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Authors: William Gaddis

Frolic of His Own (68 page)

BOOK: Frolic of His Own
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—I'll get it Oscar here, this whole long story look. He looks real young here doesn't he.

—Lily for God's sake will you, just do as I asked you and some glasses, bring some more glasses will you? and flinging a hand at the bloody aftermath and weeping mothers of three teenagers slain in drug shootout —and will you turn that thing off!

—Gave him a nice long obit there though didn't they, never knew he'd clerked for your grandfather on the High Court Oscar, probably where he got all his . . .

—Where they got all their nonsense about madness and, did you read it all? just like what we just saw, long distinguished career but instead
they rattle on about that ridiculous mob scene down there, at the time of his death. Judge Crease had only the night before handed down his last decision in a First Amendment case dealing with the notorious outdoor steel sculpture known as Cyclone Seven, overshadowing his long and distinguished career on the Federal bench in clouds of public controversy reaching his court in various guises, most recently the highly publicized ‘Spot decision' and another just adjudicated in a related matter involving trademark infringement by a manufacturer of novelty mittens, repeatedly subjecting him to a campaign of vilification as a coldblooded unAmerican atheist in a tumult culminating in his being burned in effigy. These events had obstructed his appointment to the U.S. Court of Appeals, widely viewed in light of his advanced age as an interim political appointment, which was cleared yesterday morning by the Senate Judiciary Committee following the abrupt collapse of the virulent opposition led by Senator Orney Bilk who had gone so far as to call for his impeachment. Reached for comment today, Senator Bilk said no, listen to this! Did you read it?

—Good obit isn't it, didn't quite finish it but . . .

—Listen! Spurred by his constituents' expressions of respectful affection for Judge Crease in the handling of a recent case of wrongful death, Senator Bilk stated that ‘In exemplifying the highest ideals of our great American judicial system without fear of favor, Judge Thomas Crease leaves us all in his eternal debt, and like his illustrious father before him, now he belongs to the ages' did you, God! did you read that Harry? Did you see that?

—Just give him the glass Lily and, wait you'd better just bring in another bottle.

—Christina did you hear that! Now he belongs to the, it's revolting.

—Well my God it's true isn't it? I mean he was really a great . . .

—But from a mouth like that, those glorious words in a dirty mouth like Bilk's he's never said a decent, never told the truth in his life every low rotten thing he's ever said about Father about Grandfather all of us now he's got the, the brazen insolence a moment like this to dare to try to, it's revolting he ought to be shot.

—Politics Oscar, just politics, sees where the parade is heading and jumps in front to lead it, pretty startling turnaround but people have short memories first thing a politician learns, jump right in and give them new ones, got an election coming up remember that, that's all he . . .

—Remember it! That's what I, listen. Listen, you know what he'll do if we don't stop him? The funeral Harry, Father's funeral he'll come to the funeral and take it over for himself, come to bury Caesar that, that bastard will get up there with the American flag and the Stars and Bars and launch
into a harangue about the sacred rights of this mob of honest citizens black folk and white alike under the glorious canopy of the US Constitution that he . . .

—Oscar?

—Don't interrupt me Christina listen! Thank God I thought of it, Christian values of our great republic that Father defended with his life to the very last breath God gave him and now he belongs to the ages if we don't stop him, we've got to do something before it's too late call them, call the . . .

—Oscar! Now listen to me, there's not going to be one, sit still and try to relax there's not going to be a funeral and that takes care of that, now . . .

—What do you, who said there's not! He was an important man Christina a great man of course he'll have a, he ought to have a state funeral after a career like that he's part of history, you think there aren't important people in the bar who'll want to get up and pay a few words of tribute like I will? I owe him at least that don't I? Don't I? And you want to sit there and decide he won't have a funeral just because you . . .

—What! because what! Because he wasn't my own father? Be, because I came in here like a, dragged in here by my mother like an orphan who never . . .

