by Gordon Lish
Jerome darling, are you listening to this? Did you hear when the brother that's in 305 says to the man, "So meanwhile so how is Mother?" Now pay attention, darling, because I want for you please to also listen and hear what the brother that's in 212 says to the brother that's in 305, because this, darling, this is what he says to the man verbatim. He says to him, "Mother?" He says to him, "Well, Mother, I'll tell you—Mother, the woman, I took her up to the roof for a little breath of air."
This is fate, boychik! This, what I have just told you, is fate and there is no two ways about it! So between your father and Gert Pinkowitz it is the same story—it's fate whichever direction you look at it from. And don't kid yourself, sonny boy, two individuals in our situation, it couldn't be avoided even if you sent for the police.
Okay, so at this point, I admit it to you, everything is still on hold in the dating stage. But even with Romeo, you had to have your dating stage before civilized human beings could let it get around to this, that, and the other thing. Believe me, your father is a patient man, Jerome—thirty-six hours, forty-eight hours, for a living doll like this creature, a person so svelte, your father could make an exception and wait to count his chickens when they come home to roost. But for some things, sweetheart, patience is already beside the point, patience would not make what wiser heads than your father call the big difference.
Sonny boy, Jerome darling, do me a favor and listen to me—because I your father am here to tell you that in certain departments not even the patience of a saint would do the trick, let alone Job and the whole Jewish religion. So call the G-men, Jerome. And if the G-men would not give you total satisfaction, then maybe you could get somewhere with the House of Representatives and the Food and Drug people. Darling, go get whatever court of law you have to get, just so long as you know I your father couldn't help himself, I'm sorry to have to sit here and tell you, Jerrychik, but enough is more than enough!
So first you will take your time and decide in your mind which one you want to go call for them to come get me, the district attorney in 603 or the district attorney in 305. And in the meanwhile, your father gives you his promise, he would not budge from this very spot and put up a fight when they break down the door and come in here with their handcuffs and their bludgeons. Jerome, don't give it a second thought, I am giving you every assurance, darling, your father will go quietly, he wouldn't even begin to make a fuss and beg for mercy nohow! But, cutie guy, if you are asking me to keep my mouth shut when it comes to the question of the envelope, from the bottom of my heart of hearts, I am sorry, Jerome—but this I could not promise you, not even if the sentence was life with hard labor!
CUTIE FELLOW, pussycat, stop to ask yourself—your father gets to the end of this letter, what comes next? Because I hope I don't have to tell you the answer is the envelope. So just like it was first the tragedy of the cat and next the tragedy of the mother, here is another one where it is a question of fate and you couldn't in all your life avoid it. Sonny boy, darling Jerome, you leave off the zip code and they don't deliver, do they? So now ask yourself, Jerrychik, how much leeway do you think your father gets, could he leave off, do you think, two-thirds maybe of a human being's whole name?
No, he couldn't.
But also could your father write it any different from how your father has been writing it lo these many years and years?
Darling, this is a question which you do not need your father for him to answer for you in words of one syllable. Because in so many words of one syllable, pussycat, I hope and pray you heard the answer your father just gave you, because the answer is forget it, he couldn't!
Precious person, just so you know in advance that I your father tried to give this question every last ounce of consideration. But meanwhile, Jerome, the answer is please, as God is my witness, forget it with this J.D.! Because even if they made a law, not on a bet could your father ever do it! You hear me, darling? Not even if the Secret Service took the case and came in here with all of their badges and machine guns, the answer is still N-O!
Jerrychik, your father, it's no news to you, is an old man. But whatever the future should hold, he could not be more thrilled than for him to spend every last minute of it in chains and no visiting days than for him to go along with you on what you did up there in 603 to the wonderful name your mother and father gave you, please God the woman should rest in peace and never know from this scandal!
Listen, kiddo, you could go to Woolworth's and you could buy thumbtacks. Darling, you could even go buy carpet tacks instead if this happens to be your particular private preference. So go ahead and buy whichever variety that it pleases you to and come stick every single one of them in me in my elbows. Okay, so if the elbows do not interest you, sweetheart, I will give you a choice, you can come choose the kneecaps instead. So choose the kneecaps, Jerome, if this is what you have to choose! Believe me, if this is what you decide in your mind, then this is what you decide in your mind—then kneecaps. Because your father would not for two seconds stand in your way even if you begged him to deprive you! Tell me, boychik, are you getting the picture? Because the picture is that this is the picture, Jerome—in every last department I your father am only too happy and glad to go along with you, but this J.D. thing which you did to your name, this your father so long as he lives could never get used to! This thing here, cutie fella, is where your father has to draw the line!
