Collected Fictions (12 page)

LISTEN, JEROME DARLING
, I want to give you every assurance your father would not blame you for one second if you went and got another new unlisted on top of the one you just got. But why knock yourself out, cutie guy, why? Use your common sense! You think your father would stand by and let you have to go all of the way down to the telephone company for you to wait around to all hours until they get good and ready down there to inform you as to the ins and outs of all of your new digits? Believe me, boychik, you only have to ask and your father will spare you all this heartache. Because even if with just my mouth breathing it's so loud you couldn't bear it in your brain, forget the phone company, all you got to do is speak up. Do you think I your father would deny you one shred of your happiness for one single minute? So why hesitate? A little tiny signal is all your father asks of you. You wouldn't even have to lift a finger if the uproar the blood in my veins makes happens to constitute for you such a terrible perturbance to your privacy you don't get the peace and quiet you need for you to go ahead and be a genius. You could wink, darling. Lifting a finger, I definitely do not recommend it for an artistic person. Who knows, you might strain something—it's not worth it for you to take a chance as far as a hernia. One wink, Jerrychik, and all your worries will be over. One wink from my sonny boy will be more than sufficient. Because forget it, your father will take it from there, your father will do all of the running, whereas you yourself could just sit back and relax and write for everybody another bestseller. Don't worry, don't worry, you wouldn't even have to give me a whole wink if you decide in your mind you don't feel up to it. Darling, you could give your father maybe a mini-wink if this is your decision. Because I guarantee you, sweetheart, one mini-wink from his genius and already your father will be racing up the stairs of this building, hoping and praying in his heart of hearts the management didn't put no railing around the roof so I couldn't jump without calling for assistance. Believe me, I apologize, Jerome, that your father didn't when he moved in here exhibit the foresight to go up and take a look to see the setup there in the first place.

But do I make myself clear, sweetness? Answer me, darling, it is not going in one ear and out the other? Because I want you to know that your father could not kill himself fast enough if this is what it takes for him to make sure his sonny boy gets every last ounce of all of the bliss he's as a genius got coming to him. But I ask you, pussycat, solitude? Are you telling me forever and forever solitude and seclusion, this is what it takes? Because your father is willing to learn, sweetheart, so tell me. So show me where in the book it says solitude and seclusion is the same thing as happiness and contentment, and meanwhile one peep out of anybody who adores you to pieces is such a tragedy you definitely couldn't stand it one instant. In black and white, Jerome, show your father who cherishes you where this is written. Because as dumb as your father is, the man is still keeping an open mind. But until you get good and ready to show him, in the interim don't excite yourself, darling, your father just gave you his solemn promise. If a telephone call or a postcard or a letter is such a struggle for you that you couldn't take it, even if it's only for hello and for good-bye and for I hope I didn't make too much of an aggravation for you and disturb you, then relax, precious, don't worry, one mini-wink from you will settle the whole affair. Do you hear me? One semi-demi-mini-wink and your father will be only too happy and glad to make you a present of his own dead body. And you know what, sweetheart? You wouldn't even have to thank me for it if you are too busy being a genius and a hermit and the light of my life.

Are you listening to me, boychik? Are you paying strict attention? Your father is not talking just for him to hear himself talk? Because I can't rest for a single solitary second until I make sure in my heart of hearts you heard me. Listen, maybe you should write it down as to the fact that your father is ready and willing to go to his grave in case his presence here on this earth does not give his boychik all of the privacy in 603 he needs. Also, make a note that a full wink is utterly uncalled for. A little wiggle of the eyelid like you are maybe just thinking of winking but are probably too busy with business for you to do it, I promise you your father will run next door to another building if, God forbid, it turns out that this one here they already put up a railing up on the roof. Sweetheart, I only hope and pray the upshot is I do not have to go next door and keep you waiting. As God is my judge, I'm sorry, but at my years and age, a railing, who knows, maybe I could not climb over it so fast, whereas there is meanwhile nobody up there who they're paying to give me a boost. But even if the next building it's the same story, it's okay, darling, it's okay, there's buildings here up and down the block here, and your father will just keep looking high and low until, God help him, something finally goes ahead and works out.

