A Fairy Tale of New York (24 page)

24

On this murderous steamy hot afternoon. Christian entering the bright cool air of the pure white Think Boom of the Mott empire. Mr Quell, head of Thinking, stopping mid aisle in his shirt sleeves. Hips wider than his shoulders. Ears big as hands. Tiny red mustache hiding his upper lip. Long fading pink hair combed in a marcel wave over his bald head.

Where the hell have you been. You heard me. What's the matter. Have you got laryngitis."

JUST SLACK VOCAL COBDS.

"What are you trying once more, to be funny Christian. Well this really is something, isn't it. Now you can't speak. Writing on pieces of paper. When we couldn't get you to write on paper when you could speak. Go on. Go and see Mr How. I don't think I'm all that whole heck of a lot in need of your services at the moment."

Tighten the teeth a little. Awful how one wants to take him and flick his tie up in his face. Or dump on it a whole heck of a lot of shit. An overall brown would help with his vulgar choice of colors. Wants me to enter his own little power struggle. To improve his department. And fill Mott's orbit with another triumph of thought.

How has a nice new secretary. I've not seen before. My deep serious silence might make her think I'm an acting deputy assistant department head. Howdy chickadee. Why don't you accompany this big spender to a nightclub. Watch me feel absolutely at home among the celebrities. Baby, me no cog. Come roll with me. Me big wheel.

"Mr Christian, Mr How will see you now."

THANK YOU.

"You're welcome but gee I'm sorry I didn't know you were deaf and dumb."

JUST DUMB NOT DEAF.

"Ogee."

Christian moving along through these typing sounds and ringing telephones. The massive ass flattening continues. Everyone looking so god damn composed. Or else up at the clock. Stand stagestaggered now in front of Howard How's door. Down the street I walked into a big building. Eight at the bottom of Broadway. Stood at the counter in the massive shady room. Said in my most nervous muttering whisper. How much is it out of here and back across the Atlantic on the cheapest boat.

''Mr Christian please go in, Mr How will see you now.''

Howard How, his hands flat out on his desk. Same sandy face.Parts his hair one third and two thirds. Lot of son of a bitches try to be smart aleck with two fifths and three fifths,

"Sit down Cornelius. Boy what a busy day. First free second I've had. And it has to be another problem with you. Your file here, Cornelius. Doesn't need more than a look. All I got to say, gee it really is too bad. Late. Miss work. Can't get in touch with you. Today you come to work in the middle of the afternoon. Mr Quell says you're writing notes on pieces of paper. What the hell's happened that you can't speak."

I THINK I MAY BE HAVING A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN.

"You know, Cornelius, I'm going to be candid, you were really one guy, out of the hundreds and hundreds I see, that I would have sworn would go places. Somehow it just breaks my heart. Isn't the renumeration enough. That's o k you don't have to write an answer. But look, this report. When you weren't looking at them tearing the building down, or were they building it. Gee, you're even getting me confused. Anyway if it wasn't sending dirty remarks by semaphore to the guys on the building over there, you were sneaking looks at Mr Quell's Wall Street Journal. Are you having a shot at the market or something Cornelius. If you're here at all, you're heading for the water cooler or just coming back. And if it's not that you're hanging over the desk of someone who's working, and making undermining remarks. What's the matter, Cornelius don't you like us here at Mott. O k, if the answer's not too long, write it down.''

IT SEEMS THAT WHAT I DO JUST ISN'T MAKING ANY IMPRESSION ON THE WORLD. I HAVE A PEELING OP WORTHLESSNESS.

"Hey now Cornelius. That's no way to feel. Sure you're worth something. You know, I've told my wife about you. Even said she wanted to meet you. Meet our kids. But please just from our side look at it. I mean if it's any consolation, your fourteen visits to the rest room in one day, may not have made an impression on the world but it sure made one on us. O k, if you have an answer write it down."

I HAVE A NERVOUS KIDNEY CONDITION.

"Sorry to read this Cornelius. We have a whole range of company medical services. Why not get your self a check up.''

I'VE BEEN TO THE DOCTOR.

"Did he tell you it was something serious.''