I'm sorry, sweetheart, but J.D. I couldn't go along with, even if they came in here with their badges and handcuffs and shot me down like a dog. Because by me, darling, because by your father, darling, the name you were born with, the name God gave you, you could go ahead and ask anyone, they will tell you it is like a symphony by Shakespeare to the most discriminating of ears. I promise you, sonny boy, you could go to the ends of the earth and you could still not improve upon it even if you went and begged on bended knee!
Just to listen to it!
So are you listening?
Jerome David.
Jerome David.
Now tell me, I ask you, is this not the last word when it comes to the name of a human being?
But a thing like J.D., Jerome, since when is a thing like J.D. even a figment of a name?
Cutie guy, you want to kill your father with this thing of J.D., then go ahead and kill me with it. But meanwhile do not ask me to write it on the envelope. Because if this is what you are asking of me, darling, then let me be the first one to tell you, sweetheart, you are asking your father for what your father will not give!
STOP TO THINK, pussycat. Promise me you will not excite yourself and that you will stop to think for all of two seconds. So first of all, answer me the following question. There is or there isn't a thoroughfare in the Bronx called Jerome? As thoroughfares go, tell me, babydoll, it is not one which down through the ages is a thoroughfare which is famous throughout the world and respected? So is this a simple question or is this a simple question? And does a person have to be a genius for them to think of a simple answer? Sonny boy, please take my word for it, when the city fathers sat themselves down to pick a name, they did not sit there and say to themselves, "So let's pick a shtunky name for this famous and respected throughfare." Okay, so I admit it to you, so maybe it was the borough fathers which sat themselves down. It's still the same principle! Believe me, darling, right here in the Sunshine State, where I your father bring you High Holy Day greetings from, on Lincoln Avenue they got right here, I promise you, a Jerome Florists. On Lincoln Avenue, darling. So am I talking about a first-class thoroughfare? Come look for yourself, as big as life, a top throughfare and a corner location, Jerome Florists, as I live and breathe!
But listen, cutie creature, a father does not know a son? I need all of a sudden a mind reader for them to tell me what is in my sonny boy's thoughts? So drag me out into the streets because I as your father happen to know the thinking of my own child. Tell them to come put your father on bread and water on death row because he happens to be an expert on the question of
his sonny boy's brain. Meanwhile, you still cannot change the rule which says it takes a father to know a son. Jerome, darling, they could come cut off both my arms. They could come chop me up in little pieces. But I as your father am here to tell you, cutie guy, a father knows a son!
Guess what, darling.
Are you listening to me, Jerome?
Because to the fathers of this world, a son is what is eating your heart out! But don't think I don't know I should learn to keep my mouth shut. Believe me, boychik, they should come cut your father's throat from ear to ear until the man learns to bite his tongue. So tell your father if he could not quote you the exact phraseology of his sonny boy's thinking word for bitter word. Boychik, tell the truth, would it be verbatim or would it be verbatim? Listen, cutie guy, don't tell me the answer because I know the answer. And you know why, Jerome? Because a father knows a son, Jerome! And you know what else, darling? Let your father tell you what else, darling. The more brilliant the brain of the child, the more you cannot please this child—this is what your father knows!
Oh, but you really got a lot to complain about, Jerome—a father which gave you such a gorgeous name for yourself and then had the gall to write it down on an envelope instead of write on something which it would make him heartsick to even whisper in a closet to himself. Believe me, your father never saw a sonny boy with more to complain about. But don't kid yourself, darling, it's no picnic for me neither, this subject, but so long as it just so happens to be the topic at the moment on the table at the moment, pardon me if your father goes ahead and mentions a few comparisons. Like take, for instance, a certain Mrs. Roth who lives in the building. So tell me, darling, does this particular Mrs. Roth have a relative who is a Philip or is a P.? Or look instead at the Mailer people who got such a nice oceanview on 12. Ask yourself, Jerome, does this family have a second cousin named N. or a second cousin named Norman? The Malamuds on 6, a one-bedroom facing front? So are we talking in this case about a Bernard, are you telling me, or a B.?
