by Gordon Lish
"All right," she said. "It's two now. Expect me at four—four by the clock that said it's two."
"It was my watch," I said.
"Good," she said.
It is ninety miles, an easy drive.
At a quarter to four, I went down to the street. I had these things in mind—look for her car, hold a parking place, be there waving when she turned into the block.
At a quarter to five, I came back up.
I changed my shirt. I wiped off my shoes. I looked into the mirror to see if I looked like someone's father.
SHE PRESENTED HERSELF shortly after six o'clock.
"Traffic?" I said.
"No," she said, and that was the end of that.
After dinner, she complained of insufferable pains, and doubled over on the dining-room floor.
"My belly," she said.
"What?" I said.
She said, "My belly. It's agony. Get me a doctor."
There is a large and famous hospital mere blocks from my apartment. Celebrities go there, statesmen, people who must know what they are doing.
With the help of a doorman and an elevator man, I got my child to the hospital. Within minutes, two physicians and a corps of nurses took the matter in hand.
I stood by watching.
It was hours before they had her undoubled and were willing to announce their findings.
A bellyache, a rogue cramp, a certain stubborn but un-specifiable seizure of the intestine—vagrant, unamusing, but not worth the bother of further concern.
WE LEFT THE HOSPITAL unassisted, using a chain of tunnels in order to shorten the distance home. The exposed distance, that is—since it would be four in the morning on the city streets, and though the blocks would be few, each one of them would be a challenge to a person of gentle bearing. So we made our way along the system of underground passages that link the units of the hospital, this until we were forced to surface and exit into the jeopardy of experience. We came out onto a street with not a person on it—until I saw him, a man who was going from car to car. He carried something under his arm. It looked to be a furled umbrella—but it could not have been what it looked to be. No, no, it had to have been a tool of entry disguised as something innocent.
He turned to us as we stepped along, and then he turned back to his work—loitering at the automobiles, trying the doors, sometimes using the thing to dig at the windows.
"Don't look," I said.
My daughter said, "What?"
I said, "There's someone across the street. He's trying to jimmy open cars. Just please keep behaving as if you do not see him."
My daughter said, "Where? I don't see him."
I PUT MY DAUGHTER to bed and the hospital charges on my desk, and then I let my head down on the pillow and listened.
There was nothing to hear.
Before I surrendered myself to sleep, there was only this in my mind—the boy in the treatment room across the corridor from my daughter's, how I had wanted to cry out each time the boy had cried out as a stitch was sutured into his hand.
"Take it out! Take it out!"
This is what the boy was shrieking as the surgeon labored to close the wound.
I thought about the feeling in me when I had heard that awful wailing. The boy wanted the needle out. I suppose the needle hurt worse than the wound the needle would repair. Then I considered the statement for emergency services, translating the amount first into theater tickets, then into shirts ironed and returned to you on hangers instead of inside those awful bags.
FOR JEROMÉ–WITH LOVE AND KISSES
Jaydeezie darling,
dear cutie fellow,
my wonderful son Jerome,
YOU WILL DO ME A FAVOR and answer me this question, please God it should not be for you too much trouble for you to do it. So you will take all of two seconds and you will tell me, Jerome, since when did you hear of a civilized person which gets rid of a perfectly good unlisted and then goes and gets on top of it another one? Also, darling, assuming you could see your way clear to fit it into your busy schedule, you will inform me as to the whys and wherefores of how come the same aforementioned individual couldn't exhibit the simple courtesy to first communicate to his own father the particulars with regard to the necessary digits. So this is asking too much, Jerrychik? I mean, first and foremost your father wants your assurance he is not causing you too big of a perturbance. Listen, you will be a sport and you will take all of two seconds and you will list for me the reasons for this behavior. Because to tell you the truth, pussycat, in my personal opinion, I think your father is entitled to hear an explanation.
