The Collected Stories of Diane Williams

by Diane Williams

  Mom examined with her fingers, smoothing the phenomenon away. The boy set off for some good fortune along the parched pathway which led away from the pathway. Surrounded by shrubs which had stuck their thorns into him, he had climbed into them. Couldn’t I get out? he thought.

  He thought, breathless with the reversal of for­tune, How can I be so clever? What was it my mother said? He contemplated brambles with monoecious flowers and globose fruit of woody carpels.

  To him, this midday felt like his first midday, of his not being soothingly cut.

  Aggressive Glass and Mirrors

  “I didn’t know he was famous,” my husband said.

  I said, “He said all he knew is that he wanted to be famous.” I had praised Yves.

  Later that night I glared at my husband. The time limit was a few seconds. I think when you’re younger the first idea you have is that adults want to talk.

  My brother Joe—I was at ease with him—arrived shortly. My chin hit something.

  “Do you have something in your eye?” my brother said.

  “Yes.”

  “Go rinse your eye.”

  “What’s the matter?” my husband said.

  “She has something in her eye. Go rinse your eye.”

  “I should clean it.”

  “Yes, you should do so.”

  And agitate slightly. Rinse with water and wipe dry. If laden with dirt, apply cleaner with brush. Don’t vomit. Flood with water. Continued use is approved.

  Accomplished a feat. The sky turns a different shade. It looks like it usually looks for weeks now. The glass roof of the sky is tilted up. Peeping under­neath, I see the world the same as this one.

  Time-Consuming

  Striking Combinations

  The future has not yet produced anything to be happy about.

  Yes, yes, they saw the bunching up that forms chewed-up gum, an assortment of pretzels, mustachios, and puzzling sex.

  They are prepared for frosted coffee rings and something terribly wrong and they have just bumped into each other which signifies their marriage.

  There is lip smacking even if their infant comes up and goes down covered with hair, face, shoulders, and arms.

  The man wears his fawn needlecord coat under the evening dress tailcoat and the pecan brown corded cotton jacket with button-attached sleeve extensions under the white coat and the melton woolen black overcoat when their promenade begins to flood.

  Suitcases have been packed and crucial packages and cartons are labeled sacred.

  They can fly and love to shock. Rain clouds are secret, hidden, hidden, secret, secret, secret, hidden, double and pleasant-faced.

  The rainy afternoon is not hot, not peaceful, and is perfumed.

  Pastry is fancy rolls, sponge-type cakes, egg yolk cakes with creamy chocolate frosting served with unusual, very strong, formerly filled sandwiches that open with a bang and leap toward a breathtaking eater.

  The nourishment, flapping, crammed its heavy-scented stuff.

  Both My Wife and I

  were Very Well Satisfied

  It felt unfortunately like a bite of a good meal. He likes his wife so well. The smell of beets was not easy to shake. He put his glass on the table. He said, “Most people who come in here, they’re weak. They want you to drink um three or four of those a day. I had to drink ninety ounces. First, it’s a ball. I will tell you how it goes. They’re really good with these kids. They’re real witty, every one of them. I know for a fact. Who, oh, there are so many more! There are women in the world!”

  “My wife never threw away any piece of toast!”

  “Mine did.”

  “My wife is a good scraper. She isn’t a good scraper, she just scrapes a lot. I’m a good scraper.”

  “I know you are. That’s not that bad. Oh, I could. I’m going to give credit where credit is due. I lay no claim. She said um she said if there’s a conflict where we live at, she’ll handle it. Giant. I mean giant.”

  “Yes, and fun. And dishes of nuts and dishes of chocolates and dishes of cigarettes and light real water.”

  She Began

  She is slow-footed and her underparts are clean. She crosses the garden and sees dust which has fallen neatly into the basin. She could want to make this crossing every day.

  There is a mound in the garden three to five feet or more across. She crosses over that mound. She steps on a succulent with salverform flowers and oblong leaves. She steps on an inflorescence or on an efflorescence. She crushes a dense rosette. She spares some racemes and plantlets and not because of spe­cial circumstances.

  An American couple does recognize her because she is famous for her great success on the earth and please don’t add silence into this because it is mak­ing me weepy—so they extend a sincere invitation to her for her to stay with them in Philadelphia and she thanks them again for the drinks and for the conversations and for their delightful, spreading, nodding, insignificant flesh, and for the palpability of the big strides they take with their mouths some­what open.

  Baby Flourishes

  The baby spent time on a pitiful romance. She felt herself to be in the arms—somehow gathered, forci­bly invited, incapable of enjoying herself, and very much in love.

  Opening the Closing

  Mouth of the Woman

  A penis leans on walls inside her. Faustine—that is her name—is dedicated to the rammers after she has been loaded with their meaning. A corner of her is being slightly shaped.

  The King Emperor

  They say they sat on the moldy border near a Kousa dogwood, under a different low-growing tree, which is the oldest tree in the story. It has arching branches, red berries, and fine-textured, robust bark.

