A Serious Man (11 page)

Larry stares at her. Mrs. Samsky gazes back. Her look displays
equanimity; his, not
.

Finally:

Her look holds for one more beat and then she swivels and opens the
drawer of an end table
.

She turns back with a joint
.

She lights it
.

She hands the joint over.

Larry handles the bitty cigarette with trepidation
.

Some minutes later. They drift and click in the air blown from the floor
vents
.

Larry stares at them
.

After a long beat:

Another long beat. Neither person feels compelled to speak.

The joint makes another trip back and forth.

Then:

He trails off, listening
.

The Samskys’ door bursts open and Larry stumbles out. He stares
.

The police car has stopped in front of his own house next door, lightbar
still flashing. Two cops are going up the walk, escorting Uncle Arthur
in handcuffs
.

Larry, stunned, walks woodenly toward his house
.

Neither the cops nor Uncle Arthur has heard. They have rung the
doorbell and now disappear inside
.

Larry calls louder
–

–
and starts to sprint. Behind him Mrs. Samsky has emerged from her
house
.

At his house Larry takes the stoop steps two at a time. His door stands
open and the theme from F Troop issues from within
.

Just inside the two policemen stand with their backs to us and Uncle
Arthur in between. The three men face Danny, who addresses them,
projecting over the music from the TV
.

This brings the cops’ look around. Uncle Arthur also turns, shamefaced,
to Larry
.

Mrs. Samsky appears behind Larry on the stoop
.

Larry is brought up short
.

Don Milgram sits thinking, bouncing steepled fingers against his nose.
Larry waits for his analysis
.

Finally:

Long beat
.

Larry’s gaze wanders. He becomes wistful
.

A beat
.

An uncomfortable beat, broken by a knock at the door. Don projects:

The door cracks open. A pipe edges in, followed by a peeking face:
Solomon Schlutz.

Solomon Schlutz is a large man in shirtsleeves and suspenders. He
has the smooth impassive face of a sphinx with a pipe clenched in its
teeth
.

He glides into the room, a sheaf of files tucked under one arm.

A confirming grunt from Solomon Schlutz as he continues to arrange
the files, his eye occasionally lingering on a specific page.

This sally does not even earn a grunt from Solomon Schlutz, who
continues to shuffle papers into order, now and then pausing to squint
.

Don smiles at Larry and fills the silence:

Solomon Schlutz clears his throat and both men instantly give him
their attention
.

He carefully justifies the edges of the closest pile of papers, takes the
pipe from his mouth, gives Larry a smile that seems to take some
effort, and then taps the pipe in a large glass ashtray
.

He looks up again at Larry, this time shocked. His stunned look on
Larry holds for a long beat
.

Larry returns a bewildered look
.

Solomon Schlutz, staring at Larry as if he were some sort of monster,
emits one barking syllable:

His stare holds. He reddens
.

Solomon Schlutz’s face travels from the red end of the spectrum to the
violet
.

The pipe clatters out of his hand. The hand grabs at his own shirt
front.

Now his head pitches back. His backflung weight and twisting body
send his chair tipping over, one hand still clutching at his chest while
the other frantically waves. He disappears behind the conference table
and lands with a floor-shaking thump. His writhing and gurgling
remain audible
.

Don Milgram has risen to look down at his fallen colleague; now he
flings open the conference room door and bellows into the office:

A secretary looks in and screams
.

Larry walks into the outer office clutching his briefcase, eyes wide,
shell-shocked. The secretary looks up from her phone
.

Larry sits in heavily behind his desk
.

A beat
.

He opens the top-left desk drawer. He withdraws the bulging white
envelope and opens its flap
.

He runs a finger over the wad of bills
.

He looks up, startled
.

Arlen Finkle stands in the doorway.

Larry sits frozen, holding the envelope
.

He puts the envelope in the desk drawer and closes it
.

Arlen looks at him, shocked
.

Larry calms somewhat
.

A beat. Larry nods
.

Larry is making strenuous love to Mrs. Samsky
.

She rolls on top of Larry to straddle him and, while humping, she
lights a mentholated cigarette. Larry moans
.

Above her head is the low cottage-cheese ceiling of the bedroom.
Outside we can hear Mr. Brandt mowing the lawn
.

We hear the front door opening
.

Larry hisses:

Footsteps are approaching along the hall. Mrs. Samsky does not react;
her look, though uninvolved, stays on Larry even as the bedroom door
opens behind her and Clive Park enters wearing a traffic mask
.

Larry is mortified:

Mrs. Samsky blows smoke into Larry’s eyes
.

Close on Larry as his eyes close against the smoke and then open
again. A shadow falls across his face
.