Frolic of His Own (34 page)

—In this matter? For about twenty minutes.

—I, oh. I think, I think I, your delivery here I think he wants to be paid.

—It's right there, on that sideboard by the door now wait, where are you going.

—Yes I think I'd better, here? There's nothing here, you meant a check? or . . .

—Bills! Twenties, there's at least a dozen twenties there, right there by your elbow.

—But, there's nothing here no, no I'm afraid not Mister Crease.

—But, damn her! Ilse? Find my checkbook will you? in the library there, where's that glass of wine. Now wait, where are you going?

—Yes I'd better get back to the office for new instructions I, thank you I hope I haven't tired you, I'm sorry to have interrupted your holiday but we have such a backlog of yes, yes that reminds me Mister Crease, your front porch out here? I hope your homeowner's liability is paid up someone could have a nasty there, there's your phone . . .

—Here, wait a minute! Toot! toot! —Ilse? Just bring the bottle. Hello? Well! You finally tore yourself away from whatever unspeakable . . . what? Down on your knees scrubbing the kitchen floor I'm sure, listen Christina I want to speak to Harry . . . What do you mean asleep it's the middle of the day, of course I know that, it's Sunday here too isn't it? I've just had a hopeless confrontation with some idiot from the insurance company offering a ridiculously insulting settlement and I want Harry to dig up a really good negligence lawyer who can . . . Because I changed my mind! I simply decided to get a new one, that's . . . Because Basie's out of town, he's down there registering those letters in that historical society it's a requirement under the copyright law, when you bring suit for infringe . . . I don't know . . . I said I don't know Christina! Of course I haven't talked to him, it's this broken down old law clerk who's stirring up the trouble, he's got Father convinced that this whole mess he's in with the papers down there is my fault, that I . . . That he showed him that damned interview of course that's not what I said, they turned everything upside down and of course when he saw that seventy five million number they pulled out of a hat he thinks I did it just to publicize my lawsuit, that I . . . Well of course I didn't! I haven't even . . . Because he's seen the movie Christina! This law clerk took him to see it and of course he was horrified, if I'm suing them for stealing my play of course he thinks that's what I wrote, he never read my play did he? never showed any interest in it at all, now he's even convinced I wrote it in the first place just to exploit Grandfather and this whole madness angle they're playing up down there so it's my fault his appeals court seat is in jeopardy because it's his father who's being maligned, that it's my fault the . . . Well of course I know it's his father! He can't copyright his father can he? You remember when I wrote it Christina? the play? when I thought I'd finally done something to please him? that he'd be proud of I, that I, when I actually pictured taking him to opening night and all the wonderful reviews and it was ours, it was our
family, that it set us apart from the rest of the dumb insignificant meaningless swarms of people who, the unexamined lives because there's nothing in them to examine, something we'd have together finally after all the, after the . . . what? I know it Christina! but he wasn't that old when I wrote it was he? and now he thinks that I've sold him out that I've sold out everything we, that I've betrayed everything that I tried to, to glorify in a man who, what? but . . . From this law clerk where else, where else would I hear it? And another thing. Another thing Christina I've just heard from a director, a theatre director he's one of the most famous in Britain he's interested in my play and he, wait a minute. Just put it down there Ilse. And a glass? And get the bill from him over there will you? You've brought my checkbook, did it occur to you to bring me something to write with? Christina? are you there? What? Certainly not, why would I be having a seizure, I . . . It's not ridiculous, Christina! Out here all alone pinned down in this chair at the mercy of every stupid Tom Dick and, Ilse? A pen, I can't write a check in pencil, the pressures I'm under with nobody around who seems to care whether I live or I . . . Because that's what happens! Pressures keep building up suddenly a clot in some tiny blood vessel in the brain when you least expect it that's when tragedy strikes, and . . . That's what I said, yes! when tragedy strikes! These desolate grey skies out over the pond and the wind I just thought maybe you could come out for a few days and . . . well can you call me sometimes just to make sure I'm . . . all right! But call me! Use? Here's the check, get him out of here, and when I say bring me a glass I don't mean a water glass, a tumbler, how many times I've told you you don't drink wine in a tumbler. There are plenty of goblets out there, the ones with the heavy stems, those tall thin ones would all be smashed the way you pack the dishwasher. We've got to get things organized here, I can't do everything myself. These boxes of papers, they're just in the way, you can stack them back in the hall where they were I haven't got time to go through them right now. And these books. I want them piled right here where I can reach them, not over by the card table. And the card table? hadn't he asked her to move it so he wouldn't have to drive across the room whenever he needed a pad or a folder, taking the whole day to get things in order so he could get something done that he couldn't get anything done. The blue folder for accounts, there should be two of them, one for household accounts and one for bills to be filed until they were opened. Correspondence, mail, clippings, a separate folder for clippings and the morning paper, where was it? Where was she for that matter, not that he'd finished with yesterday's paper clipping that story on Chevitz settling his suit against Kiester for, or was it the day's before? Couldn't she simply leave the scissors in one place? borrowing them to cut open a package of bacon, was there any
