Collected Fictions

by Gordon Lish

  Only even worse than you, Jerome.

  Worse!

  Believe me, worse isn't even the half of it. Because with you, darling, maybe there is a certain degree of rhyme or reason to it. But with the Pinkowitz kid? With him we are talking a whole different ball game altogether. With him we are talking a whole different picture!

  Myself, boychik, when I heard it, when the woman is on the premises only an hour already, you could have blown your father over with a feather. The woman does not even have one stick of furniture moved in yet! Do you hear me, Jerome? Not one stick! But meanwhile this is how heartsick she is—the woman is so heartsick she's got to say to the moving man she is sorry but not for another instant could she stand the strain and the aggravation, would he please leave everything sit for a while while she goes and sees who her new neighbor is and gets this tragedy off her chest. And do you know why, darling? Because if the woman does not talk to somebody in the next two seconds, then she is going to have to take a pill.

  Maybe even the whole bottle already!

  JEROME, I know I don't have to draw you a diagram to explain to you that it is I your father who is the individual next door. This is how small the world is, Jerome—you turn around and the next thing you know you are sitting there, the person next door! Sweetie guy, you could go ahead and send hoodlums. They could bring brass knuckles down here to get me with, but your father wants you to know one thing. In this world, Jerrychik, even if you couldn't believe it, there are worse things than what you did to your name when you made it J.D. I promise you, boychik, you go listen to Gert Pinkowitz with her Thomas, you will hear and you will hear plenty—a child which comes into this world with such a perfect name and then has the unmitigated gall to turn around and change it the instant they come along and say to the boy, "Pinkowitz—hey, Pinkowitz!—your name is Pinkowitz?"

  All right, so the child wanted to make a good impression, Jerome. So, darling, so your father will tell you what happens when all you can think of in the world is making a good impression. Because if you remember Goldbaum, sweetheart, then you'll know who your father is talking about when I tell you the man's son comes home one day with a blonde. A blonde, Jerome, as your father lives and breathes, the man's son comes home with a blonde! But meanwhile Goldbaum couldn't learn to live with it? And also his wife of forty-odd years, this individual couldn't learn to do likewise? So they make a meal, Jerome. Are you listening to me, darling? Mrs. Goldbaum, God love her, she makes a meal. And right off the bat to begin with the woman naturally puts soup on the table. And the blonde, Jerome, the blonde who only wants in her heart of hearts to make a good impression on the Goldbaums, Jerome, the blonde says to them, "Oh, God, is this soup wonderful, is this delicious soup, never in my life did I ever have such an exquisite bowl of soup!" This is what the girl says, Jerome. So are you listening? The blonde says, "This soup, such a wonderful soup, such a wonderful soup—so tell me, everybody, what is it, what is it?" Darling, Mrs. Goldbaum shouldn't answer the girl? Believe me, Jerome, Mrs. Goldbaum you never met maybe, but let me tell you this is a civilized person. So to make a long story short, she says to the blonde, "Matzo ball soup, we call it matzo ball soup." Darling, verbatim, this is how Mrs. Goldbaum answers. But the blonde, Jerome, are you remembering her? This blonde which in her heart of hearts only wants to make on these people a good impression? Because I want you to hear what the blonde says as a consequence of the woman has only in her heart of hearts the best of intentions. You're listening, sweetie boy? Because this blonde which I am referring to, and I am quoting to you, sweetheart, your father is quoting—she says, "Well, it sure turns out a lot better than it does when they only make it from the matzo's shoulder."

  Good impressions, Jerome—this alone is the aggravation which they give everybody, area code irregardless! But Mrs. Pinkowitz's Tommy, all the child can think of is how for him to make a good impression. And forget just a T. for Thomas. Worse, I'm telling you, Jerome! Worse by a long shot! Believe me, boychik, the sin you did to your name the instant your father's back was turned, it's nothing by comparison. Even the woman herself would tell you if you asked her. Because, don't kid yourself, I your father asked her, and Gert Pinkowitz stood there and answered me, "Solly, Solly, what your child did to you when he made it J.D., take my word for it as one parent to another, it was a blessing by comparison. A blessing, Solly, a blessing!"