  Both were commenting that there is always some­thing each wishes for that comes true.

  He took his neckerchief off and the gauntlets, and his soiled coat—touched it willingly on the sleeve—and fawned over the woman whose name is Beth Schwenk and I am not just blowing smoke up your ass. He said, “Oh, you have been everywhere!”

  People—and I do too—present stories and stories about him just to destabilize.

  He had the clamber to hump Schwenk and to enjoy what he frogged or was able to wring off as a prisoner of the love scene.

  There is much impertinence in trying to make more of this public.

  He’s sure got a weak spot for her, but it’s getting harder all of the time at the dirty end of his stick when his chances come to pass in reality.

  Just to have a name like his name must be such a pleasure. He’s had two chances. Now they hear him promising.

  It sounds as if he’s right around the corner now in all of June, even if he had to stand in the no-hope-for-you corridor.

  He knows the collections of laws.

  He has relief in The House decorated by Blue China Furs and semi-evergreen shrubs with poorly-stemmed flowers planted in well-drained soil. The House is equipped with tiles and portraits of people who see right through me. It’s heartbreaking pretend­ing to be sympathetic to him. He taught his horse to jump. Yes, he’s voluptuous and kind and the eldest son of the first gentleman. Some of the most momen­tous daughters and sons come from that guy.

  He is popular with the people, unplain in face, and one of the great men with his plump heart so animadverted upon.

  He wasn’t as great as this before this rain. He will be hardly much different after the rain.

  He took the candle and the blankets and is noisy and difficult because he’s the fellow who lives with Beth Schwenk and what shoots forth from him he pledges is the light in his eyes. Schwenk waits for me.

  I see what this is. I’ve screwed my head off in the middle of my neck for the royalty.

  Please Let Me Out Again of

  the Small Plugged Hole

  He
r face was as useless to her as hot stew. Her breasts were tight, unripe. She wore a that’s very funny expression.

  Another thing, her old clothes were tight.

  In a frame on a wall was a picture of an old baby. Furthermore, a tailor measured her for tunics, for a decent striped skirt, for a sash, for underwear to cover her buttocks.

  She didn’t dare to say what she was getting at.

  Her socks were twisted. She climbed back up towards the benefits of better function and pleasure, although she was developing a head cold.

  And, the woman had trouble with her socks, but no trouble with sex she could sneeze at.

  Step this way. Another thing, they were awfully tight, her tight clothes.

  But, uh, her hips spread as she jumped through where all the candles were lit, where people entered, and where there was a rose tree, at any rate.

  THE PHILADELPHIA STORY

  1

  For several years now I have been a girl who is not married and I like to get married while I am still charming.

  We open the house and gardens regularly for my weddings, although at some point I have to get reas­surance in serge clothes and with my fingernail var­nish on.

  For as long as I can remember I think pleasantly about the town’s library. So now, how about a trip to the library?

  2

  Jimmy Stewart wrote a book I’m reading here that puts me in mind of a November in which the whole world has a familiar large lamp—gold—that flaunts its gleam on the nineteen hundreds. His hero looks in my direction so that I’d like to go over to him and beg him to help me. I’d give him more beers so he’d talk to me about me. He really wants to be looked at and to be questioned. He says, “I am perplexing.”

  On a more cheerful note, while lying in bed with Jimmy Stewart, I got very excited. He’s a good friend of mine, although the next thing to be concerned about is that this is being written.

  3

  I should give myself the name Lord. I am haughty enough.

  My father was Uncle Willie. The treasures at home with everything else elegant on display include a rare William and Mary silver-gilt traveling spoon with a detachable handle, just for me and mine; an elaborate eight-piece sterling silver tea and coffee ser­vice; my gingham ruffled skirt; the silver cigarette box. Bins are filled with eyeglass cases, shoelaces, and Tru-Touch vinyl gloves for the manor. The pleasures are the family atmosphere.

  C. K. Dexter Haven, the man I love, he’s been able to get his popularity numbers up there. I need to move on this very quickly, although I petted other men, not meant for me, nearly all day, and nearly all night long. Ruth Hussey puts up with so much from me. Ruth Hussey should not put up with so much. Nobody could know how much Ruth Hussey put up with.

  In the morning, for a few minutes, I sit between the wall and my bed, on the floor, ungowned.

  Let’s have one last drink!

  4

  Mother Lord, I see, drinks two capfuls. I drink one capful.

  I look—look, I look like a white woman and there are people among us having terrible emotions.

  I describe myself on foot en route to the north parlor. I admire the plate on the wall and the dish hung above it, and the long guns.

  I say, “Sex-see-ool!”

  And there’s the bowl of avocadoes.

  “Answer me!” says George Kittredge. “Where have you been?”

  This was to be our real-enough wedding day, but not now.

  C. K. Dexter Haven says, “You worry yourself for nothing.”

  Jimmy Stewart says, “She has not lain with me.”

