behind her. Dorothy had expected the room to be torn apart, but surprisingly, it looked almost normal, aside from the empty bottle of vodka that sat by the sofa. "Sit, sit, sit," he said, quite rapidly. Dorothy could tell he had been drinking, but was not sure why he was acting in such a rapid manner. She moved slowly to the sofa, being careful not to disturb anything or make any sudden movements and sat down. Tony stood at the door, watching her and nervously biting his lower lip. After a moment, Dorothy spoke. "May I ask what's the matter?" she asked, cautiously. "I-was-sacked," Tony replied slowly. "You what?" she said, surprised. "I was sacked. They said I drink too much and I've made them "look bad" on a few occasions and they don't want me making an ass of myself or them anymore. Here's the slip," he said, tossing a small piece of pink paper into her lap. "My last time is September the first. They're giving me a fortnight's pay and then they're canning me. At least the bastards gave me notice," he said, laughing nervously, then slamming his fist into the wall in anger. "Stop it right now!" she said, standing up. "No matter how much you punch that goddamned wall it's not going to get your job back." He looked pained for a moment, then staggered over to the couch and sat down, putting his head in his hands. Dorothy sat back down next to him, and put her arm around his shoulders. "I know it's terrible and it seems like the end of the world, but it's not," she said softly. "Other things will come along . . . " Tony looked up at her, then put his head in her lap, curling his knees up next to him. "I can't say I know exactly how you feel, but I have been sacked before when I was destitute. It seems terrible, but it really will get better." "This is the first time I haven't had anything to do in thirteen years. I don't know what I'll do . . . " he said slowly and almost childishly. "Maybe some time off is what you need then . . . " "Yea . . . maybe . . . it's just . . . you know . . . " Dorothy nodded. "Yea, I do . . . " Tony sat up again. "What time is it?" "It's almost five." "Shit, I'm going to be late . . . " "Yeah, I'll see you out there, then. Have fun," she smiled, weakly. "Yeah, hiya, mum . . . I'm kind of worried . . . It's Tony, he got sacked . . . yes, it's the Tony from the telly . . . they said he embarrassed them . . . I guess he did. He was rather - er- outspoken at that awards show . . . well, he's still got a few irons in the fire, but he's terribly depressed about it . . . he has worked constantly for thirteen years . . . I really don't know . . . yes, I'm fine . . . I'll come visit soon . . . you've got to go so soon?...All right, I'll call later. Bye mum . . . I love you too . . . bye. The lights shut off and Tony walked off the set in somewhat of a daze. On the way to his dressing room, Colin and Ryan stopped him. "Hey, buddy. We're going to miss ya'," Ryan said sincerely. "You were the only one with the cajones to tell Clive to fuck off . . . "Yea, good luck," Colin said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You keep in touch, you hear?" Tony nodded at both of them. Clive and mike met up with the three. "I'm really gonna miss ya', pal," Mike said, crushing him in a huge bear hug. "See you around, you git," Clive said, jokingly. Tony laughed weakly and shook their hands as a sort of final farewell before heading to his dressing room. Dorothy was sitting on the sofa, waiting for him. "Hiya. How are you holding up?" she asked with quiet reverence. Tony nodded, then hugged her tightly for a few moments. She patted his back and spoke softly. "Let's go home . . . " she said. He nodded and picked up a box of his things. She took him by the arm and led him out into the abandoned studio parking lot. "I'll drive . . . " she said before they got to the car. He nodded and walked toward the passenger's side, dropping the box into the back seat. They drove along in silence for a few minutes before Tony spoke up. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I should be happy--I've been working constantly for thirteen years . . . I'm perfectly happy . . . but I just can't . . . " he sighed. "I know what you mean. It's probably just the finality of it all. It will become easier. Is there anything you want me to do? Anything you want to do? Go on holiday or something?" "No, not right now. I just want to clear my head for a bit." "Alright...well. I'm going to take some time off this week. I just thought I'd keep you company." Tony smiled. "Thanks," he murmured. Dorothy turned over and patted Tony's forearm. "Morning..." she said softly. "Morning," he replied, still mostly asleep. It was two weeks later and although he was feeling better, he was still somewhat distant. "Today's my day off..." she said, creeping her fingers across his chest. "Is there anything you'd like to do?" Tony grinned, taking her hand and kissing its palm. "You've got a nasty cut there..." he said after a moment of examining her palm. "Yeah, someone ordered ten-dozen white roses for a wedding. Can