reason a household like this one couldn't provide two pairs of scissors? Using a paring knife to open the mail, where was it, hadn't she finally learned to stack it right there? There was always mail, even the trash it was still mail wasn't it? something important that might have slipped into a big sale on camping equipment, washers and dryers, choice pork roast center cut like that invitation to lecture on Shiloh almost thrown out with porch and patio furniture, outdoor barbecues, snow tires and God knows what, the oil bill, trash removal $26.75 he punched out on the pocket calculator x 2 with a month's arrears and the window lit up with 8s end to end. —Ilse? Here you are. The batteries, put two AA size batteries on your list and the corn soup with those scallops, you've got to poach them very gently just two minutes or so, now around the neck and shoulders the way you did it yesterday? These strong thumbs digging deep down the base of the skull, the warmth spreading through muscles and tendons kneaded harder setting in a kind of somnolent rocking motion as the darkness accumulated out there over the pond, a blue heron stiff as a branch and two gulls tossed aimless overhead, white seagulls adrift on the currents of another glass before the darkness and the silence took it all until finally —you'll have to help me here he told her —just, there, get my leg over the side of the tub and ow! Boil me like a lobster, eight or nine minutes is long enough, boiled too long they get tough, nothing fancy just the plain melted butter and was there asparagus in the stores? All really just different ways to eat butter, asparagus, artichokes, a baked potato and he'd want another blanket tonight, more rain, two days of it, the newspaper strung on a clothesline in the kitchen to dry and the mail, Ace Fidelity, Lepidus, Shea & Blue Cross into the blue folder and couldn't she remember to bring back the wastebasket when she'd emptied it? A smudged postcard picture of Mickey Mouse in a cowboy suit
(HERE'S GUNNIN' FOR YOU!)
flung in its general direction when it arrived and that matchbook he'd been looking for, this wasn't it
(NEED CASH? INSTANT CREDIT 24HR. CASH LINE),
it was red,
(NEGLIGENCE? ACCIDENTS? INJURIES? MALPRACTICE? FREE PHONE CONSULTATION)
and another half glass, the sun finally streaming across the room blinding the television screen with reflections of furniture so it had to be moved for his afternoon nature program, those strong thumbs pressing deep along the muscles of his neck and shoulders hunched intent on the world of carnivorous plants in the warm marshy bog where dwelt Dionaea muscipula, the notorious Venus flytrap closing its barbed lips on a hapless victim and sticky doings in the milkweed occupied the screen, still aglow with catastrophe on the grander scale of the evening news embracing a wide variety of vehicles flung broadcast down a highway in a freak blizzard in the midwest and with it, searching the shadows in this room and
the darkness beyond a sense almost of panic, of the room standing empty, sold, when he'd gone, but where? or as suddenly shaken with the clatter of strangers moving in with their hideous furniture, —Ilse? and the smell of cabbage, —the plain boiled chicken, yes, just let it simmer and peppercorns, put in some peppercorns and do the rice in the same broth when the time came, couldn't she tell the difference between a salad fork and a dinner fork? and not to use a carving knife to pry open a jar or spread butter just because it was there within reach? And when the time came —you'll have to help me here he told her, easing a leg over the side if she'd just hold his shoulders so he wouldn't slip, arched over him in the steam easing him down, the full size of her hands flushed red in the water cradling the dead white shimmer of his thighs going under, wisps of tow brushing her throat in the trickle of perspiration arched over him easing him down where the merest token tumescence broke the surface, the transparent falsity he'd choked on in that cramped overheated sixty dollar seat where the curtain went up on a chorus line cavorting down the stage hymning the mockery of tits and ass no, here over him laboured the sweated splendour of buttocks and breasts intruding the abrupt image of milking her into the morning tea, where might he have read that? The wind out there wrapped the house like shipwreck, the whole place seemed to heave in the dark, —Ilse? he'd call out, —there's a door banging somewhere, hear it? if only to muster the sound of her footsteps, but worse, when they came they might have been anyone's, off groping in some unfamiliar reach colliding with a chair, a table, in that case he might tell her to simply leave all the lights on till the day came round again, the day that brought a man to the door selling aluminum siding, the day a large potted azalea delivered by mistake with a note You saved my life! signed Gwen was left to wither on the veranda and the gas for the kitchen stove ran out just at suppertime, prompting a feverish search for the source of that hoary inquiry What is worse than treason to one's king: A cold boiled potato on a white china plate, but soon enough replenished to offer, when the day itself finally came round, poached salmon served with carrots and olives sautéed in the Spanish style, despite the chance that —Mister Basie may not care for sautéed carrots. In the Spanish style. It sounds greasy.