  “Come, Daughter,” says Pap-pah. “Hold me. Encourage me. Be strong.”

  Eat the Deep Too!

  Some of us are very good and some aren’t. You know, some did their homework and got good grades. Likely they’d get a blank stare from you.

  “I have to put in the medicine,” the girl said. “I have to brush my teeth.”

  “I told them you do everything better than I do,” the other girl said.

  “Who did you tell?”

  “Bett!”

  “Bett! Bett!”

  Bett started to cross her mind. Bett hung there waiting to be helpful and then Bett groaned.

  In any event, people show you there is a way to have pleasure.

  Cutting and Dressing

  The doctor said to me, “Then you have a wonderful night.”

  The term wonderful night is used to refer to the inner sanctum that has sex feeling in it.

  There is a widespread misconception about the look, feel, and texture of a doctor’s waiting room. The doctor asked me did I want to give him my co-pay now.

  For the handover, I wore toreador pants and bone leather shoes with little heels—backless and strapless. I did not bend my knees, but instead stiff-walked to my sitdown in a chair. My feet I kept up parallel to the floor and I crossed my legs at the ankles.

  Back at home for a cold lunch in my house with a red-tile roof, I sat in my own chair for sitting stiffly.

  People are lovely things. People must have seen that my hair was in flat-knuckled curls and really inconsiderately fixed. My walls are papered with a moiré pattern. My floor is covered by split brick pav­ers. I’ve got a tea cart set out with plastic cups, lime green drink, and a plate of dry baked products.

  My tot Silvanus—with bad habits and suddenly—we had set the boy free!—pulled himself up onto our lyre back side chair. Completely frenzied, the chair fell—and, because this child has never been signi­ficantly maltreated, he was stunned by the fall and he’s dead.

  Dangeresque

  Mrs. White at the Red Shop showed me the beady-eyed garment, but I can’t pay for it. I’m broke! I already own a gold ring and a gold-filled wristwatch and I am very uncomfortable with these. My eyes sweep the garment and its charms.

  I am tempted to say this is how love works, bury­ing everyone in the same style.

  Through a fault of my own I set off as if I’m on a horse and just point and go to the next village.

  This village is where flowers are painted on the sides of my house—big red dots, big yellow balls.

  At home, stuck over a clock’s pretty face, is a note from my husband to whom I do not show affection. With a swallow of tap water, I take a geltab.

  By this time I had not yet apologized for my actions. Last night my husband told me to get up out of the bed and to go into another room.

  My husband’s a kind man, a clever man, a patient man, an honest man, a hard-working man.

  Many people have the notion we live in an age where more people who behave just like he does lurk.

  See, I may have a childlike attitude, but a woman I once read about attempted a brand new direction with a straight face.

  Jewish Folktale

  Around here, I see plenty of Haddock, an overall fig­ure with his meaning growing, with a friendly frown, flanked on each side by a dog. I wonder how his bowel movements are.

  I saw Mr. Haddock at the bay, perhaps picking up his spirits. It’s peaceful at the bay and Haddock says he does not have an ailment. He has no eye problems and perfect ears.

  You know—fluid-filled space!—a bay, the bay!

  Fancy cushion clouds at the bay are the same shapes and sizes as I saw when I had an exact under­standing of conditions greater than my emotions.

  Mr. Haddock’s laugh—yeah, it is similar, but that’s not what it sounds like. I remembered what it sounds like—then when you did that—I forgot.

  There are a lot of young, forgetful people taking one up these days. At least I can make my claims.

  Fifteen years ago there was a cloud I saw which moved around, traveled, came by, fled into the woods, exerted a strong influence, spent more than half an hour there, was free to roam, before returning to the village,
where the cloud added up to a source of pride.

  To Squeeze Water

  “You need to,” the woman said. “People should be made to say. People should be forced to say I am not a bad person,” the woman said. “Can you talk about that?”

  “That’s very private,” the man said.

  Jessamine, Ewing,

  Erastus, and Keane

  I mention to Happy the honor of knowing Earl. I have loved Earl for months and for months and now get relief from not loving Earl.

  I try to be most agreeable about this—I tell Mar­quis Abraham. It could have been the Marquis, but the Marquis’s hair would not bunch up like that.

  “Happy! Happy!” I say.

  “Eat this,” Happy says, “it will help you.”

  A loaf with a sauce.

  They fired Happy, then Megdalia was fired and Sandra, not Marvin. Percy can’t help me anymore.

  Percy once helped me. He made a hole and took my blood. He said, “I just want to cut through the fat!” He said, “Everybody who comes in here has the same color blood!”

  “Take the food with you, your underpants, and the directions,” one woman who created and arranged me said.

  And sad to say, I don’t find that very interesting.

  Her Leg

  “I would do anything for my son,” she said. “But how little we know of what he really wants.”

  Meanwhile, her arm would release me. She told me what she serves for meals.

  “It’s all going to all work out,” my husband said. “She will love you as much as she loves me.”