  Cutie fellow, it should only fly from your father's two lips to God's two ears when I say to you in all honesty, "The nerve of some children!" But all right, so send bullies to knock me down and rob me of my last shred of happiness, but I your father, Jerome, am no stranger to what a child can do to the heart of a parent. So my tears should not go out to this woman who has got a Thomas just like I your father got a Jerome? Darling, the woman cannot even speak when she says to me, "Solly, sit down, sweetheart, because I want for you to be utterly prepared for when you sit and hear what's in the literature industry the shock of the century." Sonny boy, I am telling you they could have come in here and blown your father over with a feather when the woman told me what the woman told me. To take a gorgeous name like Pinkowitz and go get cute with it, what kind of a child is it which goes ahead and does a thing like this? So if the boy had to have two syllables, so what, pray tell, is so wrong with Pincus? But Pynchon, darling, Pynchon, sweetheart, this is a name which makes no sense to anybody in the building from every conceivable angle!

  So whoever heard of a name like Pynchon?

  Tell me, Jerome, this is a name for a serious person? Believe me, darling, your father is willing to learn. So there is an area code somewhere where with a name like this the people there would not all look at you sideways?

  So the child could not take Thomas and, just like my sonny boy himself, he couldn't go ahead and stick for himself maybe a little trim up there up on the top of it?

  THIS IS WHY I say to you, Jerome, you have to give comfort where comfort is due. But I promise you, boychik, in this case it's a pleasure, the woman is a living doll, so svelte it would break your heart. And meanwhile, I'm telling you, it's no trouble. I hear the creature crying both her eyes out, it's such an effort to run next door? So maybe this is where I was if you called last night and your father wasn't here to pick it up. So you called, darling? Tell me, you really went ahead and called? You know what, Jerome? I say you used the brains God gave you and you waited for when they knock the rates down and it would not cost you no arm and no leg for just for you to say hello to your father and also Happy High Holy Days!

  Tell me, sweetheart, did your father figure it out?

  So since when does a father not know a son?

  Don't worry, boychik, when all is said and done, a father knows, a father knows—even if he don't go knocking himself out to broadcast it to the whole building. But Merv, Jerome, Merv you promised me you'll get busy and take care of it. Because I'll tell you something, darling. Can your father let you in on a big secret? A promise is a promise, yes? Because you remember when years and years ago you sat yourself down and you wrote about this woman who was so fat and like all day long this creature sits on her porch and listens to the radio? Darling, I'm going back years now, but tell me, do you remember? So because this creature was so lonely and also dying and so forth, it was you yourself which said, please God, the people on the radio should all get together and do for her their very utmost, since what's the woman got in the whole wide world for herself except the people which are, you know, which are talking on the radio? Sweetheart, sonny boy, I don't have to tell you it was you yourself which said this with your own two lips. So don't make a federal case, Jerome—is it such a big difference that I your father got a television? It's the same principle, Jerome, it's the same principle! Please, darling, for your father, and so please God you would not have to contradict yourself, be a sport and go on Merv and sit there and talk to the man like an adult. And if it is so important to you that it has to be a fat woman which is listening, and if your own father's own personal suffering is
not sufficient for you, Jerome, then be a good boy and do it for my Gert, darling, do it for this adorable person, Mrs. Pinkowitz!

  So all right, so who is not so svelte, so sue me!

  So your father told a little fib.

  So send G-men and tear his tongue out!

  The creature is dieting, Jerome. Did you hear me? Dieting! So between you and me, as of this date and time did she actually get anywhere with it yet? So svelte was an exaggeration, so svelte was poetic license, so no big deal, okay?