you imagine? Ten-dozen! And, well, I was the only person to arrange them all...I'll go get some antiseptic," she said, getting out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. She looked in the medicine chest with no luck. She then looked under the sink and she found something she wasn't expecting--diet pills, and lots of them. She picked up one of the large bottles and read the label--"Anthony Slattery-- Tamazepan, 20 mg. Appetite suppressant. Do not take with alcohol. May cause hyperactivity and sleeplessness." "Dottie? Can you find it?" Tony called, still sleepy from the bedroom. "Yea," she said, startled, shoving the bottle back into the cabinet and slamming it shut. She reopened the cabinet and pulled a bottle out again. She turned it nervously in her hand. She cleared her throat. "Tony?" "Yea?" he said. He had obviously fallen back asleep. "What are these?" she asked, standing in the bathroom doorway and holding the bottle out to him. "Those are..." "Why have you got them? You don't need them..." "I've got them just so I can lose a bit of weight..." "You don't need to lose weight, you're perfect. The side effects are worse than the aide..." she said looking at the bottle. "Look, blood clots, irritability, hyperactivity, sleeplessness...what do you do when I'm not here?" "You know...relax...read...clean up...just...things." "Tony, really...you can tell me. I just want to help. This isn't healthy," Dorothy said, now close to tears. He put his hand on her cheek. "I just want to lose a little weight. That's all. It doesn't affect me like that." "But it tells you specifically not to drink," she said, knocking his hand away, picking up the bottle and pointing to it. "Right there, I've seen the bottles, I've seen you drink. That is so dangerous I can't believe it." The telephone rang. "I've got to get that," he said getting up. "It's my mum." He left Dorothy sitting on the bed. She collapsed onto his pillow and began to cry. I have seen your face and it's too much for me today. Trouble, oh trouble can't you see? You have made me a wreck, now won't you leave me in my misery? I've seen you're eyes, and I have seen death's disguise hanging on me Hanging on me I'm beat and torn, shattered and tossed and worn Too shocking to see, Too shocking to see... ...Cat Stevens, "Trouble" Dorothy came home a few weeks later to find the apartment almost bare. The select items of furniture seemed to be the only thing left in the apartment. "Tony?" she called. Her voice reverberated back to her in the empty apartment. She heard a loud splash come from the open window that looked over the Thames. "Oh, god..." she murmured, dropping her things and looking out the window. She climbed out the window and ran down the fire escape to a figure standing off in the distance with his hands in his pockets of his trench coat. He was looking down at the water. "Tony!" she shouted as she ran towards him. She stopped to a screeching halt next to him. "What are you doing?" she panted. He motioned listlessly towards the gurgling water. "What's that?" "The refrigerator." "The refrigerator? You threw the refrigerator into the river?!" "And the microwave...the telly...yep. All of it," he said, surprisingly calmly. Dorothy looked at the gurgling water in disbelief. "Alright, Tony, come on..." she said, taking him by the arm. "Let's go home now..." She felt like she was talking to a child. She led him back to the apartment and sat him down on the bed. "I want you to go to bed," she said, bending and pulling his shoes off. He watched her blankly. "Tomorrow I'm taking you to hospital." "Why?" he said somewhat paranoid. He jerked himself away from her and recoiled on the bed. "Why do I need to go to hospital?" "You're not a well man, Tony. You need some help. I can't offer it to you by myself, and you can't help yourself, so I need to do something about it." He glared at her coldly. "I'm fine," he said bitterly. "You are not fine, Tony. You just threw hundreds of pounds- worth of your things into the Thames." "I'm fine. Leave me be," he said shortly. He stared at her as he climbed under the covers and pulled them up to his nose. Dorothy left the bedroom closing the door behind her. She couldn't leave him like that. She sat down on the couch, or what was left of it, and covered herself with his trench coat and tried to sleep. The next morning, when she woke up, Tony was still asleep. She went into the bedroom to wake him. She sat above him and shook him gently. "Tony?" she whispered. "Uhmp..." he groaned and rolled over. "Wake up, Tony..." she said a bit louder. He looked up and blinked a few times at her. "What time is it?" "It's eleven o'clock. I'm calling the doctor. You need to get help." "Uh-huh, yea..." he said raising his arm over his face to block the light, then rolling over and falling back asleep. She turned the curtains down and left the room to call the doctor. "Hello, is this Doctor Harrison's office?" "Yes, it is..." a nasal secretary said on the other side. "Could I please speak with him for a moment? It is very