—Well if he doesn't he'll be more polite about it than you are Christina, is that why you finally came all the way out here? just to criticize whatever I . . .

—You've been begging me to come out for days, for weeks haven't you? telling me you were having a seizure and the house was on fire? While you're simply sitting here with your Pinot Grigio putting on weight like a, sitting here behind this barricade of books and folders and papers
it looks like you're running a little store here like you wanted to when you were seven and made me buy those horrid shreds of coloured ribbon on safety pins you said were badges because I couldn't tell a penny from a dime, at least you're almost sitting up like a human being and not rolled in like a fish on a platter, at least you're getting your money's worth from this therapist aren't you?

—I got rid of the therapist.

—You get rid of the one person who's doing you any good, I should have guessed shouldn't I.

—Well you guessed wrong. Ilse's been doing my, those things, handling those things she . . .

—Handling what things. Does it ever occur to you to simply try to get up and walk, Oscar? Where is she.

—She's gone to do the shopping.

—You still have her riding around in a taxi to order your groceries? There must be a less extravagant way of buying a bunch of carrots. There is such a thing as the telephone.

—Well you don't have to eat them Christina! I just thought Mister Basie might like something a little diff . . .

—He's not coming all the way out here to eat carrots is he? I thought all these court papers were filed and you were just waiting for a decision.

—We are, but we, but he has some things he wants to talk to me about and, and he said he thought the two of us should sit down together.

—Well there is such a thing as the telephone, Oscar. For the two of you I mean, maybe you'd rather I didn't join you?

—I didn't say that did I? I just meant that I, that sometimes when I'm trying to . . .

—Well you do seem to get things rather muddled sometimes and need someone to step in and move them along, I'm sure he keeps the clock running even when he's eating carrots. I'm going for a walk, I'll be back for lunch. I wouldn't think of missing it.

Swans, a whole fleet of them, rumpled the still surface of the pond where she came down to follow the sandy edge of it, giving way finally to reeds and mud sending her up to the road past one silent hulk of a house well beyond a stone's throw from another closed, most of them, for winter, leading her on to the dunes, the shock of a wind borne in from the restless waves out there urging her down the empty beach all the way to the cut where the sea turned the pond brackish, harassing her every retraced step to the road till by the time the driveway led her in under those mangled pines she brought the chill right into the house and stood there shaking it off. —Oscar? Voices reached her rising on a tide of garlic and olive oil.