Frolic of His Own (64 page)

—Oh look, look!

—My God Lily what is it now.

—No out there Christina, look. Look, it's snowing.

And where they looked next morning the frozen pond was gone in an unblemished expanse of white under a leaden sky undisturbed by the flight of a single bird in the gelid stillness that had descended to seize every detail of reed and branch as though time itself were frozen out there threatening the clatter of teacups and silver and the siege of telephoning that had already begun with —well when, just tell me when I can talk to him, will you tell him I called? as he slammed it down. —His law clerk, I think he'd been drinking.

—At this hour?

—At any hour, working for Father for forty years you could get in the habit. I ask him about my appeal and sending that lawyer up here with the brief and he just chuckles and tells me Father's ripping his knickers on this idiotic Cyclone Seven case and asks if I got those jury instructions in the case of the boy that got drownded and whether I've seen any good movies lately, I couldn't even . . .

—What was the name of that lawyer in your accident case, this last letter you got? she broke through a rustle of newspaper without listening, —did you see this?

—What. It was Jack, Jack something . . .

—Preswig? thrusting the pages at him, —This may interest you.

—Wait, I need my glasses.

—You need a handkerchief, I think you're getting a cold. Your friend Mister Preswig was arrested for digging a three foot pothole in the middle of the night up on Third Avenue where a client had had a serious accident, maybe that's why the girl told you he's no longer with us.

—But he, they sent me a bill yesterday for sixteen hun . . .

—What did you expect, you're suing the hit and run driver who ran over you aren't you?

—No I'm suing his, I mean my, I'm suing the insurance company for the owner of the car who are suing the, I think they're suing the dealer, the original dealer who's suing the car's maker it's all in the letter I got with this bill about a postponement for that summons to appear as a witness against the, I'd better call them . . . and the siege went on, from —Mister Mohlenhoff? This is . . . well can you tell me when he'll be in? to
—Nipples yes, I'm trying to reach Sir John Nip . . . well can you tell me when he'll be in? his voice growing hoarse as the day wore on, —then can you simply tell them I called! till the one time it rang back just at suppertime, —It's always at suppertime, hello? And when he joined them at the table a minute later, —some idiot doing a survey in our area who understands I am the owner of a house with a septic tank.

—The veal's a little dry Lily, do you think we could have some more wine?

—Oh. It's right here, it gets dark so early it's like eating in the middle of the night, seizing his wrist bolt upright there in the eerie light of the fish tank with —What's that! It was nothing he told her, a woodpecker out on the shingles.—Well it scared me. Why do you always have to go upstairs after, that dumb fish staring at us and this spooky tap tap tap out there like the police in the movie just before they broke the door down all of it scares me, it might be Al out there why can't you go to sleep right here, I mean by now she knows what we do in here doesn't she? Can't you, no here, give me your hand. There. Feel it?

—Well for God's sake Lily see a doctor, came at her next morning over burnt crusts of the last of the bread and the scrapings of ginger preserve, —you've heard of a mammogram haven't you? Is Oscar down yet? as though that might have made any difference, day fading into day like the snow receding, porous and pocked by the passage of rabbits, gone altogether with a night of rain leaving the yellowed grass of the lawn where a squirrel came scratching haphazard, cocked upright its tail atremor with indecision and off again on some frantic search of its own, leaving her gazing out over the still pond where two, three white tail deer broke cover on the opposite shore and were gone, her hands twisting one in the other behind her, —it's the waiting, the waiting, vulnerable to any such intrusion of sheer inconsequence, of triumph or calamity as abruptly outlandish by the time the day's light had begun to fade as the still apparition of a car standing there deep green in the drive square before her eyes —my God! Harry? Where are you.

—He called while you were up taking a . . .

—He's here Lily, where is he.

—He can't be, he called while you were up taking a bath and said he'd be out day after . . .

—He's here, our car standing out there can't you see it? God I hope nothing's wrong, he . . .

—But it's not. It's Oscar's.

—What's Oscar's.

—That new car out there, they delivered it while you were up taking a . . .

—It can't be! catching her balance on the arm of the sofa where she came down heavily, —that's the most ridiculous, where is he.

—He's in there laying down with his cold, it's practically laryngitis he can hardly . . .

—Will you simply tell me what's going on here! He can't buy a car, he hasn't got the money to buy a car like that what do you mean Harry called, why didn't you call me.

—Because he was in this real hurry, all he wanted to say was to tell you he'd be . . .

—He said he's coming out here?

—That's what I'm telling you, can't you just listen! He's coming out tomorrow with something about Oscar's appeal he said may not please him so not to get into it with Oscar before he talks to him so he doesn't get the wrong idea with them showing the movie on television and all that.

—And all what! on television my God how did, when.

—I don't know, he didn't . . .

—Well can't you look in the paper? Where's the paper.

—I don't know, he just said Oscar ought to be restrained till . . .

—From what, out buying new cars without even, that car out there how can he pay for it, he can't even . . .

—All he said was they just needed the down payment and he was in there looking in the trash for those Handichecks you threw out.

—Where's the paper. It's not on tonight is it? Ought to be restrained my God, he doesn't know about it yet does he? I mean don't mention it to him till we have to or he won't be fit to live with.

—You know what I bet you a dollar? with an abrupt clatter of heels toward the hall leaving open the odds and the hazard itself so certain of returning a minute later with the winning hand holding —the paper, see? blazoning it forth paged open to Gala Television Premiere, the magnificent soul searing Civil War epic starring Robert Bredford and —see? He's already seen it.

—What did he say, when is it.

—He's asleep. It's not till tomorrow.