urgent," Dorothy said, tearily. "May I ask who is calling?" "Dorothy Sickles." "In regards to..." "My boyfriend, he is very ill." "Symptoms?" "He's sleeping for days at a time. He's taking amphetamines. He's drinking heavily..." she her voice broke as another round of sobs shook her. "Patient name?" "Anthony Slattery." "Middle name?" "Could you please put the doctor on? This is very important!" "Everyone says it's very important, dear, now, middle name." "Declain." "Would you hold for a moment?" The woman clicked off before Dorothy had a chance to respond. She slumped against a wall and rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry, the doctor is with a patient right now." "But--" "You'll have to call back in a bit. Good day!" the woman said, as the line went dead. Dorothy threw the telephone down and grabbed the roots of her hair with her fists. She sat for a moment, staring at the floor in disbelief, before her eyes blurred with tears. She curled into a ball and began to sob on the floor. morning and started to laugh I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath. And when I awoke I was alone, This bird had flown... --The Beatles, "Norweigen Wood" When Tony awoke, Dorothy was sleeping beside him. She hadn't changed her clothing since the last time he had woken. He shook her awake. "Hello . . . " he said, weakly. He couldn't think of anything else to say. Dorothy blinked at him a few times before wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him. "What day is it?" he asked. She bit her lip. "I think it's Tuesday . . . " she said, still crying. He nodded. "Why aren't you at work?" "Do you remember anything that happened?" "I remember being really drunk . . . " he said, in an almost mournful tone. "Nothing else?" "Nothing . . . " he said, lying back down on his back. "I'm exhausted . . . " "You just slept for three days. Tony, please let me take you to hospital . . . " she pleaded. "You are not well . . ." Tony sat up next to her with his back pressed against the bare wall. He looked at her and scratched the back of his head. "Why?" "Tony, please..." she pleaded with him. She was beginning to cry again. He stared at her blankly, then got up and went to the bathroom. In a bold move, she followed him. "Tony, you need help. . ." "I don't need help from you!" Dorothy sat in the bathroom door staring at him with the same blankness he had offered her. "Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should leave. . ." "Maybe you should." "I want you to remember, Tony Slattery," she said, jabbing her finger into his chest. "I tried to save your life. I can't do any more than that if you don't want me to." She turned around, picked up a bag and threw a few things into it. He watched her, but could not bring himself to say anything to her. She threw her bag on her shoulder and looked at him for a moment before turning and leaving the apartment for the last time. I go where the music takes me, where my heart wants to go I've sat upon the setting sun But never, never, never, never wanted water once And never, never, never, never let go. I'll never make the same mistake... ...Cat Stevens, "The Wind" Five Years Later . . . "Another student . . . " he thought. "Excuse me, may I help you?" he said aloud. "Hello, Tony . . . " the person said softly. It was Dottie. He dropped his suitcase in the middle of the hall, ran to her and gave her an enormous hug. "Oh, Dottie!" he said, holding her at arms' length. "You've changed!" She had changed. Her face was thinner, more wise. She wore glasses worthy of Buddy Holly and her hair was long and tied up in a messy knot on her head. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. "How are you?" "I'm good. You look fantastic!" she said, straightening his coat and tie. She laughed. "Still like bold colors, eh?" He laughed along with her. "I read about you in the newspaper. My mom kept sending me clippings of anything she read about you. Are you still doing well?" He nodded. "Yeah, much better. You really knocked me into shape . . . it's all I've thought about for two years and now the moment's here and I don't know what to say . . . " he said, thoughtfully. "I understand," she smiled. "What have you been up to?" "Not much, really . . . I quit my job at the florist," she said, holding up her hands. "They're not cut up anymore," she said, smiling. "What do you do now?" "Well, I'm a mom now. . ." she ventured cautiously. "So I've been staying home. . . " "You're a mother?" "Yes, to a little boy. I've been 'playing' for two years now . . . " Tony blinked at her. "You have a son?" he said at a loss for words. She nodded. "His name is John." Tony's eyes blurred. "Is he . . . ?" She shook her head. "No. I've got a husband . . . I need to go. It's been nice talking to you, Tony," she said smiling. She wrapped her arms around his neck for a long hug. "I never stopped loving you..." she whispered. "I never will..." he replied. Dottie broke the hug. "‘Bye, I hope I'll see you around..." she said, walking off. "Yeah, me too..." he replied. |