I am waiting, darling. God willing, you will go into private conference with your heart of hearts and think the whole thing over and advise me as to your decision. So you could do this for me, cutie fellow? Because I your father am meanwhile sitting here on pins and needles expecting. Make yourself a promise that in a voice which is calmness itself you will pick up the telephone for the sole and exclusive purpose of advising I your father whether you decided in your mind if this is the behavior of a civilized person.
Meanwhile, who could help himself but to think along the lines of a certain possible conjecture? So plunge a dagger into my breast for giving serious consideration to the following theory, but are we dealing here with a situation where the party of the first part says to himself, "The phone rings and I pick it up, it could be the party of the second part trying to communicate with me, but could he do it if I get another new unlisted?"
So go ahead and plunge a dagger, Jerome, because what your father just told you is more or less along the lines of your father's personal thinking. And may I inform you, darling, that the father who is doing this thinking is also the same father who all of two seconds ago only wanted in his heart of hearts to say hello to you and wish his cutie fellow Happy High Holidays?
Sonny boy, I will tell you something. You got my permission to stab me in a vital organ for passing comment, but I want for you to hear with your own two ears my appraisal of the foregoing situation. Because the answer is it's not nice. Jerome, when I see behavior like this, I have to say to myself it is not nice. And thank God I still got the strength in my body for me to say it. But don't look at me, Jerome—because your father did not make the rules, sweetie, even if the rule is it is definitely not.
And so long as we are discussing the philosophy in this particular department, Jerome, I will tell you something else. Objectively speaking, in my personal opinion your whole area code should be ashamed of itself to have an operator that's got the unmitigated gall to say to a senior citizen get lost. Because in so many words, darling, this is just what the snip up there in 603 said. For shame, Jerome, for shame! And to a person of your father's years and age.
Are you listening to me, darling? To your own flesh and blood a total stranger says get lost! So tell me, boychik, this is what they teach them in your area code? Or did this person get some coaching from a mutual party of our acquaintance who at this juncture I your father will go ahead and leave unnamed? In so many words, take a walk? I want you to tell me, Jerome, what kind of a creature says take a walk to the father of the child? Because I hope I do not have to remind you that the father who heard these words said to him is also the same father who would lay down his life for his cutie boy, please God I should only be alive and well to do it when you got nothing better planned and you decide in your mind it is time for you to ask.
Look, Jerrychik, if God makes a miracle and you find the strength to call me, who knows, maybe you could afford to take an extra two seconds to give me the figures on what it costs you in so many dollars and cents to get an operator to talk like this to a person of my advanced years and age, never mind if I told her it was an emergency and also that the party in question is also my very own child. Listen, would the woman divulge the first digit? You are down to her on your hands and knees to her, but is this a normal area code with a single shred of human decency?
Boychik, I am sitting
here and I am thinking certain thoughts to myself. So are you interested in the nature of your father's current thinking? Because the answer is if a certain person wants to be a hermit, well and good—then let him go live where they don't have even an area code to begin with. But barring this contingency, I say that so long as you continue to maintain your permanent residence in 603, I think that I your father have a perfect right to be informed as to the rest of the particulars after these three digits!
Tell me, cutie person, did you ever stop to consider all of the ramifications of the situation we are dealing with here? So stop to think and tell me what if, for instance, it was a question of in sickness or in health? I want you to think about this, Jerome. I want you to consider it very carefully. They come in here and they shoot your father in the head. So like any normal person, I rush to the telephone to call you up and tell you the news. But what is the upshot in the situation we are considering? What is in this case the net result? Believe me, your father did not have to pick up and go to college to describe to you what you get when you look at the net result. Because the answer is it's some snip up there in 603 which says to me when I am bleeding to death in so many words get lost!
Okay, so don't excite yourself, Jerrychik.