HE TOLD ME THE ONLY THING I HAD GOING FOR ME WAS NO ONE COULD CALL ME A COCKSUCKER. I APOLOGISE FOR THE LANGUAGE.

"O k, I'm adult Cornelius. But let's not try to be too comical, what the hell kind of doctor you going to. Gee it's only that some day you could be up there with the celebrities.''

MY DOCTOR SAYS EVERY CELEBRITY IN THIS TOWN IS A JACKASS.

"I won't dispute your doctor's medical advice, Cornelius, but some of those celebrities are important people. But who knows, maybe being a celebrity is a medical problem. Anyway my problem is, Cornelius, I got to use a disheartening word. By the rule book I'm supposed to fire you. You've given me a moral and ethical nightmare. You might say these have been heart rending days. I know there isn't anything evil and filthy in your background, Christian. But we don't even have one reference, outside the funeral parlor we can fall back on. Maybe you're just having a bad month. If yon need it, why don't yon reach out for help. It could rid yon of your feeling of worthlessness. I mean, what the hell, we're all worthless. Come down to it. I mean couldn't some guy walk right into my job and where would I be."

MR MOTT ISN'T WORTHLESS.

"No he's not. I'll grant yon that. He could be worth a hundred million."

THAT'S WHY HE CAN WALK INTO A ROOM AND SAY WHAT'S ON HIS MIND.

"Yeah, I'm reading yon, it's a good point. I guess for guys like meit's what I 'm carrying in life insurance that counts.''

DON'T MENTION INSURANCE.

"Why not."

JUST LEFT A PLACE WHERE A GUY GOT SHOT FOR IT.

"Is that right. Well maybe it's amazing the subjects that can get you into hot water these days. But now just let me ask you just one question Cornelius, I don't want you to take it in the wrong way, just write yes or no. Didn't you have a father to look up to and to respect.''

NO.

"Sorry to hear that."

HE WAS A GOD DAMN BUM.

"Holy gee Cornelius, you can't say that about your own father."

HE WAS A SHAM, PHONY AND BRAGGART.

"Hey come on. It really hurts me to hear, I mean read you on this. Can a son really grow up and say that about his own father."

YES.

"Those are strong words Cornelius, I don't mind telling yon. But that shouldn't hold you back from your goal in life. You know I even thought I'd like for my little boy Billie to grow up like you, Cornelius. Maybe that's what you need, wife and kids, to make a go of it. Make you feel you had something to win for. A son. That you've got to make it. For him. When your boy and girl's future means more to you than anything else in the world. But why do you do it. Hang over the other guy's desks making these cranky, crippling statements. There are pages of them written down here in the complaints. I don't know, I've got the whole personnel of this company to worry about and I find myself getting up in the morning enraged at some of the things you've been doing. And I got to level with you, Cornelius. Your kind of attitude is just not going to help us knock hell out of the competition in this industry. I mean to put it frankly you are sabotaging us. Same thing as a bomb or something blowing the hell out of us. I mean if you came out there to Forest Hills and saw what I've got. Wife, three swell kids. Moving along with a few little improvements all the time. Built a little cantilevered back porch out on the back of the house with my own two bare hands. Rigged up an extra shower down in the basement. Put up new storm windows. Cut down my fuel bill a whole fourteen percent. These are the real things Cornelius. Like the four new snow tires I got stacked up in my garage, ready for winter. You know, I look forward to using those tires. Look at them there in the garage, thinking how I'm going to cruise right over the snow and ice after Thanksgiving. A swell thought on a hot summer's day. I've got growing my own herb garden. Did you know that. Back there on the good earth after a hard day at the office, a great feeling. Sorry keep forgetting you can't talk.''

IS IT ALL LOVE AND BEAUTY OUT THERE.

"Why no Cornelius it's not. I'll be frank. I got this guy next door complaining I'm screwing up the air, sending wop smells from my garlic patch over into his back play area. You got to expect this kind of little ethnic trouble from time to time. I mean, believe it or not, the guy's a real wop himself."

THEN NOT EVERYTHING IS SWELL OUT THERE.