Please God, darling, you stopped and took a good look at these questions I just asked you, and answered each and every one of them from the bottom of your heart of hearts. But now we come to your father, Jerome. Do you appreciate what I am saying to you, Jerome, that now we come to your own flesh and blood? Who happens also to be a resident in this building! Who happens also to be a person who has to live with these people! Who happens also to be a human being who has to answer to these animals! And what, pray tell, is the question?
Jerome, the question is, "J.D., Mr. Ess—what, please be so kind as to elucidate, is a J.D.?"
Cutie guy, pay attention—down here in 305 a Saul they heard of, a Philip they heard of, a Norman they heard of, plus ditto, a Bernard! But since when did somebody anywhere in 305 ever hear of a J.D., pray tell? Stop to think, boychik, and tell me when they did. Because in this building this is the question which I your father have to answer to these animals morning, noon, and night! And you know for how many years now? Day in and day out, darling, are you or are you not counting for how many years?
THIS IS WHY I say to you, Jerome, thank God for Gert Pinkowitz. This is why I your father have to say to you thank God for the heartache this woman has got for herself with her own child. Because for your father it is a lesson to see that there are those in the world that got worse than even your father got—even if I wouldn't wish it on my own worst enemy. Because twenty-four hours, Jerome, the woman is in the building only twenty-four hours, and already the gang of them—animals, animals—found better to talk about than morning, noon, and night what is it, what is it, the name of J.D.? But believe me, Jerome, I your father do not wish the woman ill. For Gert Pinkowitz, your father has got nothing in his heart but hearts and flowers. It's just that as a human being I couldn't take it no more—J.D. this and J.D. that, the whole building could not leave your father for one instant in an instant's peace not once! And besides, darling, svelte as Gert Pinkowitz is, the woman, let me tell you, the woman is made of iron.
Of iron, boychik, of iron!
Listen, Jerome, forget Gert Pinkowitz for all of two seconds. Because your father now requires of you, please God, your utmost attention. Cutie fellow, can you give your father please your very utmost? Because it is time for I your father to go down on my hands and knees to you again for me to beg you for you to please reconsider. So are you listening as regards to the subject, Jerome, concerning the question again of reconsideration again?
Jerome, listen to me, where does your father live, which building? Since years and years ago when your father first picked up and moved down here, has he ever for one instant ever resided in a different residential? All right, so tell me, sweetheart, so what would you call this place—a residential like any other residential?
Jerome, don't make me have to remind you.
Sweetheart, we are talking the Seavue Spa Oceanfront Garden Arms and Apartments! So do you need reminding which is your father's residential? Because for how many years now have I been telling you, Jerome? But do you ever listen? Other children listen, Jerome. The Bellow kid, their Saul, he listens. Philip listens, Norman listens—and for your information, so does Bernard! Believe me, Jerome, everybody in here, they got a kid which they can count on to listen—the Krantzes do and so do the Sheldons and the Friedmans and the Elkins and the Wallaces and the Segals and the Wests and the Wallants and the Nemerovs and the Halberstams! And notice that I your father am not even mentioning the Robbins family and their Harold and the Potoks and their Chaim! You think the Wouks don't have a Herman which listens?
The Uris people, their Leon listens.
You heard of the Brodkeys, the Adlers? So tell me, the one's got a boy and the other's got a girl which don't listen?
The Kordas got a Michael, and he listens!
The Apples with their Max, the Michaels people with their Leonard, the Stones with their Irving—every last one of these children, Jerome, is a child which listens!
And did I even get to the Markfields and the Richlers and the Liebowitzes? Ozick, you think this is a girl which does not listen? So answer me—is the child a Cynthia or is she a C.? The Charyns, you heard of the Charyns? So them too, them too, they also got a child which listens—and, pay attention, Jerome, the boy, his name is Jerome and not no J. into the bargain!
