Read Online Echoes in the Darkness by Joseph Wambaugh - Free Book Online
Authors: Joseph Wambaugh
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more than her car! She had to cough up three thousand bucks because when he was a little bov his old man had bought him a goddamn toy truck!
And while Sue Myers was facing a bleak economic future and a worse emotional future, Susan Reinert was doing her own sort of tallying. Bill Bradfield had never told a single person that he had so much as dated Susan Reinert.
And so Susan Reinert began engaging in a curious exercise. In addition to diary entries to herself, she began writing letters to him, most of which were never mailed.
The references in the letters made it clear that they were meant to be read, and were read, but it seems that most were read during his visits to her home. It was a curious ritual: writing one's thoughts as they occur, as one waits, unable to meet or talk on the telephone. Then when they did meet, to have him read and discuss the letters. It was curious but consistent with the obsessions of the man who needed documentation of everything.
There were letters filled with her frustration over his inability to appreciate her as a professional, and of being deliberately misunderstood, letters full of self-pity.
To accuse me of judging your religious search as palaver ranks as one of your cruelest remarks. And regarding the department chairman, you have always undervalued me as a professional. You would, I presume, turn down my name immediately, firmly and finally, not letting it get to the stage of nomination.
You never praise me except for my body and cooking. I'm not as simple as you might think. If I were, I might be content to let one day a month, or one day a summer be enough. It's not. Being with you only makes me want to be with you more-to have our separations be the natural ones required for our separate selves, not the lonely ones imposed by you. I can't turn myself off for five years. I'm not apologizing for that. I wish the intensity of the hurt didn't match the intensity of the passion, but I accept that next to Cod, Karen and Michael, you are the center of my life. Somewhere I became deluded into believing I was that important to you.
I can't make you love me. I guess you're used to being loved by women. No man except my father has ever loved me for very long. I'll stop trying. If you ever decide that spending time with me is worth making some changes, let me know. I'll try to keep from drying up.
She frequently threatened to break off their relationship, and would, but after a short while she'd relent.
The literary allusions for his mind were always coupled with appeals to his belly.
Visions of Prufirock, your hair, my dark private place, Andrew Marvell, nuns, come drifting in. Saturday I felt an integral part of you! Treat yourself to a nice dinner,
elease. Plan on roast lamb ratatouille when you return ere. You can help me pay the phone bill later.
Meanwhile back in the principality, the old prince of darkness was letting the school go to hell. An "open class" policy was unofficially instituted at Upper Merion, hence student absences often went unreported.
When a guidance counselor complained to Jay Smith that this didn't seem to be the way to run a school, Dr. Jay replied, "You should consider getting out of education. There're other ways to make money, you know."
When the surprised guidance counselor asked to what ways Dr. Smith was referring, the principal arched those brows and showed him a grin like an eel and said that he knew a guy who made some nice pocket change by running ads in the local newspaper offering to silence guns. Then he laughed and left the guidance counselor gaping.
Jay Smith was more entrepreneurial than Henry Ford. To another dissatisfied staff member he said, "You don't need this job anyway. You live on a farm, don't you? You should raise dogs. Men can never sexually satisfy a woman. If animals can help the blind they can be surrogate sex partners." Jay Smith's "open mike" monologues to the students were becoming more frequent, less coherent. The kids
And while Sue Myers was facing a bleak economic future and a worse emotional future, Susan Reinert was doing her own sort of tallying. Bill Bradfield had never told a single person that he had so much as dated Susan Reinert.
And so Susan Reinert began engaging in a curious exercise. In addition to diary entries to herself, she began writing letters to him, most of which were never mailed.
The references in the letters made it clear that they were meant to be read, and were read, but it seems that most were read during his visits to her home. It was a curious ritual: writing one's thoughts as they occur, as one waits, unable to meet or talk on the telephone. Then when they did meet, to have him read and discuss the letters. It was curious but consistent with the obsessions of the man who needed documentation of everything.
There were letters filled with her frustration over his inability to appreciate her as a professional, and of being deliberately misunderstood, letters full of self-pity.
To accuse me of judging your religious search as palaver ranks as one of your cruelest remarks. And regarding the department chairman, you have always undervalued me as a professional. You would, I presume, turn down my name immediately, firmly and finally, not letting it get to the stage of nomination.
You never praise me except for my body and cooking. I'm not as simple as you might think. If I were, I might be content to let one day a month, or one day a summer be enough. It's not. Being with you only makes me want to be with you more-to have our separations be the natural ones required for our separate selves, not the lonely ones imposed by you. I can't turn myself off for five years. I'm not apologizing for that. I wish the intensity of the hurt didn't match the intensity of the passion, but I accept that next to Cod, Karen and Michael, you are the center of my life. Somewhere I became deluded into believing I was that important to you.
I can't make you love me. I guess you're used to being loved by women. No man except my father has ever loved me for very long. I'll stop trying. If you ever decide that spending time with me is worth making some changes, let me know. I'll try to keep from drying up.
She frequently threatened to break off their relationship, and would, but after a short while she'd relent.
The literary allusions for his mind were always coupled with appeals to his belly.
Visions of Prufirock, your hair, my dark private place, Andrew Marvell, nuns, come drifting in. Saturday I felt an integral part of you! Treat yourself to a nice dinner,
elease. Plan on roast lamb ratatouille when you return ere. You can help me pay the phone bill later.
Meanwhile back in the principality, the old prince of darkness was letting the school go to hell. An "open class" policy was unofficially instituted at Upper Merion, hence student absences often went unreported.
When a guidance counselor complained to Jay Smith that this didn't seem to be the way to run a school, Dr. Jay replied, "You should consider getting out of education. There're other ways to make money, you know."
When the surprised guidance counselor asked to what ways Dr. Smith was referring, the principal arched those brows and showed him a grin like an eel and said that he knew a guy who made some nice pocket change by running ads in the local newspaper offering to silence guns. Then he laughed and left the guidance counselor gaping.
Jay Smith was more entrepreneurial than Henry Ford. To another dissatisfied staff member he said, "You don't need this job anyway. You live on a farm, don't you? You should raise dogs. Men can never sexually satisfy a woman. If animals can help the blind they can be surrogate sex partners." Jay Smith's "open mike" monologues to the students were becoming more frequent, less coherent. The kids
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