—Oscar quit it! She's already real upset can't you see that? She didn't decide it anyway he did, your daddy did it's right there in that thing you're reading if you'd just read it before you start yelling and blaming everybody read it, read it! but she snatched it away —right here, it's right here someplace where it says here, in his stipu, his stipulation according to his law clerk for immediate cremation with no funeral services of any sort and forbidding a grave marked by a cross or, hand her some of those tissues while you're standing there will you?

—I, I'm sorry Christina I didn't mean, if you'd told me I . . .

—You ought to be Oscar, you ought to be sorry she . . .

—No it's, I'm all right Lily it's all right I, thanks, I mean I should have explained Oscar, he's Father's executor this law clerk is, Father named him his executor in his will so he's just carrying out Father's wishes and . . .

—But no funeral that's not, is that right Harry? Harry?

—What? Oh, the funeral yes matter of fact, I don't think it's binding, put it in a will it just expresses the wishes of the decedent he'd like a Viking funeral, put to sea in a flaming ship or sent up in a rocket or nothing at all but his wishes end with him, not like bequeathing a house or a diamond bracelet doesn't bind the survivors to anything but their own sentimental whatever they decide, no funeral but they can send the remains up in a rocket whatever they . . .

—Yes well there! There Christina, we can do whatever we, Christina? We can still, if it's not too late we can still do it I'll call him, we can still . . .

—Oscar please, will you simply, simply sit down and try to relax? clearing her throat, blowing her nose in the handful of tissue —I'm sure it's too late. I'm sure he went right ahead and followed Father's instructions like he's followed them down there for thirty years.

—Yes but Harry just said, he should have asked us shouldn't he? He's a law clerk he should know that, he must know these wishes aren't binding on the survivors he's not even, he's just a clerk a law clerk he had no right doing that without asking us, we could, he's a law clerk he should know we could probably sue him if we . . .

—Oscar for the love of God! Will you stop talking about suing people? can't you see where it's already got you? Where's, Lily where are you going.

—I'm making you some tea.

—I think I want a drink, I . . .

—I said I'm making you some hot tea didn't I? and she was gone.

—Look at it this way Oscar. Talk about your Senator Bilk turning things into a tent show the old Judge was way ahead of you, exactly what he knew could happen that's probably why he put in that stipulation, have to give him credit don't you? Big state funeral you talked about you might even get a Justice from the High Court but you'd get Bilk and the rest of the political trash with the media in there exercising their First Amendment rights to turn it into a public spectacle with a few rocks and beer cans from their file tapes thrown in for entertainment value because that's what their business is, it's not news it's entertainment. That's just what we were talking about earlier isn't it? what your movie lawsuit's all about? what this whole country's really all about? tens of millions out there with their candy and beer cans and this inexhaustible appetite for being entertained? Anything they can get their hands on, talk about bread and circuses that's . . .

—All right Harry please, that's enough now please. That's enough.

—All right Christina but, Harry listen, naming this law clerk his executor he's not even part of the family, he drinks and . . .

—Name anybody he wanted to Oscar, anybody he'd trust to carry out the provisions of his will exactly as he wrote it, take it through probate and . . .

—He trusted him all right, Father trusted him but what about us, we don't even know him he drinks and . . .

—One place the law's absolutely clear, catch an executor pulling any fast ones he's in a hell of a lot of trouble and if anybody knows that your law clerk does.

—Well but, and do we have to pay him?

—Estate pays him, don't know the laws down there could be up to three percent unless he elects to waive it or . . .

—Oh Lily thank God here, just put the cup here, Oscar? will you just let all this rest for a while? It's a simple estate it's a perfectly simple will, we're the joint beneficiaries we always took that for granted didn't we? And I mean you of all people, the way you've felt about Father talking about him standing by you and all the rest of it shouldn't you be the very first one to respect his wishes? let him go like he wanted to instead of some Viking funeral and God knows what else?

—I didn't mean that Christina, a Viking funeral I just thought, he could have made me his executor couldn't he? if he trusted this law clerk down there with a drink in his hand more than he . . .

—Well my God you drink don't you? will you look at that bottle beside you that was full a few minutes ago?

—Yes all right but, but he could have named Harry couldn't he? Harry's a lawyer, that three percent to keep that three percent in the family couldn't he?