—Thank God. And I mean don't wake him up she said, her voice drowning with exhaustion like the day out there draining away over the pond, the same words lain in wait through the night to charge daybreak with a burst of panic —for God's sake don't wake him up! where she stood holding the phone, —Harry? I don't know what we'll tell him just hurry, as soon as you can yes just hurry! hanging it up —now, the paper, where is it.

—Right there where we were looking at it yester . . .

—Today's! Today's paper has it come yet? My God Lily don't stand there, get a coat and go out for it! Quickly! doing up the dishabille of the gown she'd slept in with the same distracted intensity she'd turn to the pages of the paper now she had her hands on it, —the obituary page, you've got the business section there, look in the index.

—Is this it?

—Yes, give it to me yes she said almost a whisper, sinking back on the sofa —this is it, staring as fixed as the black words staring back at her there, THOMAS L. CREASE, 97, VETERAN JURIST, the unsparing finality of the bold letters belying the hesitating retinue of finer shades in the halftone likeness peering over her shoulder at —Lily? will you, just make some tea will you?

—I put the water on. He looks real young doesn't he.

—Well my God it's an old picture, I mean it was probably taken before you were born. Judge Thomas L. Crease, a veteran of almost a half century on the Federal bench and the son of a legendary Supreme Court justice for whom he clerked as a youth, died yesterday in his chambers at the district court here. He was ninety seven years old and succumbed to a massive heart attack, according to his law clerk who was with him at the time. As highly regarded by his colleagues for his wide grasp and strict interpretation of constitutional law as for the fastidious language with which he framed that idiot, why didn't he call us! With him at the time, he could have picked up the phone right there in the Judge's chambers and called us couldn't he? What time is it now, I'll try to call him before we have Oscar on our hands here, I don't think we need to tell him just yet Lily. For his own sake, God knows what state he's in and Harry's coming out, I think we can wait till then when I've talked to this law clerk, he probably sat right down and poured a stiff drink when it happened thank God he didn't call, he would have got Oscar and we would have been up all night weeping and wailing, I mean it had to happen sooner or later there's nothing to go to pieces about, he was almost a hundred years old wasn't he? Where are you going, you're not going to wake him up are you?

—No, I think the water's boiling for the . . .

—Well just try to be as quiet as you can, I want to make this call and find out what arrangements he's making down there before the juices start flowing and he sets up a state funeral, and some toast if there's any bread? And by the time the tray came rattling uneasily up the hall she'd hung up the phone and was back with the paper, —of course he doesn't answer but it's all right here at the end anyhow thank God. His appointment to the U.S. Court of Appeals which, where is it. Regarded by his colleagues as intransigent and even somewhat eccentric, his fierce judicial
commitment to First Amendment rights occasionally collided with an equally strong sense of privacy in such intemperate outbursts off the bench as ‘Damn the public's right to know!' This disposition found similar expression elsewhere in his habit of destroying early drafts of his judicial opinions threatening to place him at the mercy of collectors and biographers, echoing Justice Holmes in his wish to be known only by the final product with the observation that how he got there was his own affair, an approach carried through to the last in his stipulation, according to his law clerk, for immediate cremation with no funeral services of any sort and the forbidding of a grave marked by a cross or any other such barbaric instrument of human torture well thank God, I mean that takes care of that. There's no toast?

—There's no bread.

—Hand me my cup, I'm going up and get dressed, you'd better get something on before the oh, get the phone, if it's Harry again . . .

—Hello? who . . . Oh. It's him.

—Harry?

—It's this law clerk, he . . .

—Here give it to me. Hello? He's not up yet, this is . . . yes, Christina. I just saw it in the paper, I mean why didn't you call us yesterday when it happened, we . . . Well I know there's nothing we could have done but my God! Letting us just happen to stumble on it in the paper like every Tom Dick and . . . Harry? my husband Harry you called him? When was . . . well when did he call you!

—I just heard Oscar coughing in there, I think he's awake.

—Just a minute. Take him something Lily here, take him this cup of tea and make him stay in bed until we, hello? Well I know that yes, I know that it's right here in the paper isn't it? I have to learn there's no funeral by reading it in the paper like a million other . . . Well I'm sure you've been catching them faster than you can string them down there but my God after all we, what? up here? Why are you coming up here, we . . . You? you mean he made you his executor? but, but . . . Well my God I know we're the next of kin! I mean why in God's name did he make you his . . . Well if it's that simple an estate and you've already filed his will for probate what do we . . . what papers to sign, we . . . I said I know we're the survivors! My God, do we need you to tell us we're the beneficiaries of course we're the beneficiaries! Now . . . well when, when are you coming, we can . . . No now don't be ridiculous you can't come on the bus, you can fly up here and . . . on a plane, you can fly up here on a plane can't you? and we'll send a car to the . . . Well a lot of people have never flown before I mean my God the woods down there must be full of them, you . . . I know the bus is cheaper! We'll pay your air fare we're not penniless are we? I mean you
can charge it to the estate you're the executor aren't you? We'll send a car to the airport to meet you and . . . no I appreciate it thank you, I appreciate your trying to save the estate's money but that's hardly the . . . Well I'm sure whatever these personal effects are you can get them on the plane, if you can't you can ship them up later but I mean don't bring up things like all his old clothes, if there's one thing we don't need here it's a closetful of . . . Well fine. If there are a lot of needy folks there fine, give them whatever you . . . and his books yes, you can simply ship those later can't you? I mean I'm sure they're no earthly use to people who probably never reached third grade or can even . . . No I have to go, will you call? when you've made your travel arrangements and we'll see that someone meets you? Now, Lily? Lily!

—He's getting up anyway, I couldn't . . .

—I'm sure all this will keep until Harry gets out here with some bad news of his own, isn't that what he told you yesterday when he called?

—Only something about Oscar's appeal that he said may not please him before he sees the . . .