  I'm telling you, darling, this woman is so fat it would break your heart just for you to look at her! Hey, you know what I can't wait to say? Because all I can't wait to say is thank God 305 is Gert's area code and you'll never have to notice!

  Boychik, are you listening to me?

  So you're already the most wonderful son in the whole wide world, no arguments, your father admits it, when was there ever a better boy? So now go be an angel on top of it, Jerome! For a woman who is fat and who is in agony and who is a saint if I your father ever saw one, tell Merv here you come for Gert Pinkowitz, plus for each and every area code from coast to shining coast.

  Love and kisses

  from your adoring father,

  and also Happy High Holidays!

  P.S. Did I tell you about Goldbaum is passing away? The same Goldbaum which went and took the cruise on the slave ship, Jerome, the man which has the son which got married to the blonde? So Goldbaum is on his deathbed and it's good-bye and good luck—so your father didn't tell you already? But all right, Goldbaum is an old man, he's got no alibis, he's got no complaints, that's it and that's it, let's get it over with. So did I tell you this, Jerome? Because I want you with your own two ears to hear what happens next when the man says to his son which is sitting with him like with the deathwatch with him, "Kiddo, you have been a wonderful boy to me, from you as a child in my whole life your father has never himself had nothing but the utmost joyousness, so good-bye and good luck and here personally is a last loving kiss." And the boy, Jerome, he says to Goldbaum, "Well, you have been great, just great, and, no kidding, we'll miss you a lot." And Goldbaum answers him, he says to his son, "Forget it, kiddo, when that's it, that's it, it's time to call it quits." So this is when the man shuts his eyes and lays back down again to show everybody forget it he is ready to pass away. But then the next thing you know Goldbaum opens up his eyes and he like gives the air these little tiny sniffs.

  Are you paying attention, Jerome? The man is sitting up and with his nose up in the air the man is going like this, darling—he's going sniff, sniff, sniff. So then he says, "Tell me, sweetheart, is Mama in the kitchen?" And the boy answers him, the boy says to Goldbaum, "Mama is in the kitchen. Mama is making chopped liver in the kitchen."

  Do you hear this, Jerome? "Mama is in the kitchen. Mama is making chopped liver in the kitchen." So this is when Goldbaum says to his son, "Look, darling, you will be a sweetheart and you will go into the kitchen and for your father who is passing away you will come back here with a little taste for me, and please God, I only got a couple of seconds, so you'll hurry."

  Jerome, did you hear each and every word of this? What Goldbaum says to his son, you really honestly heard? Because I want for you to hear how the son answers the man, Jerome! Even if you could not believe it with your own two ears, I your father want you to hear!

  Because, as God is my judge, darling, the man's child says to the man, he says to him, "Daddy, I can't, Daddy—it's for after."

  Did you hear this, Jerome?

  "It's for after."

  With these very words the child answers the father!

  "It's for after."

  Jerome? Sweetie boy?

  So are you listening to me?

  There is no after!

  So God bless you and let this be a lesson to you and now go and do what your father says!

  [ENTITLED]

  —WHEN DID YOU FIRST MEET Gordon Lish?

  —Nineteen thirty-four. In Hewlett, which is a place which is about twenty miles outside of New York City.

  —Was there anything notable about him at the time? Did he strike you as in anywise out of the ordinary?

  —No, not anything I can think of. But the conditions were special. There was, he claims, a blizzard that day—the eleventh day of February, nineteen thirty-four. I know this seemed meaningful to the fellow, a sort of sign of sorts. For as long as I've known the man, he every so often speaks to what seems to him to be the significance of snowstorms in his life. You know, big snows showing up on his birthdays and the like.

  —He is fascinated with himself.

  —Oh, sure, but, you know—who isn't?

  —You kept in pretty close touch with Lish after that first meeting?

