“I’m okay,” I say. Ray has his booze hanging out the window on a string—hiding it from these booze-thieves he’s trying to get away from—and before long he’ll have to face the music. Ray can never find a good place to hide his booze. He gets so drunk he can’t remember where he hid it when he sobers up.

Later on, he’s going to try to write a novel, pecking the title and his name out with two fingers. But he’s going to have a hard time. Ray is crazy about that booze, and doesn’t even know how to type.

She may start rubbing on me. That’s what I have to watch out for. That’s what she does. She gets in bed with me when I’m watching a movie and she starts rubbing on me. I can’t stand it. I especially can’t stand for the light to be on when she does it. If the light’s on when she does it, she winds up crying in the bathroom. That’s the kind of husband I am.

But everything’s okay, so far. She’s not rubbing on me yet. I go ahead and mix myself another drink. I’ve got a whole bottle beside the bed. We had our Christmas party at the fire station the other night and everybody got a fifth. My wife didn’t attend. She said every person in there would look at her. I told her they wouldn’t, but I didn’t argue much. I was on duty anyway and couldn’t drink anything. All I could do was eat my steak and look around, go get another cup of coffee.

“I could do something for you,” she says. She’s teasing but she means it. I have to smile. One of those frozen ones. I feel like shooting both of us because she’s fixed her hair up nice and she’s got on a new nightgown.

“I could turn the lamp off,” she says.

I have to be very careful. If I say the wrong thing, she’ll take it the wrong way. She’ll wind up crying in the bathroom if I say the wrong thing. I don’t know what to say. Ray’s just met this good-looking chick—Jane Wyman?—and I know he’s going to steal a lady’s purse later on; I don’t want to miss it.

I could do the things Ray Milland is doing in this movie and worse. Boy. Could I. But she’s right over here beside my face wanting an answer. Now. She’s smiling at me. She’s licking her lips. I don’t want to give in. Giving in leads to other things, other givings.

I have to say something. But I don’t say anything.