I promise you, all is forgiven, all is forgotten. And besides, it was only for the sake of argument I said it could be a question of in sickness or in health. So far they didn't come in here yet and shoot me yet. All right, you never know, but so far they didn't. Meanwhile, thank God it was only a question of hello and good-bye, my sonny boy should live and be well. I give you my written guarantee, Jerome, this is all your father had scheduled for the agenda, Happy High Holidays and hello and good-bye. In two seconds flat, the whole deal would have been over and done with, and you know what? You would have lived to tell the tale!
So go pick up a hammer and bang me on the head with it because your father was going crazy to hear his sonny boy's voice. Cutie guy, you know what? I only hope and pray I am alive to see the day when vice-versa is the case. Please God, Heaven should make a miracle and your father should live that long, you won't have to worry, his number is in the book. Believe me, you would not have to talk yourself blue in the face, Jerome. You would not have to stand on your left ear and dance a jig and then hear my particular area code say to my child, "That's cute, that's nice, now do us a favor and go take a hike."
SO WHAT IS IT NOW, darling?
First, it was your own room.
Next, it was your own business.
So now, in the final analysis, season after season, it's what, sweet creature, it's what?
Sonny boy, can your father give you a piece of his personal advice? You promise you wouldn't excite yourself if your father talks to you as far as advice from the bottom of his heart of hearts? Because I am here to tell you, darling, sometimes your father does not know if he dares to open his mouth with you. But who can breathe with this on my chest, such a burden it's like a big stone? So go get a hammer and hit me with all your might with it, but meanwhile it is on your father's chest and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, he's got to get it off.
Sweetie boy, you know what it means where it says enough is enough? It means you do not go overboard! It means whatever the department, it gets handled accordingly. Because there comes a time in every life when enough is definitely enough! And you know something? Your father did not have to go to college for him to tell you this is the rule. But go look it up for yourself, it's there in black and white. You name me the department, the answer is you do not go overboard as far as it because the rule is enough is enough. Like with the woman who goes up to the judge, for instance, you heard about this, Jerome? So this woman says to this judge, "You'll give me a divorce," and the judge says back to her, "At your years and age you want a divorce? You are how old—ninety maybe, ninety-five?" And the woman says to him, "Ninety-seven last July." So the judge says to her, "You come to me now, ninety-seven last July?" You hear this, Jerome? This judge says to this woman, "Why come to me now, a person who could any instant drop dead?" Jerome darling, I want you to know what this woman said to this judge. Boychik darling, are you listening with both ears to this? Because she said to this man, "Because enough is enough!"
This is wisdom, sweet person, this is wisdom. I don't have to tell you what wisdom. Granted, you are a genius in your own right. But even a genius could live and learn. Even a brilliant individual and an intelligent fellow like that judge could. Believe me, Jerrychik, that woman didn't have to go to college and study at the feet of no Einstein for her to teach that judge what it's all about. And the man was an educated man, Jerome! But just ask yourself, did the man or did the man not have a lot to learn?
Boychik, this is your father's advice to you from your father's heart of hearts. In words of one syllable, darling, there comes a time when you have to say to yourself enough is enough. But let's face it, who am I to open up my mouth and try to teach a genius like yourself? Listen, just because I am the father and know from bitter experience, does this make me entitled to tell you what it's all about? Forget even that I am the elder, Jerome. Forget even that I as your father would jump off the tallest building for you. It still doesn't give me the right to come along and spell out the facts of life for a person who is a genius, even if it just so happens he is a human being which doesn't know which end is up.
But meanwhile, cutie boy, your father knows what he knows, and he didn't wait around for some professor to come along and spell out to him the facts of life. You name me the subject, Jerome, every college in the world will tell you there is one rule which is first and foremost if you want to be a grown-up, and for your information it is the one which says to people enough is definitely enough. Granted, a genius has a perfect right to think to himself, "I am a genius and I just discovered a subject where the rule is enough can never be enough." You think your father does not understand this and give full faith and credit to it, Jerome? You think your father does not realize that with a genius the brain gets all balled up and it says to itself, "I just found a subject where all bets are off"?