This, Jaydeezie, is my solemn promise to you. And all I got to say is that I am down on my hands and knees thanking God that your father still got the strength in his body to give you his sworn statement from him to you in writing. But, believe me, Jerome, if it happens to turn out that in all these years this is what you always needed, you only had to say
SO.
Because it's just like with the man who goes to get the suit. So he says to the tailor, "You'll make me a suit—whatever it costs, it costs, I want the best, so don't worry." And the tailor says to the man, "Okay, I'm sparing nothing. The cloth I'm getting special from Borneo, the thread I'll have made up in China, and for the buttons I am thinking in terms of a yak they got in Turkey, buttons from the horns of that yak." So the man says to the tailor, "This sounds to me like a wonderful suit, so when can I get it, this suit?" and the tailor says to the man, "A production like this, from here and from there, everything made up to order, we are talking six, eight months minimum!" So the man says, "Six, eight
months
! How can I wait six, eight months if I got a bar mitz-vah this Saturday and was thinking of wearing the suit?"

Jerome darling, would you like to listen with your own two ears to what this tailor says to this man? Because this is what this tailor says to the man. He says to him, "You need it, you'll get it."

So do I make myself clear, Jerome? Why stand on ceremony? You will wiggle your eyelid a little teensy wiggle and in two seconds your father will take myself right out of the picture for you, no questions asked, all bets are off, good-bye and good luck and forget it!

MEANWHILE
, who knows, maybe I am jumping to too many conclusions. Maybe 603 wasn't working right because of the High Holy Days, such a strain all of a sudden on the electricity. Let's face it, they probably got sons and daughters galore calling all day down here from all of the different area codes, and meanwhile your father is the only person who is calling in the opposite direction, so maybe I got some kind of funny hookup and it wasn't even 603 in the first place. But be this as it may, you still do not say go get lost to a person when he is asking you a perfectly civilized question. Listen, darling, please God they don't get fired up there in 603 and come down here to 305 looking. Because I am entirely at liberty to tell you that with a mouth on them like the one your father heard, they don't hire you so fast in this area code down here. Not even if you got in your pocket the personal recommendation of a genius!

Jerrychik sweetie, it's forgotten and forgiven, so let's forgive and forget. Meanwhile, it's the High Holidays again, so is this the right time for bitterness and recrimination? Sweetie boy, it's water under the bridge. So let's do ourselves a favor and change the conversation. It's a fresh start, boychik. So what if it is another whole year down the drain and everything is still under par at your end of the bargain? You think your father is keeping score with regard to the question of who sends who cards and letters, never mind who doesn't even place a simple phone call? So big deal if everybody else in 305 is getting. You think I don't know I don't have the right to expect a little decency and consideration from you when it could always happen you might get a rupture from lifting the wrong pencil? Listen, perish the thought that your father should even look twice at a mailman. Why kid ourselves? Who remembers what one of these individuals even looks like anymore, it has been so many years since a person had the pleasure.

Listen, darling, before you forget, with your own two hands you better check around for the nearest blunt instrument. Because I hear myself talk to you and what is it I hear but criticism after criticism? Promise me, Jerome, you won't go out and spend too much money on what's the top of the line in blunt. So long as it's under twenty dollars, go ahead and make the investment and then give it to me right between the eyes or over here on the back of the head over here, whichever you decide in your mind, darling, is from your standpoint more convenient. Because here I am, writing to bring you High Holiday greetings, and what am I bringing my cutie guy but recrimination after recrimination in spite of my honest wholesome intentions. And even if it is all for your own benefit, Jerome, I still say shame on me, shame on me! Look, when you get through with the blunt instrument, you should leave instructions for them to put your father in the gas chamber and keep him on bread and water. No leniency, Jerome—your father didn't earn in his lifetime not one iota of leniency or clemency or for good behavior time off! The gas chamber and then the rubber hose, Jerome, even measures in the big leagues like this is still too good for a human being of my caliber.