  —You bet. I thought he was tremendously good company, a placid sort and enormously harmless. Oh, he was easy to be with, all right. Not much on his mind, but what little there was he'd share with you, no hesitation, not the least of it. Besides, it was never a problem keeping track of him. I mean, he stayed close to home back in those days—few friends, few outings, a dreamer chiefly. Could sit for hours just staring. It was pleasant. To tell you the truth, it was a comfort just to keep an eye on him—restful, restorative. You know . . . certain persons give you certain feelings. Well, I liked him—I suppose this explains everything.

  —He confided in you?

  —Whatever was on his mind, sure. But as I've been trying to say, there wasn't much of it. He was . . . what did I say before—placid? He was like that—very placid, very passive—not much energy. Half-asleep, actually—sort of dozing.

  —Happy?

  —Oh, no question about it—the happiest!

  —But then things changed. So far as you could see, what? What specifically?

  —You mean the shift in him—from what he was in the old days to what he got to be as time wore on. Well, no telling. But I'm willing to give you my thoughts on this, which is that nothing changed in him exactly.

  —You mean, things changed around him? The world went from one thing to another?

  —No, no, not that. What I mean is that I don't think what happened to Lish was any different from what happens to anybody. I mean, it's not the world exactly—because the world just doesn't matter that much, if you know what I'm saying. Oh, heck, I'm getting all mixed up. Look, the thing is, it's got to do, I think, with time—with just the time and the time of it—witnessing, too much witnessing. Do you know what I mean, witnessing?

  —Witnessing too much of the world?

  —The other way around . . . the world witnessing too much of you. Or maybe time doing it. I don't know.

  —That doesn't make any sense.

  —Well, as I said, it's just my thoughts, is all.

  —But you've stayed with him—kept your eye on him at least—didn't, you know, turn a deaf ear.

  —No doubt about it. And why not? The man still interests me more than anybody else does. The thing of it is, I've put a lot into the thing, don't forget.

  —You see him every day?

  —I'd get pretty funny-feeling if I didn't.

  —Why so?

  —Oh, you know how it is—for each of us there's always going to be at least somebody it just does not feel right for us being out of touch with even for a minute.

  —But what if Lish took himself out of touch with you?

  —That's just what I worry about.

  —But what if he succeeds? What will happen if him and you, if that's it and that's it?

  —You know, that's the very thing I have been sitting here telling the man day in and day out. I say to him, "Gordon, the instant you look around and I am not here for you to have me looking back at you, that's the instant you are going to wish that you were never born."

  —And what does he say when this is what you say?

  —Him? He says, "It snowed the day I was born. There was a blizzard the day I was born. It was the eleventh of February, nineteen thirty-four. It snowed like that on my thir
teenth birthday, too. Both times, there were such big snows. Both times, there was so much snow."

  THE DEATH OF ME

  I WANTED TO BE AMAZING. I wanted to be so amazing. I had already been amazing up to a certain point. But I was tired of being at that point. I wanted to go past that point. I wanted to be more amazing than I had been up to that point. I wanted to do something which went beyond that point and which went beyond every other point and which people would look at and say that this was something which went beyond all other points and which no other boy would ever be able to go beyond, that I was the only boy who could, that I was the only one.

  I was going to a day camp which was called the Peninsula Athletes Day Camp and which at the end of the summer had an all-campers, all-parents, all-sports field day which was made up of five different field events, and all of the campers had to take part in all five of all of the five different field events, and I was the winner in all five of the five different field events, I was the winner in every single field event, I came in first place in every one of the five different field events—so that the head of the camp and the camp counselors and the other campers and the other mothers and the other fathers and my mother and my father all saw that I was the best camper in the Peninsula Athletes Day Camp, the best in the short run and the best in the long run and the best in the high jump and the best in the broad jump and the best in the event which the Peninsula Athletes Day Camp called the ball-throw, which was where you had to go up to a chalk line and then put your toe on the chalk line and not go over the chalk line and then go ahead and throw the ball as far as you could throw.