A Singular Man

by J. P. Donleavy

  "Come down, Smithy. Here. You light one. I'll light one. Put them here together."

  Smith lighting his candle. And lighting Miss Tom-son's. Pressing the white wax on the brass spike. Oriental carpet. Tapestries under the high window. Strange blue black glass on the sky. Miss Tomson's sedan chair of glistening hide. Where she sits listening and chewing. Two new flames. Goldminers naked holding hands in front of theirs. Ask Sally. Can we kneel. Clothingless. But all the people, her friends, a distant swell of voices.

  "We're going to be married in here. Sort of special ceremony after the church. O gee. I didn't want it to be like this. You like me, don't you."

  "I do."

  "Gosh, I know. I like you. Smithy it's your eyes. I don't know. I don't want to cut you out of my life. The part you were playing was swell."

  "And small."

  "Come on. It's important. But a guy, when you love him and you're his. Well like a rag doll. You get thrown in the corner when they're finished with you."

  "I wouldn't throw you in the corner."

  "Smithy, Jesus. That's what I'm thinking. O shit, that's what I'm thinking. Sorry about the language."

  "That's all right."

  "Just to avoid getting shunted by guys. I got a career. Wanted my freedom. I only got these looks for so long, I guess, to drive guys crazy. Aren't our flames nice there. Wish my body was big enough I could spread it around and you could have it too. Like could send it over to you when you needed it. You look sweet. Right now. Funny, you're always hanging around in my mind, in your crazy old clothes. With your quaint little problems. Glad you brought your mother with you."

  "That's cruel."

  "Who is she."

  "A very old friend."

  "She's pretty impressive, I'm only kidding about the age, she's pretty beautiful too. I'm jealous. Never seen you in evening clothes before. It's a revelation."

  "Why do you sigh like that."

  "I don't know Smithy. I throw guys over because they try to own me, I never threw you over. And gee, your invitation. There it is, resting here on the altar. It's great. Ha ha, I'm dying to get there."

  "You're shivering. Miss Tomson."

  "Yesh. Funniest thing. Keep thinking I'm carrying black lillies up the aisle."

  Miss Tomson raising one eye brow. One smiling eye in her head. The other so sad. Looking slowly down Smith's elegance. Stopping at his fly and smiling. Smith laying a modest hand across.

  "Miss Tomson, really."

  "Gee Smithy, it's right there. Wow, I better turn on some music."

  Tomson turning knobs. A control panel under a shelf of books. Faint drums and horns. She's so beautiful. Lights up the darkness of the room. Can I tell her. Save her. Say, Sally let me spill my blood. A bit. For you. So scared all those weeks you weren't there. That I was too small time. Too much of nothing and you were everything. With all the people you knew. My mangy little office. Horsehair sofa. A bath running rusty water. You lived so high up, it was a long way to reach you. Each time I phoned it rang in the distance. And I'd hear a ship's horn trumpeting in the river. Boop. Boop. I thought of the deep deep water and maybe you had gone away altogether. Then I got hard. Wished I was famous, wished I was the center of attraction with friends calling, going in and out of my life. And I said, and shouted, you were cheap and sham. Worth nothing, just a climbing bitch, sticking heels in faces. You are. Because you must. Do what you're doing. I'm married in all my chains. That in a big world, where we touched hands. Whispered. Told each other tiny sorrows. It's all there is. Can't ask for more. Because there is no more. Only a moment of feeling skin, your heart under your breasts, and screaming in your ear as you grabbed me by the simple arse. That was it.

  "Sally, I don't want to lose you."

  "O."

  "I don't."

  "Gee."

  "I don't want to lose you."

  "I know."

  "You won't let me lose you."

  "Smithy."

  "I want to tell you."

  "O.K."

  "That if I lose you I have nothing left."

  "You do."

  "I don't."

  "You do."

  "I could buy you."

  "Could you."

  "Yes."

  "Gee."

  "Can't give you a contract. But could give you laughs."

  "Smithy, ha ha, yesh, you give me a chuckle, true."

  "And it wouldn't be enough, would it."

  "You're the most surprising guy. You don't know how close I'm to saying, yesh it's enough. Maybe I could fit you in in the afternoons."

