While Foster went into the library to welcome his first book, Vida and I continued lying there on the bed taking little nips from the bottle of whisky he had graciously left behind. After a while Vida and I were so relaxed that we both could have been rented out as fields of daisies.
Suddenly, we had lost track of time, Foster came slamming into the room. He was very angry in his overweight T-shirt sweating kind of way.
‘I think we’d better close this nuthouse while you’re south,’ he said, demanding whisky with his right hand. ‘Come to think of it, we should close this God-damn place forever. Everybody go home. Pick up their marbles. That is, if they have any left.’
Foster gobbled down a big turkey slug of whisky. He grimaced and shook when it hit his stomach. ‘That’s better,’ he said, wiping his hand across his mouth.
‘What happened? Vida said. ‘It looks like your library vaccination didn’t take.’
‘You’re telling me. More whisky!’ Foster said, addressing the bottle as if it were a healing hand of balm.
‘I hope you didn’t frighten them,’ I said. ‘That’s not the purpose of this library. It’s a service, not a demand that we perform here.’
‘Frighten them? Are you kidding, kid? It was the other God-damn way around. Hell, I usually get along with people.’
‘What happened?’ Vida repeated.
‘Well, I went out there and it wasn’t exactly who I expected would be there. I mean, they were standing outside and—’
‘Who was it?’ Vida said.
‘A woman?’ I said, a little mercilessly.
‘It’s not important} Foster said. ‘Let me continue, damn it! Yes, there was a woman out there and I use the word woman with serious reservation. She was ringing the bell and she had a book under her arm, so I opened the door. That was a mistake.’
‘What did she look like?’ I said.
‘It’s not important,’ Foster said.
‘Come on,’ Vida said. ‘Tell us.’
Ignoring us, Foster continued telling the story in his own manner. ‘When I opened the door she opened her mouth at the same time. “Who are you?” she demanded to know in a voice just like a car wreck. What the hell!
‘ “I’m Foster,” I said.
‘ “You don’t look like any Foster I’ve ever seen,” she said. “I think you’re somebody else because you’re no Foster.”
‘ “That’s my name,” I said. “I’ve always been Foster.”
‘ “Haa! but enough of you. Where’s my mother?” she demanded.
‘ “What do you mean, your mother? You’re too old to have a mother,” I said. I was tired of humouring the bag.
‘ “What do you want done with that book?” I said.
‘ “That’s none of your God-damn business, you impostor Foster. Where’s she at?”
‘ “Good night,” I said.
‘ “What do you mean, good night? I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here until you tell me about my mother.”
‘ “I don’t know where your mother is and frankly, to quote Clark Gable in Gone with the Wind, ‘I don’t give a damn’.”
‘ “Call my mother Clark Gable!” she said, and then she tried to slap me. Well, that was quite enough out of her, so I grabbed her hand in mid-flight and spun her around and gave her a big shove out the door. She went flying out that door like a garbage can on the wing.
‘ “Let my mother go free!” she yelled. “My mother! My Mother!”
‘I started to close the door. It was getting kind of dreamlike about this time. I didn’t know whether to wake up or slug the bitch.
‘She made a threatening motion towards the glass, so I went outside and escorted her down the stairs. We had a little struggle along the way, but I laid a little muscle on her arm and she cooled it and at the same time I gentlemanly offered to break her chicken neck if she didn’t take out down the street as fast as her clothes-hanger legs would take her.
‘The last I saw of her she was yelling, “It isn’t right that I should end up like this, doing these crazy things that I do, feeling the way I do, saying these things,” and she was tearing pages out of the book and throwing them over her head like a bride at a wedding reception.’
‘Like a bride at a wedding?’ Vida said.
‘The flowers,’ Foster said.
‘Oh, I didn’t understand,’ she said.
‘I don’t understand either,’ Foster said. ‘I went down and picked up some of the pages to see what kind of book they came from, but the pages didn’t have any writing on them. They were blank like snow.’
‘That’s how it goes here sometimes,’ I said. ‘We get some disturbed authors, but most of the time it’s quiet. All you have to do is be patient with them and write down the author of the book, its title and a little description in the Library Contents Ledger, and let them put the book any place they want in the library.’
‘That’s easy enough with this one,’ Foster said.
I started to say something—
‘The description,’ Foster said.
I started to say something—
‘Blank like snow,’ Foster said.
The Van
‘I’ll sleep in my van,’ Foster said.
‘No, there’s room in here for you,’ I said.
‘Please stay,’ Vida said.
‘No, no,’ Foster said. ‘I’m more comfortable in my van. I always sleep there. I got a little mattress and a sleeping bag it makes me cosy as a bug in a rug.
‘No, it’s already settled. It’s the van for old Foster. You kids get a good night’s sleep because you have to leave early on the plane. I’ll take you down to the airfield.’
‘No, you can’t do that,’ I said. ‘We’ll have to take the bus because you have to stay here and watch the library. Remember? It has to remain open all the time we’re gone. You’ll have to stay until we get back.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Foster said. ‘After that experience I had a little while ago, I don’t know. You couldn’t get somebody to come in from one of those temporary employment agencies to handle it, a Kelly Girl or something like that, huh? Hell, I’d pay for it out of my own pocket. They can take care of the library while I go down to North Beach and take in a few topless shows while I’m here.’
