University of Montana ScholarWorks at University of Montana Graduate Student Theses, Dissertations, & Professional Papers Graduate School 2003 Why pay more| A novel David Berthy The University of Montana Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarworks.umt.edu/etd Let us know how access to this document benefits ou.y Recommended Citation Berthy, David, "Why pay more| A novel" (2003). Graduate Student Theses, Dissertations, & Professional Papers. 4089. https://scholarworks.umt.edu/etd/4089 This Thesis is brought to you for free and open access by the Graduate School at ScholarWorks at University of Montana. It has been accepted for inclusion in Graduate Student Theses, Dissertations, & Professional Papers by an authorized administrator of ScholarWorks at University of Montana. For more information, please contact [email protected]. Maureen and Mike MANSFIELD LIBRARY The University of Montana Permission is granted by the author to reproduce this material in its entirety, provided that this material is used for scholarly purposes and is properly cited in published works and reports. **Please check "Yes" or "No" and provide signature** Yes, I grant permission No, I do not grant permission Author's Signature: Date: Any copying for commercial purposes or financial gain may be undertaken only with the author's explicit consent. 8/98 WHY PAY MORE A Novel By David Berthy B.A. University of Washington, 1999 Presented in partial flilfillment of the requirements For the degree of Masters in Fine Arts The University of Montana May, 2003 Chairperson Dean, Graduate School (o-a-o3 Date UMI Number: EP34922 All rights reserved INFORMATION TO ALL USERS The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted. In the unlikely event that the author did not send a complete manuscript and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if material had to be removed, a note will indicate the deletion. UMT nilllMlllltllVl PllfflBMlll] UMI EP34922 Published by ProQuest LLC (2012). Copyright in the Dissertation held by the Author. Microform Edition © ProQuest LLC. All rights reserved. This work is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code ProQuest* ProQuest LLC. 789 East Eisenhower Parkway P.O. Box 1346 Ann Arbor, Ml 48106-1346 One Alter work I dodge Mickey and head out into the rain thinking, as usual, about how ridiculous my job is. It's eight at night. The people that pass by me on First stare straight ahead or at the wet pavement. Above me, in all the lit windows of downtown, people are moving behind glass. Janitors push mops and empty waste baskets; businessmen survey the city like generals while they talk on their phones; h^py couples toast each other with wine glasses. All those smug fucks are dry in their towers, looking down. The cell phone rings. I flip it open. "Yeah?" I say The businessmen push by me in the dark. Here we are in the rain, we men and women of commerce, pushing towards home. I hear breathing crackle and rasp. "Yeah?" I say again. "Am I speaking with Eli?" asks the voice. I always get suspicious when someone calls me by my real name. "It's Eli," I say. "May I help you?" "My name is Janos," says the voice. There's a slight accent. "You left a message for me...about the personal ad I placed." 1 My heart does a drum roll when I remember the ad and I start to get all nervous. A week ago I responded to this ad in weekly newspaper with the heading SEDUCE MY WIFE. I never thought anything would come of it. I was just something I did on a whim in my apartment when I was bored. The thing is, it could be perfect. A guy named Janos might have some kind of wife all right—^an icy blonde from Krakow, a smoky vixen from Bucharest, but still, it's weird to be actually talking to him. "This is Eli," I say, trying to sound calm. The voice says, "Eli... about the ad. A lot of people responded. More than I thought, but your response interested me. I'd like to meet you." Like winning a contest, I think. "Okay," I say. "We're having a party this evening in Bellevue, and if you've got the time, I'd like for you to come out and meet my wife." "I've been to Bellevue before." "It's a lovely place," says Janos without a shred of sarcasm. "It'll be a small party. Some friends, drinking wine." He pauses long enough for a car to splash by and stir up the rain stench. "It won't be any big deal." Sometimes when I'm nervous my voice shakes a little. "Sure," I say. "It's just— "I know it's sudden." "Yeah," I say, kind of shaky. I try to talk slower. "I didn't expect to get the call back so soon." It comes out much calmer. When I focus, I can really lay it on thick. "I'm well aware that you're probably a busy young man and you have plans. Think of it as a party Think of it as, I don't know, an adventure. Can you trust me when I say you won't be disappointed?" 2 "I'ln into it," I say. "Did you say tonight?" "It should be quite an opportunity for you Eli," says Janos. "The opportunity of a lifetime. Sex, adventure, mystery. No commitment. Quite an opportunity. My wife is a very beautiful young woman." All this is said without the slightest trace of embarrassment. This Janos, he's selling me. I come to a stop below a streetlight, one of the last before my apartment, and stand there listening to my phone in the damp glow. The rain starts blowing sideways and it smacks right into my face. "Your wife's down?" I ask. A sigh. "Hannah. Her name is Hannah. We'll discuss everything when you get here," says Janos. "Are you interested or not?" The rain stops all of a sudden and everything goes quiet. You can hear the electricity buzzing through the streetlights. It's like the city is holding its breath. "Tonight as in now?" I ask. "If you're not interested I'd be happy to contact someone else," says Janos. My heart finally slows down a little and I stop acting like this is such a big deal. It's just random sex, I tell myself I'm good at that. Plus, it's been a long day and I could use a little treat. "Fine," I say. "Tonight." I say it super calm, like a guy who does this all the time. I pull a crumpled ATM receipt out of my pocket and scribble down the address. I live alone downtown in a second story apartment that is always too hot, especially in the winter. I wouldn't have any problems at all with the place if it wasn't for the radiator. There's no way to turn it on or off. You know how these things are. No one 3 knows a thing. This radiator, there's no rhyme or reason for its clickings or emissions; it comes on in the nuddle of the night and rattles like a prisoner's cup. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night and stare at it actually looks like it's glowing a little. The radiator clicks now, but I'm too pumped to let it get to me. I've been reading the personal ads for years but I never thought I'd be the kind to answer one. Finally, though, it just hit me that real people were placing those things and you could get sex without any of the hassle that always accompanies a girlfriend or whatever. I still have the weekly where I found the ad. I flip it open and take a look. SEDUCE MY WIFE Attractive prof, couple seeking hwp w/m Professional under 30. Seduce my elegant young wife. Discretion a premium. No questions or obligations. No drugs/STDs. Serious inquiries only. Tasteful encounter for reasonable, attractive individual. It's so perfect it's unbelievable. Finally, a little luck for Eli. Janos. What a name. Hannah. I try to picture her. Hannah's the name of a girl with serious cheekbones. You see these Bellevue ladies come into the store. Trophy wives. Foreign wives. Young wives. I know these wives; I'm the one that sells them their shoes. When I first came back from Japan, my dad got me this fax machine so I could send out my resume. It comes with an answering machine, so every time I come home I have to listen to its insistent beeps until I fmally relent and play the messages. The only faxes I get are junk promotionals; the usual all-caps-exclamation-marked urges about ways to lose weight and get rich. The machine goes BEEP...BEEP...BEEP like a robot lamb. I click play. 4 It's my mom. My parents don't know about my cell. If they knew about it, I'd never make it five minutes without getting a call. I'm an only child and my parents are all over me. Lately, I've started ignoring them. For two weeks. Mom's been leaving messages I haven't returned. It's not that I don't want to talk to her—^Mom's pretty all right—it's just that her messages, they throw me. I listen to the last three in succession.