A NAME ON THE WALL

Steve Mason had lived in New York for three years. His address book was filled with the phone numbers of girls he knew and had dated. Then why, he wondered, was he sitting in a phone booth about to dial PL 1-2450 — the phone number of a girl he had never seen or even heard about?

Because he was curious.

He had seen the name Pam Starr and the number PL 1-2450 twice in one week.

The first time had been on the wall of a phone booth on 42nd Street. Then a minute ago he saw the name and number again — this time near a phone in a drugstore.

The name Pam Starr was the same. The handwriting was the same. And below it the same person had written, "Quite a chick".

Steve was so curious that he decided to call. He wanted to find out what would happen. It could be an interesting adventure.

He could hear himself telling the whole story to his friends and laughing about it when it was over.

So he took a deep breath and dialled PL 1-2450.

He heard two rings; then a soft, pleasant, girl's voice said, "Hello".

"May I speak to Pam Starr?" Steve asked.

"This is Pam," she answered. "Who is this?"

"Steven Wordsley," he said using a phoney name. "You don't know me," he added quickly. "I've just moved to New York from Chicago. But before I left, a friend of a friend of mine gave me your name... So how about a date?" He paused.

"Come on. Gamble.I swear I don't have two heads."

She laughed and said, "I'm sure you don't. I've got an idea. I like your voice, and I think I'll like you. But I might not.

And then again, you might not like me.

So why don't we go to a movie? You pick one out and call me back. Then we'll go out, and even if we don't like each other at least we can both enjoy the show."

"Uh, all right, sure," Steve answered. He felt proud of himself. There was no question in his mind that this chick knew her way around with men.

Steve found a movie that sounded good, but he didn't call her back right away. He waited two days so he wouldn't seem too eager. Then he called and made a date for the next Saturday evening.

At seven-thirty Saturday night Steve went to her address. For a moment he hesitated. But he was too curious to give up now.

She opened the door, and Steve knew he was a loser. The girl had tried to make herself look attractive, but she couldn't hide her homeliness. She wasn't really ugly, but she was no gorgeous chick.

Steve covered up his disappointment with a friendly smile. "Hello, Pam. I'm Steve."

She laughed and said, "I know I'm not the most beautiful girl in the world, but —"

"I wasn't looking for the most beautiful girl in the world," Steve lied. "Come on, let's go see the movie."

He smiled as cheerfully as he could.

This homely girl probably accepted a lot of blind dates just so she could go out.

And someone probably thought it was a good joke to write her name and number on the walls of phone booths.

"Do you go out often?" Steve asked.

"It's probably luck," she said, "but I get enough phone calls to keep me busy. I get a lot of calls from guys I don't know. I'm not sure where they get my name. Maybe from a friend, like you did. I don't know. Some are nice and some aren't."

"Well, which am I?" Steve asked.

"Nice," she laughed.

On their way back to her apartment, Steve lied again and told Pam that his company was sending him back to Chicago the next week and that he didn't know when he would return to New York.

Steve couldn't decide if she believed his story, but he didn't really care. He had taken her out and shown her a good time.

That was all she could expect with her looks.

When they got to her apartment, they stood in the doorway and said goodnight.

"Thanks for the lovely evening," she said. She seemed to know that she wouldn't be asked for another date.

Suddenly Steve felt very sorry for her.

He decided that it wouldn't hurt him to fake an interest in her, and it would probably mean a lot to her if she thought someone wanted to see her again.

"I'm sorry I have to leave town," he said. "There's just a chance that I'll get back to New York soon. For a day or so. Maybe we can go out again. Could I call you?"

For a minute she looked as if she didn't believe what she had heard. Then her smile got brighter. "Could you? I'd love that! Do you think they'll send you back soon?"

"Sure, sure, you never know," Steve said.

"You won't lose my number, will you? But if you're here only for a day, you could call me at my office. I'll write down my office number for you right now. Wait just a second."

She ran into her apartment to get a pencil and some paper. As she ripped a sheet from a pad, she dropped the pencil on the floor. She got down on her hands and knees and scrambled after the rolling pencil. Finally she grabbed the pencil and then quickly wrote her name and office phone number.

Steve watched her sadly. Even before she handed him the piece of paper, he knew that her handwriting would be the same as the handwriting on the phone booth walls.

(After R. Marmorstein)

1 drugstore ['diwgsto:] амер. аптека

2 quite a chick [tjik] зд. классная девчонка

3 Chicago [Ji'kaigau] Чикаго

4 Gamble ['gaembl] зд. Рискни

5 knew her way around with men умела обращаться с мужчинами

6 blind date [.blaind 'deit] свидание вслепую (с человеком, которого раньше не видел)