‘No, Foster,’ I said. ‘We can’t trust this library to just anyone. You’ll have to stay here while we’re gone. We’re not going to be gone long.’
‘Humour him, Foster,’ Vida said.
‘OK. I wonder what the next nut will be about who brings a book in.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘That was an exception. Things will run smoothly while we’re gone.’
‘I’ll bet.’
Foster got ready to go outside. ‘Here, have another drink of whisky,’ Foster said. ‘I’m going to take the bottle with me.’
‘When does the plane leave?’ Vida said.
‘8.15,’ Foster said. ‘Our pal here can’t drive, so I guess you’ll have to take the bus because the Library Kid here wants me to stay and tend his garden of nuts.’
‘I can drive,’ Vida said, looking smoothly-beautiful and young.
‘Can you drive a van?’ Foster said.
‘I think so,’ she said. ‘I used to drive trucks and pick-ups one summer when I was on a ranch in Montana. I’ve always been able to drive anything that’s got four wheels, sports cars, anything. I even drove a school bus once, taking some kids on a picnic.’
‘A van’s different,’ Foster said.
‘I’ve driven a horse van,’ Vida said.
‘This isn’t a horse van,’ Foster said, now somewhat outraged. ‘There’s never been a horse in my van!’
‘Foster,’ Vida said. ‘Don’t get mad, dear. I was just telling you that I can drive it. I can drive anything. I’ve never been in an accident. I’m a good driver. That’s all. You have a beautiful van.’
‘It’s a good one,’ Foster said, now placated. ‘Well, I guess I don’t see a
ny harm in it and it would get you out there a lost faster than the bus and you could get back here faster. It would be a lot smoother ride. Buses are horrible, and you can park it right out there at the airfield. I guess I won’t need the van while I’m working at this God-damn madhouse. Sure, you can take it, but drive carefully. There’s only one van like that in the whole world and she’s mine and I love her.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Vida said. ‘I’ll love it, too.’
‘Good deal,’ Foster said. ‘Well, I guess I’d better go out and get to bed. Any more whisky here?’
‘No, I think we’ve had enough,’ I said.
‘OK.’
‘Do you want us to wake you?’ Vida said.
‘No, I’ll be up,’ Foster said. ‘I can get up when I want to, down to the minute. I’ve got an alarm clock in my head. It always gets me up. Oh, I almost: forgot to tell you something. Don’t eat anything for breakfast tomorrow. It’s against the rules?’
Johnny Cash
After Foster left to go out and spend the night in his van, we started getting ready for tomorrow. We wouldn’t have much time in the morning when we woke up.
Vida had enough clothes there at the library, so she wouldn’t have to go home. Even though she only lived a block from the library, I of course had never been there. Sometimes in the past I had been curious about her place and she told me about it.
‘It’s very simple,’ she told me. ‘I don’t have much. All I have is a few books on a shelf, a white rug, a little marble table on the floor, and some records for my stereo: Beatles, Bach, Rolling Stones, Byrds, Vivaldi, Wanda Landowska, Johnny Cash. I’m not a beatnik. It’s just that I always considered my body to be more possessions than I ever needed and so everything else had to be simple.’
She packed a few clothes for us in an old KLM bag and our toothbrushes and my razor in case we had to stay overnight in San Diego.
‘I’ve never had an abortion before,’ Vida said. ‘I hope we don’t have to stay overnight in San Diego. I was there once and I didn’t like it. There are too many unlaid sailors there and everything is either stone stark or neon cheap. It’s not a good town.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said. ‘We’ll just play it by ear, and if everything’s all right, we’ll come back tomorrow evening.’
‘That sounds reasonable,’ Vida said, finishing with our simple packing.
‘Well, let’s have a kiss, honey, and go to bed. We need some sleep,’ I said. ‘We’re both tired and we have to get up early in the morning.’
‘I’ll have to take a bath and a douche,’ Vida said. ‘And put a little dab of perfume behind my ears.’
I took Vida in my arms and gathered the leaves and blossoms of her close, a thing she returned to me, delicate and bouquet-like. Then we took off our clothes and got into bed. I put out the light and she said, ‘Did you set the clock, honey?’
‘Oh, I forgot,’ I said. ‘I’ll get up.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I should have remembered to set the clock. What time do you want to wake up? Six?’
‘No, I think you’d better make it 5.30. I want to take care of my “female complaints” before Foster wakes up, so I can cook a good breakfast for all of us. It’ll be a long day and we’ll need a solid start.’
‘The lady is not for breakfast,’ I said. ‘Remember what Foster said?’
‘Oh. Oh, that’s right. I forgot,’ Vida said.
It was hard for a minute and then we both smiled across the darkness at what we were doing. Though we could not see our smiles, we knew they were there and it comforted us as dark-night smiles have been doing for thousands of years for the problemed people of the earth.