"No Cornelius, not everything is swell, I would be less than candid to say it was. But there are good guy neighbors too. The fellow across the street. Everything is going swell with him. He just made vice president in charge of sales for a big east coast pharmaceutical operation. Got himself a three car garage. His wife is a kind of sex beauty queen. She's got some shape. He's got a lot going for him. And one thing, we're absolutely agreed on. He's never going to sell out to an undesirable. And I'm not. We shook hands on it.''

WHAT ABOUT THE GUY COMPLAINS ABOUT YOUR GARLIC.

"That's a valid question Cornelius. I'm glad you asked it. Well, I don't know. He might do that kind of thing, maybe, and sell to an undesirable. I don't know he must have something. He's been burglarized four times in three months. My wife's seen these guys pulling out of their garage with a big truck. We've only been burglarized once. But you know, there's something funny about him. Hardly ever see the wife and he keeps to himself. Never see any friends coming or going. Plenty of times I struck up a conversation. But he doesn't want to talk. I mean even in your own garden, some people will hold garlic against you. That's o k by me. The guy's maybe worried about his taxes or something."

HE MIGHT HAVE AN ILLICIT STILL IN HIS HOUSE.

"Ha ha, hey that's really a good one Cornelius. You see, that imagination of yours. If we could harness it. Don't you love your country. Want to do something for it."

I THINK THE NIGGERS SHOULD TAKE IT OVER.

"Now what kind of a controversial remark is that Cornelius."

THEY'VE GOT BETTER MANNERS.

"Holy cow, ethnically Cornelius you're way off. What the hell kind of opinion is that.''

THEY'RE A PASTORAL PEOPLE.

"Ok, maybe I'll grant you that. I mean that's interesting. But supposing the bloodbath comes. When the pendulum of property values is going to sock some of us for a loop. You know the god damn riots that go on already. I mean Forest Hills could go black overnight. I mean pardon me Cornelius, but what the hell are god damn manners in the middle of the bloodbath. I mean I can't go out on my back cantilevered porch after dark without wondering if some black son of a bitch is going to jump me. Right up out of my own god damn herb garden. I mean there's a guy now, about once a month shoots some resident dead. I mean he could just take your wallet, but no, he kills you right afterwards. You call that manners.''

CROOKS HAVE TO BE CAREFUL TOO.

"Well it's four o'clock. And my dander's up. I mean what the hell do you know about property values Cornelius. Although we got the tennis club out there, you still lie awake in the bed at night, next to your loved one, wondering if the guy across the street's going to sell to an undesirable. And you wake up the next morning, grabbing the binoculars to see if some dark faces have moved in and your life's investment is shot to hell. Boy I'll tell you, a man's life is only worth what his next door neighbor might suddenly make it. I mean if you forget a minute about the god damn vandalism. With kids breaking the windows, stealing your car, or what's worse the battery. And your trying to start it for two hours. Hey come on, come out and see me, what do you say. You'll love my wife, Jean. I mean she's dying to meet you."

AM I FIRED.

"Now why do you have to bring up that painful subject Cornelius. I'm using my own judgement about that. Mr Mott always wants a full reservoir of brains to give a constant supply of clear thinking. Just like that reservoir you talked about when you first came in here.''

I GUESS WHEN MOTT WANTS A DEEP THOUGHT HE TURNS ON THE TAP.

"Right."

I POLLUTE THE THOUGHT SUPPLY.

"Right. No. Not right. No. You just get leaves and "debris in it. But come on, don't you know you're among a scrupulously selected collection of the best young minds in the country. And you know, you inherited those brains. That's why Cornelius I find it hard to take what you said about your father. I don't want my kid to be mystified by his father. I would die, Cornelius, rather than do anything to embarrass my boy. They could put me on the rack and torture me, I wouldn't care. I'm that kid's hero. I want him to look me straight in the eye. And not think his dad is making a cheap buck somewhere in a dirty deal. When I say something I want my little Billie to feel it's the god's honest truth being spoken. If I say it's pouring rain in Death Valley every day of the week, I want Billie to say, my dad said that, and my dad speaks the truth. Will you come out, and see me Cornelius, I mean I don't live in a palace but I just know it would make you see that this country isn't just a whole great lot of runaway fear and terror. That the rewards are there.''