Sonny boy, can you find it in your heart of hearts to wipe the slate clean? Because so far as your father is concerned, from this very instant it is a whole new ball game. It's like we are starting out from the outset, okay? Whatever I your father said to you and didn't remember to bite my tongue first, promise me, darling, you erased it. I mean, it just occurred to me, who knows, you maybe sent a little something but you forgot it about the zip code. Please, a genius like my precious with so much on his brain, so who's got room in a thing like a brain like that for so many unimportant numbers? But ask yourself, you leave off the zip code, do the morons deliver? Believe me, an individual should sit there and count their lucky stars if they do not also come after you to your own personal address and then tear you limb from limb.

It's the truth, Jerrychik—nothing is these days what it used to be, not in any shape or manner or form. It's nothing like it was in the old days. Tell me, darling, you remember how it was in the old days back when you were at the top of the heap and your father was down here up there in the penthouse? So guess who is in the penthouse now. So can you guess? Because the Bellow people is the answer! And after them, it's the Krantzes which is second on the list to get in there. But in the good old days, it was all different. These days, maybe you got the right idea, a hermit. Believe me, don't think your father has not considered from this perspective. I look at it the way it is these days, Jerrychik, and I have to say to myself, "Sol, maybe we should all go live where the operator hears they are looking for you and she tells them, whoever they are, beat it, forget it, take a hike, you dumb cluck."

These days, sweetness, it is things of every description, and you know what? Can I tell you what? Because my hand to God, just a fraction of it is enough to make your father vomit. Go look if you don't believe me, darling. Like even in the kindergarten you hear the teacher say to the children it's milk time, take out your milk, drink please your milk. But, lo and behold, nowadays there is always the child which would not for love nor money touch the milk. So the child your father has in mind, his name is the Goldbaum boy and the teacher says to him, she says, "Goldbaum, drink your milk." But how does Goldbaum answer this woman? Because you would not believe this, Jerome, but the child says to the woman, "I wouldn't drink the goddamn milk."

This, Jerome, this is how in this day and age a child answers! So I do not have to tell you, the teacher goes right that instant to the telephone and she telephones the child's mother and she says to this woman to come over. So when Mrs. Goldbaum gets there, the teacher says to the woman, "Please, I want you to hear this," and then the teacher stands there and she says to the boy, "Goldbaum, drink your milk."

Jerome darling, as I live and breathe, this is how the child answers her back the second time. Are you paying attention, Jerome? Because the child, he says to the teacher, "Not only I wouldn't drink the goddamn milk for you, but you could also shove it up your tookis."

Did you hear this, Jerome? Sweetheart, can you in all your born days believe this, Jerome?

So you know what happens next? Darling, that teacher turns to that mother and she says to the woman, "Did you hear what your child just said?" Whereas, Jerome, I am ashamed to say it, it makes your father's blood run cold for him to say it, but that mother turns to that teacher and says to the woman, "Sure, I heard him—fuck him!"

Sonny boy, this is what today's world is. Did you hear me, pussycat? Because this—this!—is what your world of today is. And don't worry, boychik, believe me, even in 305 your father took the time and noticed. But speaking of the subject of mothers, Jerome, I just remembered something. Because maybe you called to say hello and your father was not here to answer. So even if you called at night, Jerome, it could have happened, darling, the reason I your father was not here for me to pick it up was because of a certain Mrs. Pinkowitz. And you know what? Can I tell you what? Because I am not for one instant ashamed to admit it!

I know I don't need to remind you that your father is a grown man, Jerome. In case you did not maybe yet realize, your father is meanwhile an adult. So as a grown man and as an adult, cutie guy, excuses I do not have to make to anyone, a certain unmentionable resident of 603 included. Sonny boy, these are the facts of life, and it was definitely not your father which happened to invent them.