I got up and turned the light on. Vida was still smiling softly as I set the clock for 5.30. It was absolutely too late for remorse now or to cry against the Fates. We were firmly in the surgical hands of Mexico.
‘Genius’
Vida did not look at all pregnant as she got into her bath. Her stomach was still so unbelievably thin that it was genius and I wondered how there could be enough intestines in there to digest any food larger than cookies or berries.
Her breasts were powerful but delicate and wet at the nipples.
She had put a pot of coffee on before she had got into the tub and I was standing there watching it perk and watching her bathe at the same time through the open door of the bathroom.
She had her hair piled and pinned on top of her head. It looked beautiful resting on the calm of her neck.
We were both tired, but not as nervous as we could have been facing the prospects of the day, because we had gone into a gentle form of shock that makes it easier to do one little thing after another, fragile step by fragile step, until you’ve done the big difficult thing waiting at the end, no matter what it is.
I think we have the power to transform our lives into brand-new instantaneous rituals that we calmly act out when something hard comes up that we must do.
We become like theatres.
I was taking turns watching the coffee perk and watching Vida at her bath. It was going to be a long day but fortunately we would get there only moment by moment.
‘Is the coffee done yet?’ Vida said.
I smelled the coffee fumes that were rising like weather from the spout. They were dark and heavy with coffee. Vida had taught me how to smell coffee. That was the way she made it.
I had always been an instant man, but she had taught me how to make real coffee and it was a good thing to learn. Where had I been all those years, thinking in terms of coffee as dust?
I thought about making coffee for a little while as I watched it perk. It’s strange how the simple things in life go on while we become difficult.
‘Honey, did you hear me?’ Vida said. ‘The coffee. Stop daydreaming and get on the coffee, dear. Is it done?’
‘I was thinking about something else,’ I said.
Foster’s Bell
Vida put on a simple but quite attractive white blouse with a short blue skirt — you could see easily above her knees — and a little half-sweater thing on over the blouse. I’ve never been able to describe clothes so that anyone knows what I am talking about.
She did not have any make-up on except for her eyes. They looked dark and blue in the way that we like eyes to look in these last years of the seventh decade of the Twentieth Century.
I heard the silver bell ringing on the library door. The bell was ringing rapidly in a kind of shocked manner. The bell seemed almost frightened and crying for help.
It was Foster.
Foster had never really taken to that bell. He had always insisted that it was a sissy bell and always offered to put a bell up himself. He continued the thing as I let him in. I opened the door but he stood there with his hand on the bell rope, though he was not ringing the bell any more.
It was still dark and Foster was wearing his eternal T-shirt and his buffalo-heavy blond hair hung about his shoulders.
‘You should take my advice,’ he said. ‘Get rid of this damn bell and let me put a real bell up for you.’
‘We don’t want a bell that will frighten people,’ I said.
‘What do you mean frighten people? How in the hell can a bell frighten people?’
‘We need a bell that fits the service we offer, that blends in with the library. We need a gentle bell here.’
‘No roughneck bells, huh?’ Foster said.
‘I wouldn’t put it that way,’ I said.
‘Hell,’ Foster said. ‘This bell rings like a God-damn queer down on Market Street. What are you running here?’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said.
‘Well, I’m just trying to look out for your best interests. That’s all, kid.’ He reached over and gave the bell a little tap on its butt.
‘Foster!’ I said.
‘Hell, kid, a tin can and a spoon make a great bell.’
‘What about a fork and a knife and a bowl of so
up to go with it, Foster? A little mashed potatoes and gravy and maybe a turkey leg? What about that? Wouldn’t that make a good bell?’
‘Forget it,’ Foster said. He reached over and gave the bell another little tap on its silver butt and said, ‘Good-bye, sweetie.’
The TJ Briefing
Vida cooked Foster and me a good breakfast, though she didn’t have anything with us except some coffee.
‘You certainly look pretty this morning,’ Foster said. ‘You look like a dream I’ve never had before.’
‘I bet you tell that to all the girls,’ Vida said. ‘I can see that you’re a flirt from way back.’
‘I’ve had a girlfriend or two,’ Foster said.
‘Some more coffee?’ Vida said.
‘Yeah, another cup of coffee would be fine. Sure is good coffee. Somebody here knows their way around coffee beans.’
‘What about you, honey?’ Vida said.
‘Sure.’
‘There you go.’
‘Thank you.’
Vida sat back down.
‘Well, you know what you’re supposed to do,’ Foster said after breakfast. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. Dr Garcia is a wonderful doctor. There will be no pain or fuss. Everything will go just beautifully. You know how to get there. It’s just a few blocks off the Main Street of town.
‘The doc may want to try and get a few extra bucks out of you, but hold the line and say, “Well, Doctor Garcia, Foster said that it was 200 dollars and that’s all we brought and here it is,” and take it out of your pocket.
‘He’ll look a little nervous and then he’ll take it and put it in his pocket without counting it and then he’s just like the best doctor in the whole wide world. Have faith in him and do what he says and relax and everything will be all right.
‘He’s a wonderful doctor. He saves a lot of people a lot of trouble.’
The Library Briefing
The Abortion: An Historical Romance 1966 Page 6