I'LL COME.

"Gee that's swell. And you know, maybe I'd like to ask you just one question. I mean gee, what's it like to be standing over a bunch of dead bodies all the time, like you used to do. Did it teach you anything. I mean jesus christ that's what's going to happen to us."

IT TAUGHT ME DEATH IS BETTER THAN DYING.

Better than

Hapless

Better than

Glee

The cat's

Meow

In this midnight

Sea

25

Fanny Sourpuss in the middle of the night. Boiling over in bed as I came in. Opening one eye and then the other. Squinting in the light. Let myself in with the key she gave me. The night duty doorman kept me half an hour showing me the latest judo tricks he learned at class and said let's see you try and throw me now Mr Peabody.

I got him on the floor in the grapevine. Nearly woke the building up with his Pakistani screams. We both stood up to bow to two residents returning from a ball. They were tipsy. Just as I finally got, standing at five bars in Greenwich village. Having two beers in each. Heard a lot of jackasses that Doctor Pedro spoke about. Hopelessly remote celebrities. Then took a walk all the way uptown on Fifth to cut over to the delicatessen. From which I nearly never got delivered. As I step through this brown hot darkness towards the voice of Fanny.

"It's you. What time is it."

"Two."

"Where you been."

"Standing at a bar."

"Are you still muttering like that. They must have thought you were nuts. Throw me my cigarettes. You weren't trying to screw any cunts."

"No."

"Just had a big dream you were. And some god damn pussy was putting her leg over your prick and it was about a foot wide. She could have raced it at Hialeah. Well at least you came back. God it's hot. Son of a bitch Kelly the doorman was screwing around with the air conditioning this afternoon. Said it was an immorality. That if god wanted us hot we should be hot. Then that stupid Arab or something, who keeps making eyes at me, busted the whole thing for good. And everybody in the building is telling me to get it fixed as if it's all my fault. Come to bed. You hungry."

"No."

"Hey tell me something. Did you love your wife. I sometimes think you're such a cold hearted fish. And you just threw her in the grave. That you don't have feelings for anything."

"I've got feelings."

"Come to bed."

Lie stony and stiff next to Fanny Sourpuss. Wait till she goes to sleep so that I can ponder more. Because tonight I went to the Sixth Avenue Delicatessen. For a taste of Doctor Pedro's happiness. After my walk. Tall blond lady came in and sat across from me. In a loose green dress with greener buttons down the front. She put ketchup on her french fries. And held her pinky way out when digging with her fork. Smiled when I pushed the sugar her way for her coffee. She said it's a hot night. I said yes. And saw her putting her hands below the table edge where she pulled back and forth on a wedding ring. She bit her lip before she spoke.

"Do you come here often.''

''Well my doctor told me to come.''

"Your doctor."

"Yes he said it was a good place to come and look at the people."

"Well it sure is a place you can see people, but what kind of people."

Her hair swept up on top of her head and her cheeks a little puffy and her lower lip hung down. Her teeth looked newer than the rest of her. Said she was single and lived just a few buildings away. She lifted one eyebrow extremely high above the other when she asked a question.

"What do you do if you don't mind me enquiring.''

Everytime she leans forward. See the dark moist line of cleavage between her two big breasts. Borrow, if he's not using it this late at night, Mr Quell's title for a while.

"I'm department head of publicity for an industrial corporation."

"Is that right."

"Well yes it is. I mean I'm considering other proposals at the moment. At my age it's all right to be department head but I wouldn't want that to get chronic.''

"Ha ha, no, you wouldn't want that. You could be a magazine model or an actor or something like that.''

"Well I am considering seriously other proposals and job opportunities."

''You got a kind of funny way of speaking.''

"It's my jaw, hurt playing polo.''

''Gee do you play polo that game on horses.''

"Down in Virginia. On the weekends.''

"That's some game. Expensive.''

"O it costs a little. Like the best things in life. What do you do."

