Lillian and Dash by Sam Toperoff Page A

Seeing Reba kiss the Burnett boy in the woods. His father shooting their mule after it broke down. Learning to drive in a neighbor’s Model T. The precious chess set he won in a guess-how-many-beans-in-the-jar contest. His mother butchering the Christmas pig in his father’s absence.
    Lillian had read most of these pages without letting Hammett know.
    He put a new page in the machine and typed:
    Darling Lillush
,
    I’m down
.
    I’m at war with myself again, sweet Muse, as if you didn’t know. There is no chance of Victory, unconditional surrender is impossible, and certainly no peace treaty in the offing, just this war of attrition to the deathbetween myself and myself—my best self and my worst self, but I’ll be damned if I can tell which is which anymore. (I hear you saying aloud, Fuck you, Hammett, yes you can! Everyone can!) I swear to you I can’t
.
    You’re a terrible example to me. You’re making a fortune and still you’re a real writer. You have to know how jealous I am of that. When you tell me I’m better than you and could easily do the same thing you do even better, it kills me, because, dear Lilly, I know it just ain’t so. Wouldn’t things be easier for me if you accepted that plain, demonstrable fact and we still somehow managed to be to each other as we are, maybe even more so!
    Anyway, the new
Thin Man
deal is almost fine. I’m making a ton swatting ideas over the net like a shuttlecock. But I’ve got to tell you, I’ve come to despise Nick and Nora Charles, their careless banter, their smug superficialities in a world where suffering is and always will be the dominant chord. They are beyond hateful. For me they’ve become insufferable—make that intolerable—upper-class villains. Of course, brilliant and psychologically attuned as you are, you’ve already figured out that what I hate in them is myself. Still, it pays well and doesn’t really damage anyone. This is what I tell myself as I lay my old gray head on the pillow each night and reach across to where you are not
.
    About your enticing offer to come to New York, settle down with you and do litter-a-toor, I must regretfully decline. Yes, I have heard about all the new electronicdoodads that make it possible to be in two places at the same time, but there are many reasons I’ll stay west young man for the time being. I could never win back there. You’re the home team and you are just too good
.
    I have another meeting with the Junkman today. I plan to ask him for the moon but am prepared to accept Ur-anus. You’ll know the result before you receive this missive, grace the aforementioned electronic miracle
.
    For what it’s worth
, Days to Come
is a shimmering piece of work and deserves all the effort you’re taking to make it flawless
.
    Love you, Dash-Dash-Dash
    When he finished typing, he was unsure of whether to pull the page and place it in the envelope he had already addressed. He left the letter in the typewriter.

    T HAT ’ LL BE HIM . Preternatural, that man. I’m not here. Oh, God help me. I need a drink.
    “Hello?”
    “So what have you heard?”
    “Officially, nothing.”
    “Unofficially?”
    “Nothing. It’s a gut thing. I think I know.”
    “Lilly. Trust me, you don’t know. You’ll know when you know, not a moment before. When?”
    “About three more hours, but I already know.”
    “Stranger things have happened.”
    “I walked out middle of the third act.”
    “So you didn’t see if they bought the story or not. I’d be surprised if they didn’t.”
    “You don’t understand,
I walked out
. I couldn’t stand it. Your fault—you always liked this play way too much.”
    “Because it’s very, very good.”
    “A play about a labor strike in fucking Ohio? What the hell was I thinking? The play stinks, Dash.”
    “Doesn’t stink.”
    “Does so.”
    “
Does not
. It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful.”
    “I find I must demur.
You’re—
”
    “At least you’ll have your vast and