So just for argument's sake, sweetheart, let's consider this particular situation. Because your father is willing to go along with you and to consider with you the question from all sides. Like just suppose I pick a subject off the top of my cuff and we go ahead and examine it like, let us say, two civilized adults. So how about for instance privacy maybe? Let's for instance consider a person who says to you he has got to have his PRIVACY or else. So for two seconds, Jerome, you and your father will make believe that this is our subject, P-R-I-V-A-C-Y.
Now tell me, Mr. Genius, did your father know which one to pick? Because don't worry, Jerrychik, this subject your father could put his hands on it for you blindfolded and even with his eyes shut and the room is pitch-black! Not to mention he could also spell it for you backwards and sideways and meanwhile tell you it still comes out the same thing, which is G-E-T L-O-S-T. But God forbid your father should dare to start to spell for a person who is the world's smartest human being and is therefore supposed to know how to spell for himself.
Listen, pussycat, you don't have to stand on ceremony with me, I promise you. Go ahead, whenever you're ready, I'm ready. Go get a hammer or a dagger, whichever it wouldn't be too big of an effort for you to go get. Believe me, sweetheart, as a genius and as a brilliant child, you got a perfect right to go ahead and get whatever it pleases you for you to go get. Listen, God willing if you could spare the time from your important business for you to get up and go look for it, maybe you could lay your hands on a red-hot poker and put out both my eyes with it if this is what it takes to make you feel better. Because you know what, Jerome? Because your father just heard himself mention the subject of privacy, so he doesn't deserve whatever you decide in your mind is the very worst punishment for him?
Maybe you should call the F.B.I., Jerome.
So call the F.B.I, because your father just had the gall to try to do justice to the subject and talk to his sonny b
oy from the bottom of his heart of hearts.
Do you hear me, boychik? I am waiting for whatever punishment which in your brilliant opinion would be the one which your father couldn't take. Because if just breathing your father makes such a racket his pussycat couldn't hear himself think, all you got to do is pick up the telephone and tell them you want to report me for making a tumult it's a crime for a parent to make. So you'll call the G-men instead of the F.B.I. if the F.B.I. answers and they tell you right this minute they are too busy with other cases, darling, they couldn't come this instant to make an arrest.
LISTEN, JEROME DARLING, I want to give you every assurance your father would not blame you for one second if you went and got another new unlisted on top of the one you just got. But why knock yourself out, cutie guy, why? Use your common sense! You think your father would stand by and let you have to go all of the way down to the telephone company for you to wait around to all hours until they get good and ready down there to inform you as to the ins and outs of all of your new digits? Believe me, boychik, you only have to ask and your father will spare you all this heartache. Because even if with just my mouth breathing it's so loud you couldn't bear it in your brain, forget the phone company, all you got to do is speak up. Do you think I your father would deny you one shred of your happiness for one single minute? So why hesitate? A little tiny signal is all your father asks of you. You wouldn't even have to lift a finger if the uproar the blood in my veins makes happens to constitute for you such a terrible perturbance to your privacy you don't get the peace and quiet you need for you to go ahead and be a genius. You could wink, darling. Lifting a finger, I definitely do not recommend it for an artistic person. Who knows, you might strain something—it's not worth it for you to take a chance as far as a hernia. One wink, Jerrychik, and all your worries will be over. One wink from my sonny boy will be more than sufficient. Because forget it, your father will take it from there, your father will do all of the running, whereas you yourself could just sit back and relax and write for everybody another bestseller. Don't worry, don't worry, you wouldn't even have to give me a whole wink if you decide in your mind you don't feel up to it. Darling, you could give your father maybe a mini-wink if this is your decision. Because I guarantee you, sweetheart, one mini-wink from his genius and already your father will be racing up the stairs of this building, hoping and praying in his heart of hearts the management didn't put no railing around the roof so I couldn't jump without calling for assistance. Believe me, I apologize, Jerome, that your father didn't when he moved in here exhibit the foresight to go up and take a look to see the setup there in the first place.