"I'm I guess a kind of person you might think got caught in a rut. If you wanted to be really funny you could call it a career. I'm a legal secretary. I always lived with my mother till she died last year. I just take what comes. Is that cheese cake good.''

"Yes delicious."

"Well I guess I'll have some. You sound a little like you were English or something.''

"Some of us down in Virginia, round where the better estates are, speak like this.''

Sipping a last cup of coffee. I had another. And she had another. And told me about her mother, a night nurse with a lot of rich families along Park Avenue. And said as her face got a little flushed. You want to come up and see some pictures of her, my grandfather was a horse trainer, before we got poor. And I've got lots of pictures.

Up in the elevator. She kept bending her door key between her thumbs. Walked down a narrow public green corridor. Through her brown apartment door, and past a tiny kitchen. Her little living room. Glass cocktail table. A white cat in the corner taking a shit in kitty litter. Stack of books. She said please sit down, Mr Peabody or do you mind if I call you Jason. I belong to a book club, Jason. That's all I really do. Is read. Can I get you something to drink.

Sound of a container of milk plopping twice to the floor in the kitchen. Christian sitting with a glass of milk. Looking across at this woman standing at a bookcase lined with books of knowledge. Down in the delicatessen got a hard on under the table watching her take bites out of her cheese cake. Doctor Pedro must have meant for me to chase my opportunity. Given by this by no means beautiful creature. I said no thanks to viewing her mother's pictures. When suddenly she said please, would you do me a big favour. And take me home. Just so that I have some company. Just to my door. Because only three days ago a girl was murdered in the next building. And you look honest. And this late and hot at night I don't like going back to my apartment alone.

"Thank you madam. I am very grateful you don't think I'm a sexual maniac."

"Ha ha, gee you can be funny."

And then she got her pictures. Of her mother. As a little girl on the stone porch of an ivied entrance. And an older one, smiling in white by a straw hatted patient in a wheel chair. Said Kennebunkport, Maine. How does one stand up with all these photographs laid out on your lap. Said her name was Marigold, of the Aster family, of flowers. Two little pottery lamps glowing near the window. Four rectal lonely looking oil paintings on the walls. We sat there till right near midnight and cats meowing and screaming down in the alleys and long after I knew I would get my ass broken by Fanny. Who would be shouting where the hell were you.

"I think I better be going."

''O no, please, don't go.''

"I must, my mother is waiting for me.'

"I thought you said you were from Virginia.''

"Well my mother is up here for a week's shopping.f'

"Please stay. Jason, you're the first person I've had here visiting me in about three months. It's kind of a wonderful thing for me. I used to belong to a bowling club. Till it ended up being all women. Do you bowl.''

"No, not yet. But my bloody mother might sock me one with a bowling ball."

"Ha ha, but at your age, being so attached to your mother like this. My mother I think ruined my life.''

"Well christ sometimes I want to break away, but she's the sweetest dearest most wonderful woman I 've ever known.''

"Well I guess she didn't have to struggle. Guess you've been sheltered all your life. I'd like to meet your mother sometime."

"Well I better now be going.''

Marigold leaning over close to Christian, pushing him backwards on the couch, her mouth opening. Darting her tongue in between my tightening lips. Feel her heart pounding and she's landing kisses all over my face. When I hardly know the woman. Sweat pouring off her. Breasts sumptuously large and smothering. As one struggles to get the unusually strong arms from around one. Without giving offense to this entwining vine. As she squeezes one belch after another of pastrami out of me.

"Please don't go. I've got a few things going for me, I really have. I don't know how it will make any difference but I hold a speed typing championship. The scroll's right there up on the wall. Don't laugh at me. I'm desperate. And I'm so lonely. And I don't want you to go. Please. I 'll give you fifty dollars.''

"I'm sorry."

''Please, one hundred.''

"Madam, you mustn't say these things.''

"Isn't it enough, you want more, Jason. I'll give you some more. Anything you want. I can give you a good time. I'm good at screwing. I really am. And if you get up and go I'll die. I'll throw myself out the window.''

"Don't do that."

"I will. Jason, I will."

"I could be the murderer killed the girl."

"Jesus I don't care. Just don't leave me. I'd rather to anyway get killed if you 're going.''