  'Would you."

  "I don't want to lose you Smithy. I don't. I can't two time. I just can't. I'm funny people. I don't love this guy. But if I'm honest I'm not really taking him for his money either. Gee. Hear that. Boat in the river. Funny time to blow such a sad tune. Left all my guests. I don't care. For a minute anyway. Don't ebb. Jesus don't ebb."

  "I will."

  "I grew the hair under my arms. Just for you, because I knew you liked it. Not much I guess to do, to show affection. It nearly ruined my career."

  "How did you know I liked that."

  "I'm not telling you."

  "You never told me there is a real AI Maygrain Diltor something."

  "Gee, didn't I say he was a real guy."

  "No."

  "O.I know him."

  "He sent me an invitation, Sally."

  "I know. Don't ask me, it's a laugh."

  Smith's head upon Tomson's soft bosom, ear against her breast, hard corner of a jewel. Her hand reaching in his hair. The beautiful danger of letting her nails near my eyes. As they touch, could claw. Lay the fingertips gently. Gently they lay.

  "I want you, Smithy to stay in my life. I do. We're like two little kids standing here."

  Swaying softly held together. Strains of a highland march. Buy her. Get what. But if you don't fight. If you don't go smashing in upon her heart and grab it in both hands, hold it tightly, make it squirm under the crushing fingers. Got to do that.

  "I'll buy you."

  "Smith what can you offer me. You' d give me money."

  "Miss Tomson we're two wretched folk."

  "You see Smithy, the price is so high. I want a father on tap for my kick. To play with them on the rug with trains. If you were giving me money. I mean, gee it would be miserable for you having to part with all the cash I would need. This is terrible talk. Between us. Because suddenly I'm not kidding. Maybe it's all because you haven't got brown eyes."

  "I have the lonely green variety."

  "O Smithy. Gee."

  "MissT."

  "Mr. S."

  "Can you hear that sound, Miss T."

  "No."

  "It's me. Tip toeing."

  "Where you going, you tip toeing."

  "Out of your life."

  "O no. Gee I sort of yelled didn't I."

  "You did."

  "We better go down."

  Tomson holding Smith's hand tightly. Stepping up the steps out this temple room. To put an arm around, squeeze you ever so gently. I know that when I tip toe and go. You wanted me to stay. And so, when I go, it won't be as cold. A warmth I can wear. Your fingernails leave. Last thing of all. My steel heart snaps shut. Never open again. Painful asking what are you doing tomorrow, Sally, where are you today. Tyrant tide. Comes up to cover us. And you're tall. Golden gypsy. Running way up into the sky. Laughing and dry.

  The sweet heart

  In the lilly

  All black

  Or white

  Like snow

  24

  THE square high vast room. Two A.M. More arrivals. Throats of pearl. Wrists of diamonds. Hearts of. Who knows. I'm throwing no pebbles. With vaults of bullion. And followed Miss Tomson down her spiral staircase back into the crowded voices. Hands reach out for Sally.

  Slip away now behind her back because I feel a stranger. To hide. From people together like this. They see me. My myth gets shaken and shattered. Lift a morsel from this
passing tray. Thank you. No spiders anywhere. My God Her Majesty is popular. No one coming to my little corner to ask me who I am. Who are you. I yam der yingle humperkink. Vas ist das. Nooding.

  Winter air in the door from the terrace. Blazing logs under the head high marble mantel. And a portrait of Sally. Holding Goliath on lead, top a windswept bluff. Milkweed and stormy bright spring flowers. Poor Merry Mansions just hasn't got what it takes. Too late to buy the top tip of a building. Rent some cheap space under the water tank.

  Smith near a doorway. Dark serving girl taking and hanging coats. Miss T. took mine. Never even asked where the sable went. Or come back to talk to me. Don't go down. And as I went into Merry tonight, with Her Majesty. Hugo. Came snapping to attention. Saluting Queen Evangiline. Bowing, kissing her hand. As I nearly fell through the glass door. To find. I had to draw her by the elbow away. Out of her animated foreign conversation. Unearthing Matilda, who thank God, thought Her Majesty worthy of an instant invitation to The Tabernacle Of The Dark Complexioned Redeemer. And I asked her point blank. What's this with Hugo. How I stumbled once drunk into Merry. Handing out commands. As one does when fried. In the eye of Hugo as I barked a few parade ground manoeuvres. I saw that burning fleck of obedience. The soldier's eye. Would follow me in revolution. Your Majesty, who is he. George, heavens. A former officer of my household cavalry. When I had a household, when I had a cavalry. I took a handful of the royal backside. To giggles. When she was a girl.

