Ronald Rabbit Is a Dirty Old Man

36

Mrs. Laurence Clarke

c/o Kettleman

14 Fairfax

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Dear Fran:

I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for you. Yet, in a way, I’m glad that things turned out as they did, because you know now that life with Steve would have been utterly impossible for you. In that sense, Fran, it’s a damned good thing you found out as soon as you did. Imagine if you had married him. Imagine, if you will, if you had had children by him!

You know, I almost blame myself. Steve was my friend, and I have this loyalty thing that renders me blind to a friend’s faults. Even when I’m aware of them, I don’t let on to others.

If not for this, you never would have started an affair with Steve. I could have told you, for example, that the guy has a Nietzschean attitude toward women. You know the passage in Zarathustra about women being like dogs? The more you beat them, the more they love you? He used to walk around quoting that in college.

To put it bluntly, the man is a sadist. I don’t know what the brute did to you, but I can make a pretty good guess. If I’m right, you would never have had to worry about getting pregnant.

Well, let’s not dwell on unpleasant things. Although you’re absolutely right that our marriage is over — and was over, in many respects, well before you first started sleeping with Steve — I still feel responsible for your welfare. Maybe responsible is the wrong word for it. I care for you, Fran, and I’d like to see you get yourself back on the right track. An affair right now would be the worst thing for you, you’re dead right about that, but at the same time it’s not going to do you any good moping around with some old aunt in Albuquerque.

May I make a suggestion? I think what you need is some time in the open air, time to think, time to relax, time to reactivate your old interest in horseback riding under a clear and unpolluted sky. And, coincidentally enough, there’s a place right near where you are now that I happen to know of, and I can’t think of any spot in the world that would be better for you.

It’s the Bar-Bison Dude Ranch, and the mailing address is Altamont, New Mexico. Unlike so many resorts where you would have men constantly chasing after you, this is a genuinely relaxing place. Do me a favor. Hell, do yourself a favor. The minute you put down this letter, pick up the phone and call Bar-Bison and make a reservation. And go there right away.

I promise you it’ll do you a world of good.