—No wait Christinia, look Oscar. You've got somebody down there who knows the courts, knows the State laws can get the will through probate with drinks in both hands, an estate as simple as this one a few legal papers he can clean the whole thing up without a lot of . . .

—Yes but how do you know, you both keep saying it's a simple estate how do you know it is, maybe there are things we don't even . . .

—Don't worry about it, I asked him to send up a copy of the will and . . .

—You mean you've talked to him?

—We've both talked to him Oscar. Harry called him first thing and I talked to him later, he's bringing some papers up here and Father's personal effects that's about all there is, now . . .

—But why didn't you tell me!

—They just told you didn't they? I mean honest you're going to drive everybody crazy like this Oscar, how she's been tiptoeing around all day trying not to upset you, you okay Christina? You want to go in and lay down before the movie?

—Oh my God, that!

—No wait it's almost time! Turn it on it's right after the news, I have to go to the bathroom turn it on! as he heaved up and away, leaving them to the vision of a lady in impeccable lingerie stirred by a gentle breeze over phantom breasts smiling serenely on an unruffled landscape of a country morning after a satisfactory bout with an overnight laxative, all of them ensconced in varied degrees of discomfort by the time he reappeared to recover the sanctuary of the sofa where he came down unsteadily aping
the writhings of the middleaging arthritic on the screen enduring languorous massage with a heat penetrating unguent and a Florida backdrop Kissing Pain Goodbye when suddenly the room shook with the sound of cannon fire, the screen with a tumult of plunging horses, flaring rockets and the Stars and Bars and men, men —look! as

The Blood in the Red White and Blue

unfurled before them, going up in flames for the stark parade of names sprung from briefs, dockets, decrees, each more hateful than the last till finally the smoke cleared, the music died and now the room echoed with the clop clop of a horse and carriage seen approaching up a drive adroop with Spanish moss from the pillared veranda of an antebellum mansion by an imposing liveried black —there he is! that's that, that Button that friend of Basie's, his brow arching disdainfully as a decrepit horse and buggy bearing an aging woman and a handsome intense young man standing to snap his whip imperiously came close for an exchange of unheard words to be pointed scornfully on their way, glimpsed from behind a curtain by a ravishingly beautiful young woman in negligee —there she is! he hissed after their retreat back down the drive, pulling up before a small farm house badly in need of repair as a musical mélange of sombre chords appropriated from the alcoholic ramblings of Stephen Foster seeped in to set the tone for a long montage of hammering, wood splitting and split rail fencing, the decrepit horse yielding the buggy's traces for the plough under a blistering sun rows of tobacco leaves, stands of com, rivulets of sweat connoting manlydom on white skin and servitude on the black knelt by lamplight at the old woman's knee tracing the Beatitudes of Matthew 5 with a black finger on the white page escorted by the pirated strains of a gospel hymn yet to be written and, nearer to hand from the sofa gasps of recognition and wheezes of impatience rising on the wings of the gamebird smashed by the burst of a shotgun to scurry frantically through the brown grasses fleeing for the crevice of a stone wall from what was happening, the clatter of hooves, the crash of underbrush, Hunting Musique! With Horns and with Hounds I waken the Day And hye to my Woodland walks away, tempestuously bosomed, flaming hair'd, where Mars destroys and I repair, Take me, take me, while you may, Venus comes not ev'ry Day, three million dollars worth of stardom buskin'd in finest calf, twilled thighs spread wide astride the pawing stallion looming over him he rais'd a mortal to the skies; She drew an angel down undoing the front of his overalls, Flush'd with a purple grace he shows his honest face mingling the sweating badges of his low estate with perspiration born
of highborn sport beading her open breasts. Now gives the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes provoking here a giggle, there a gasp of outrage at —this clumsy, vulgar, did you see it! That scene I wrote in all its classic simplicity turned into trash dragged through the mud in the most vulgar clumsy, the whole thing right from the start, my whole prologue they used the dialogue for their scenario right from the start, did you see it Harry?

BOOK: Frolic of His Own
2.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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