  Two black shoe toes appearing beneath Smith's downcast eyes. And standing astride apart, the champagne in my hand just between.

  "Who are you a friend of. Friend."

  "I beg your pardon."

  "You ever had a picture in the paper. Maybe a magazine. You're familiar."

  Face leaning in over Smith's sparkling glass. Temperature up one's rear always runs one degree higher. Short hair sticking up on a head out of a blue suit. Rises up on the toes. Down on heels. Legs spread. Rocking back and forth.

  "I like to observe when others are not aware. You appear to me a guy who doesn't let a party waste time.

  By the way, it's Ralph."

  "I see."

  "You."

  "Smith's the name."

  "Hey not George."

  "No perhaps not."

  "Hey, it's George. Sure. Glad I jumped to a conclusion. I mean here, have a canap6. This is indicative. You stand in one spot and don't move. That's what I would have thought you would have done. You want to know by what route I was led here."

  'What route."

  "There she is. I thought she's got class. Right. Right. The mature woman. Of beauty. Hey I witness no rings on your fingers."

  "No."

  "Strange. So O.K. I go up to this personage. Sure. Let's admit. It figures a personage. Sally doesn't kid around. As who can afford to. So I says, same approach, note, who are you a friend of. Then in the most beautiful voice, like yours maybe, she says. I'm sweet. Hey, I'm telling you. Said I was sweet. I mean she could have said push off, crumb. I mean, right. Right."

  "Yes."

  "Well. I'm smiling. Naturally. I'm thinking wow. This dame. Maybe she's forty but you don't care, eighty, who cares. Standing right there she's thirty one. In any he man's language. Course I told you, my name's Ralph."

  "Yes."

  "Then she just waves her hand. See. Like this. Here's this whole room. But the way she did it, that hand waves right to you. She said, there's my friend. Man, I said, here are real beautiful people. Quality people. Well for Christ's sake, you're George Smith. See. How could I imagine. I mean, just what I would imagine. Well well. Here. Pour you a drink"

  "Thanks."

  "I'm out of words. For a second. And you just staring down at the floor. Come on. Who did you just sell up the river. Let's be frank. I mean I don't mind telling a guy like you the lousy things I did. You know Sally gave me a shot one night, for just what I said to you. Her brother's a friend of mine. It's amazing."

  "What's amazing."

  "You would hit a cripple into the tracks. So who knows two sides to every story. Some of the biggest operators in this town are here. You wonder how they make their money. I mean, that's just a reflection in passing. See the hairy guy, that's Al. He's a no fooling guy. You ever heard of Jiffy. Got a lot of interests, maybe even gravel pits. Another no fooling guy. I mean now, Sally could have got me up to his place. I tell you. Like a real castle. His wife is bald. O you knew that."

  "No."

  "He's insane about Sally. O you knew that too."

  "No."

  "He shot her dog."

  "I know that."

  "Hey prize. You knew that. A canap6. Caviar. You don't mind I call you George. I mean someone with your accent might not like it, first names just like that. You see I know."

  "George is all right."

  "O.K. George, here's the caviar. You know this is a great moment in my life to meet you. No kidding. And boy I'm impressed, everybody throws dough around to make themselves look good living. So what refreshment, a guy. Who wants to look good dead. Right."

  "Perhaps."

  "I've seen it. Your mortuary. Went up there night after I read the mention. It's swell. Now what do you do."

  "What do you mean."

  "Why you send me an invitation to the bust out."

  "I beg your pardon."

  "Hey. The memorial opening. Like decorations won't be worn. Some touch that is. Decorations. So I don't have any."

  "Pity."

