Part One
March fifteenth, 9h | Dr Wendell Carter’s Office
Narrator: Dr Wendell Carter earned his doctorate at twenty-nine years old. He had always been an eager fellow, loving to learn and engage with people, and, rather than cheat on one of these passions with the other, he did what he could not do with his ex-wife and two mistresses: he combined them into one and pursued the amalgamate passion with all the energy he could muster. He was thirty-seven, single, groggy, a mite hungover, hornier than any of the teenagers he sometimes treated, vaguely hungry, unshaven, and hoping his intern would be wearing his favourite green brassiere when he stooped over to pick up the paper he almost invariably dropped every morning as he passed her desk. Much as the night before, when he’d wished to seduce his fellow passenger in a shared Uber he’d taken from the bar to his studio apartment only three blocks from his office, he was thoroughly disappointed. The intern – Sarah Welles – had not shown up at the time she’d been scheduled.
In actuality, Sarah Welles was in the building, a few floors down in the kitchen, helping the chef carry a load of oranges. Sarah Welles was an enormously kind young woman, and always sought to donate more time than she was expected. The cross hanging from her neck which Dr Carter hoped to see glistening atop her bare flesh was a present from Ms Welles’ grandmother, who had been a nun back in Argentina. Welles’ grandmother’s only travel outside the country had been to see Sarah’s birth. Sarah loved the cross with all her heart and strove to live to its implications as often as she could. When she saw that Chef Guzman was struggling to manage the four sacks of citrus he’d bought from the farmer’s market that morning, Welles felt compelled to help the young man with his load. He thanked her with a few just-made cream puffs; she was glad to have them, for she had forgotten to bring her smoothie that morning. The universe repays those who are kind.
Grumpily, Dr Carter gathered his mail and stormed to his office, growling at the lock that refused to accept his key. He dropped his keys twice before the lock relented, and Dr Carter stomped into his office. He closed the door gently, to mask his irritation, and because he wouldn’t have made it the next hour if a calamity touched his eardrums. His fingers hesitated over the light switch; he thought better of it, knowing how sensitive his eyes were at the moment. Instead, he made his way to his desk in the dark, finding the cord to turn on the light with relative ease; he plucked it and placed his mail atop his desk before registering that, across the room, another thing had clicked with equal volume and rhythm as the lamp upon his desk.
Quickshot: Too early, I was…
Maury: I was too late. We’ll get it right sometime.
Dr Carter: What the he—
Quickshot, brandishing the gun aimed at Dr Carter’sface: Shut up, sit down, don’t be weird.
Dr Carter, scrambling to find his way into his seat: Be weird? You two are in my office… how’d you even get in here?!
Maury: I told you he’d freak out.
Quickshot: How do you even know these things? It’s like you’re fuckin’ prophetisin’ or somethin’…
Maury: We’ve been together fifty-two years and you still think I’m —
Quickshot: Ah, shut up you asshole! You think, you think you’re the only one who’s gotit, like, ‘Look at me, I’m Maury, I fuckin’ got shit,’ lemme tell ya, Maury, you got shit so crammed up ya ass, so fuckin’ rigid… ooh, you make me so mad!
Maury: The man’s fainted, Alessandra.
Narrator: Maury’s observation was correct. Dr Carter had fallen back in his seat, the staring contest he had with the sight of the pistols in Alessandra’s and Maury’s hands terrifying him into oblivion. At this, Alessandra laughed herself into quietude as Maury forced himself up, slowly walked over to Dr Carter’s door, locked it, activated the IN SESSION sign so that they wouldn’t be interrupted, adjusted his tie in the reflection he caught on the thin glass window in the door, and joined Dr Carter’s side.
Quickshot: What’cha doin’, Maury? Wake him up!
Maury: Alessandra, my dear. While you’re good at putting people to sleep, my speciality has always been a variation of the opposite.
Narrator: The clap resulting from Maury’s palm colliding with Dr Carter’s face gained Ms Welles’ attention, causing her to pause her typing and look towards Dr Carter’s office with near-concern. She quietly hoped Dr Carter himself had been slapped, and that it stung. Unlike her boss, she was not disappointed.
Dr Carter: What the fu—?! Who are you guys?!
Maury, smugly grinning: I’m Maury Esposito, and this is my wife, Alessandra. We heard you were a marriage counsellor, and we’re seeking treatment.
Quickshot: More like Maury’s seeking treatment and I’m dragged along for the fuckin’ ride, asshole know-it-all saint he is.
Maury: She isn’t sincere, Dr Carter; you’ll have to excuse her. Her temper is what people fear most in this city. At least, it used to be.
Quickshot: It’s not your job to psychoanalyze me, Maury. Don’t you psycho me, Maury!
Maury, hands up in supplication as he returns to his seat: You’re right, bella; you’re right. Culpa. It’s your job, Dr Carter. We’ve cleared your schedule for the rest of the day, and we’ll have food brought to us periodically. You know, to ensure that you’re as dedicated to us as we are.
Quickshot: As you are, you imperial fuck.
Maury, shaking his head without looking at Quickshot: You don’t have to talk that way, Alessandra.
Quickshot: I know my rights! Agh… you’re so fuckin’ pious all the time, as if we didn’t go round blowin’ off chumps’ heads in our youth, like you weren’t as bloodstained as me at night! You’re not the Maury I fell in love with!
Maury: And I’m all the better for it!
Dr Carter, somehow garnering the courage to interrupt: Maybe! Maybe… maybe this is a good place to start. Alessandra – may I call you that?
Quickshot: Whatever.
Dr Carter, taking out his clipboard and a pen, crossing his legs to help convince his bladder not to unleash the pressure it suddenly filled with: Alessandra, can you tell me which Maury you fell in love with? How were things at the beginning of your marriage?
Alessandra: You want me to go first?
Dr Carter: Yes, please.
Alessandra: Alright, then. Just so long as that old fuck doesn’t interrupt me.
Maury: (pantomimes zipping his mouth and tossing away the key)