"Can't we talk about this sensibly. The streets full of men looking for women.''

"But I want you. I don't want another one of them hairy old grease balls. Why can't I have something handsome for a change. You've got such beautiful hands. I watched them while you were eating. And you're young. I'll undress you. I'll do it all."

"I've got to go."

"I 've got more money.''

"Madam I'd never dream of taking your money, unless, ha ha, it was really a lot."

"Marigold's my name. And I 'm not kidding.''

"Look I have a doctor, he says there's a cure, just scrub your floor and you 'll be all right.''

"I want a fuck. I can't stand the loneliness. It's been a whole .year. Since last summer in Paris. Please. Please. I'm telling you. He was just a porter on the train. I had him for three nights. He was good looking even though he stunk of garlic and stole all my luggage and money and everything. But I'd give it to him all again. Can't you understand how desperate a girl can get. What's wrong, here, let me show you. I'm not that bad. My tits are good. I 'll undress. I 'll show you.''

''Please don't, no please.''

"Yes yes, then you 'll see.''

"Madam I 'm going to leave no matter what you do.''

"It'll change your mind, I know it will. Now, There. Here, look. Look at them.''

''Yes I am. They 're very fine.''

"Feel one, go ahead, they're firm. I never had any children and they're really firm. Give me your hand. Now doesn't that feel firm."

"Yes. It's very fine and firm and madam I'm a compassionate person. But somehow I think we're getting into an awful misunderstanding here.''

''Don't I even give you an erection, don't you have one."

''Well I 'm so concerned at this moment that I don't know."

"I'll feel for you."

"No please, it's ok."

"Just let me show you my thighs then. I got really good thighs. No fat or anything. All solid.''

"I wish you wouldn't madam, I can see that you're wonderfully built."

"You don't know how damned miserable it can be. All right."

"Madam please, don't cry, everything's going to be all right.

My mother gave me this problem.''

"O I don't care, don't say anything. I don't want a whole bunch of excuses. I can really make love. And I don't know maybe you're just a pervert.''

"Yes, I am a little bit of one. But it's really that I don't want my head broken when I go home.''

"You're a fairy."

"Well not completely.''

"I've made a god damn fool of myself. You knew damn well what I was after when I asked you to come up here.''

"I did not. I accompanied you because you asked me. As any southern gentleman would do, when asked by a lady for protection. I have codes. I would never take money.''

"Don't be so high hat about money. You're just a nobody exactly like me. Department head, my ass. I don't care if someone kills me. Just so long as I can kiss him while he does it. That's just the way I feel. When that murderer comes, black, hairy or greasy. I'll be kissing him while he's killing me. Because he'll be doing me a god damn favour. So get out you, get out. And cut out calling me that crazy old madam stuff. And leave me alone."

Marigold seated on her pea green couch. Little white lace covers on the arms. A large fold of her belly bulging over the waist band of her tight stretched panty. Clumps of her hair studded with bobby pins hanging over her neck. Tears down her face. Clutching her hands under her breasts. Two lamps ridged with soot stain. Sad altar of light either side of the window at the end of this tiny room. Air conditioner humming. Avoid leaving a pickle and coleslaw fart to foul up her life further. Least I can do. While the naked shoulders of this citizen of this city tremble. With her two unhandled sacks of flesh hanging forward over her wrists. Strange bereft beauty. Now the tears running down to her nipples. Pause and drop off. Little suicides. She waits for the sacred sacrifice of murder. Makes the city live. Takes the conceit of life away. Dogs lick up your blood. Go back and touch and comfort her. Say, please don't worry. In July in a window in the Bronx they write every year Merry Christmas. Bewilder the elevated train travellers a little more. And if you're travelling that way, it says Dead End above the hospital ambulance entrance at Bellevue. Be a gentleman your whole life. To all women. When prick hungry, feed them. When out of style, dress them. When they say why don't you give me a surprise. Sock her cold for a change. Wake her up on the lawn where she can see her picket fence. While you clip the grass around her pedestal. Getting it ready for when she's a statue. Worshipped as she waits no longer in tears.

After

Her murderer

Has

Come