Sweetheart, did I even begin to scratch the surface yet as to who's who among the who's who down here in the Seavue Spa Oceanfront Garden Arms and Apartments? But answer me, Jerrychik, is there one single solitary one of these animals which don't have like your father a relative in the literature industry? And, darling, exclusive of the exception of your father and of Mrs. Pinkowitz, tell me, pussycat, if this relative in the family is not a kid which doesn't take to heart what you say to him and listen! Because in the whole building, they every last one of them got what to listen to them—all except your father and Gert Pinkowitz, all except her with her Thomas and me with my J.D., the two big geniuses which would not for one minute, even if you got down on bended knee to them, listen! And look at who your father didn't even discuss yet—not to mention the Millers and the Simons and the Ephrons and the Kosinskis! Do the Paleys got a Grace? Do the Hellers got a Joseph? So tell me, Jerome, the Sontags, they don't got a Susan? So pay attention, are these or aren't these children which listen?—the Olsens with their Tillie, the Blooms with their Harold, the Golds with their Herbert, and the Wieseltier family, didn't I remark to you a wonderful, sweet-natured boy that they got themselves, a lovely Leon? But what else do all of these individuals have which your own personal father don't! Because I will answer you in words of one syllable, Jerome. Because the answer is a child which listens!
JEROME, DARLING, your father is hoarse from sitting here screaming. Even though your father is writing and not talking, Jerome, I promise you, your father feels like he is getting a virus in his throat from sitting here and against his better judgment talking turkey to you. So you will call the Justice Department, I'm sorry, your father, in a manner of speaki
ng, dares to shout. But, pussycat, darling creature, to make himself heard with you, who could go ahead and talk like a civilized individual in a civilized voice? Darling, sonny darling, lean close, open your ears up wide, your father couldn't speak no more in anything above a whisper, this is how much the man is suffering from the damage he had to do on your behalf to his larnyx.
Okay, so tell me, so who is in the penthouse here when it used to be your father who was up there in it? And you know the answer why? Because they got a child which listens! And you know what, Jerome? The boy's name is not as a professional person no S. Bellow neither! Oh, but far be it for me your father to pass comment. After all, your father is only your father, Jerome. He is only the person which has to live here with these animals and has to answer to them. Your father is only the person which has to face these big shots day in and day out because in his particular area code you don't get away with saying to the whole wide world, "Do me a favor and go take a hike." Jerrychik, sweetie boy, is it asking too much of you for you to look into your heart of hearts and try to see what is going on down here from your father's side of the standpoint? I am asking for you to tell me, sweetie boy, does your father live in the Seavue Spa Oceanfront Garden Arms and Apartments or do I live in the woods in a cave? And as to this particular residential, Jerome, we are talking from one floor to the next what? Are we talking ordinary people which got kids in cloaks and suits, or are we talking big shots, animals, k-nockers, shtarkers—namely your individuals which got kids in books? The works, Jerome—the cream of the crop of the literature industry, you got their families right here in residence here right here in this very building, Jerome, and I want to remind you that it is I your father and not you the brilliant hermit genius which is the human being which has to live with them! So did you never stop to think, "For my father, considering that he is a person of his years and age, I, Jerome David, his son which he would lay down his life for, am going to ask myself what is it like to live in a setup where everybody has got somebody who happens to be active in, you know, in the literature industry"? Darling, your father will put two and two together for you and will answer you with one word for you. So do you want to hear what this one word is? Because it is C-O-M-P-A-R-I-S-O-N-S. Comparisons, Jerome! So you heard of comparisons, Jerome? Darling, you heard of when you live with animals which like k-nockers and like shtarkers got nothing better for them to do all day long but to D-R-A-W comparisons until your father could sit down and vomit from them? So you are not a genius in your own right and I got to draw for you a diagram when it comes to human beings drawing comparisons? You need me to draw for you Saul this and Saul that, Phillie this and Phillie that, not to mention Leon, Leon, Leon until your father's got it coming out of both ears and the man could not yet take it no more? Because you could live to be a thousand, Jerome, you still would not see no letup! And meanwhile does your father ever get to get even a word in? Does the man ever once—once!—ever hear Jerome this and Jerome that the way he used to hear it in the old days when guess who lived up there like a big shot himself in the penthouse? But God forbid the facts of life should be brought to your attention, darling. God forbid your father's darling boy should have to hear one peep regarding the tragic situation which his own flesh and blood happens to have to live here with. So stick a spear in me and break it off in my ribs because your father has the nerve to plead with you for your attention when it is the facts of life which is the topic that is on the table. Boychik, you know what it means where it says the facts of life? It means somebody has to live with them! So just for argument's sake, darling, between the two of us, when it comes to living with them guess which one of us between us got elected! Cutie boy, could you guess?