  "Shake. I feel you're a real friend of Sally's. She hates my guts. Thinks I ruined her brother's career. I sweated my ass for him. I nearly had to come in the service entrance tonight, that girl's ruthless. I mean I don't mean she's not nice. She's just God damn ruthless. Do you know, in the garage of this building, three hand made cars, the kind you get a flat and have to send it back to the factory. Hey, just off the record. You packing anything."

  "I beg your pardon."

  "A rod. You know. Bang bang. Rumours around, you travel under armour. Just thought I saw a bulge under the jacket. I mean, none of my business."

  "Perhaps not."

  "A sharp eye. You know, I really admire you. It's engraved ivory. The handle. You shouldn't lean over like that. Doesn't it make you sad."

  "What."

  "Guys blasting. When they could argue insults. So what's words, if maybe you said the wrong thing the first time. I mean look at me. I'm nervous now, you got me nervous. I said things. Look forget what I said. You're a swell guy. I mean. Just wish I didn't see the gun. That's all."

  "You didn't see it."

  "You're right. So right. I'm blind."

  "What's your earning power."

  "Mr. Smith I'm glad you asked me that question. Really, I am. It's just I don't want to damage our friendship by mentioning it with a figure right now. I could give you my job history."

  "Shoot."

  "Don't say that word. But listen. You're ruthless."

  "I yam der yingle humperdink."

  "What's that lingo. Why don't you talk. Could we do a deal I mean you could have the upper hand."

  "No."

  "You think I'm the human condition at its lowest."

  "Yes."

  "Can I pick up the telephone and call you sometime."

  "No."

  Sally Tomson across the room. Lifting her chin. A flat final line of her lips as she stepped from group to group. Four cars below. Handmade. Nudge me under the tennis balls, Sally. Kiss your flowering parts. World's so big. All in one room. High above the streets over a staggering stack of humanity sound asleep.

  Ralph with his hair plastered down. Cruising elsewhere. Smith letting the great thoughts of the century float by. And Miss Martin shoots them down with her rifle. To let strange horrors come to mind. Standing here. Sally's brother shouting he screwed my sister. I'd take a bow. In front of all these spongy hearts. Time to leave. Step down into the rapid transit system forever. Get Herbert's coat. Collect Her Majesty.

  "Smithy, you're no
t leaving."

  "Yes."

  Miss Tomson standing in front of Smith. Taking his elbow. Leading him backwards. Across the foyer. Staring in his eyes. As if a slap had landed on her face and she slumped, hanging to my lapels, looking up. Blue. Like the flag raised to the mainmast. Five minutes before sailing. As we float into a bedroom. All pink, couched and satiny. Deep silled window. Stars out there in the long night. Cold in heaven. And motor birds crossing the sky with a pencil ray of light pointing towards Bonniface cooped up with his trusty bottle in the mop closet. Alone with his secrets.

  Behind a wall of sliding doors. Sally Tomson's clothes. Glass case of little gleaming square boxes just like the automat and in each, a pair of shoes, gleaming, precious, slippers, gold and silver. A table, two lotions, three waters, four perfumes. Fewer than I thought. Her face when it lay cupped in my hands. Her mouth open over her teeth in the tiniest most exquisite of smiles.

  "Hey what is this Smithy you're going."

  "Yes."

  "O."

  "It was marvellous."

  "That isn't a word you'd ever use Smithy if you meant it."

  "I do. I enjoyed myself."

  "Stay."

  "It's good to look at you, Sally. I like you."

  "Smithy you're easily pleased by beautiful things. And we never even scratched each other like monkeys."

  "When can I see you again."

  "Come on, Smithy. You talk like you're never going to see me again."

  "Can I see you again."

  "Shit.Yesh."

  "What's the matter."

  "I don't know. But. Yesh. You can see me."

  Miss Tomson, slender satin straps, holding lightly the fabric over her bosom. Soft swelling lines, the gentle nipples. Smiling and doubling up her fist, leaning back with a wink and slow motion and clipping Smith lightly on the jaw as he rolled with the punch.

  "Nice moving, Smithy."

  "Guess I'll get my coat."

  "You could have been a fighter."

  "I've taken instead to foil, epee, saber."

  "There's so much I want to say, Smithy."

  "Say it."

  "There really is but no time."