Brief Interviews With Hideous Men: Stories

by David Foster Wallace

  ADULT WORLD (II)

  PART: 4

  FORMAT: SCHEMA

  TITLE: ONE FLESH

  ‘As blindingly sudden and dramatic as any question about any man’s sexual imagination is going to appear, it was not the question itself which caused Jeni Roberts’ epiphany and rapid maturation, but what she found herself gazing at as she asked it.’

  —PT. 4 epigraph, in same stilted mode as ‘Adult World (I)’ [→ highlights format change from dramatic/stochastic to schematic/ordered]

  1a. Question Jeni Roberts asks is whether Former Lover had indeed in their past relationship ever fantasized about other women during lovemaking w/ her.

  1a(1) Inserted at beginning of question is participial phrase ‘After apologizing for how irrational and inappropriate it might sound after all this time…’

  1b. At some point during J.’s question, J. follows F.L.’s gaze out fast-food window & sees husband’s special vanity license plate among vehicles in Adult World lot: → epiphany. Epiph unfolds more or less independently as facially asymmetric F.L. responds to J.’s question.

  1c. Flat narr description of J.’s sudden pallor & inability to hold decaf steady as J. undergoes sddn blndng realization that hsbnd is a Secret Compulsive Masturbator & that insomnia/yen is cover for secret trips to Adult World to purchase/view/masturbate self raw to XXX films & images & that suspicions of hsbnd’s ambivalence about ‘sexlife together’ have in fact been prescient intuitions & that hsbnd has clearly been suffering from inner deficits/psychic pain of which J.’s own self-conscious anxieties have kept her from having any real idea [point of view (1c) all objective, exterior desc only].

  2a. Meanwhile F.L. is answering J.’s orig question in vehement neg, tears appearing in eye: holy shit no, god, no, no, never, had loved her always, was never as fully ‘there’ as when he & J. were making love [if in J.’s p.o.v., insert ‘together’ after ‘love’].

  2a(1) At emotional height of dialogue, tears streaming down 1⁄2 face, F.L. confesses/declares that he still loves J., has all this time, 5 yrs, in fact sometimes still thinks of J. while making love to his current fiancée, which causes him to feel guilty (i.e. ‘like I’m not really there’) drng sex w/ fiancée. [Direct transcription of F.L.’s whole answer/confession → emotional focus of scene is off J. while J. undergoes trauma of sddnly realizing hsbnd is Secret Compulsive Masturbator → avoids nasty problem of trying to convey epiphany in narr expo.]

  2b. Coincidence [N.B.: too heavy?]: F.L. confesses that he also still sometimes secretly masturbates to memories of former lovemaking w/ J., sometimes to point of making himself raw/sore. [→ F.L.’s ‘confession’ here both reinforcing J.’s epiph w/r/t male fantasy & providing her w/ much-needed injection of sexual esteem (i.e. it ‘wasn’t her fault’). [N.B. re Theme: implicit sadness of F.L. making soul-rending confession of love while J. is 1⁄2-distracted by trauma of (1b)/(1c)’s epiph; i.e. = further networks of misconnection, emotional asymmetry.]]

  2b(1) Tone of F.L.’s confession trmndsly moving & high-affect, & J. (even tho traumatized w/r/t (1b)/(1c)’s shattering epiphany) never for one nanosec doubts the truth of what F.L. says; feels she ‘really did know this man’ & c.

  2b(1a) Narr [not J.] notes sudden appearance of red & demonic-looking gleam in hypertrophic iris of F.L.’s left [‘bad’?] eye, which could be either trick of light or genuine demonic gleam [= p.o.v. shift/ narr intrusion].

  2c. Mnwhile F.L., interpreting J.’s pallor & digital palsy as requital/positive response to his declarations of enduring love, begs her to leave hsbnd for him, or alternatively (‘at least’) to proceed now to Holiday Inn just down the expressway & spend rest of afternoon making passionate love [→ w/ dmnc sinistral gleam & c.].

  2d. J. (still gone 100% pale à la Dostoevsky’s Nastasya F.) abruptly acquiesces w/r/t adulterous Holiday Inn interlude [tone flat = ‘“Mm, OK,” she said.’]. F.L. buses tray w/ uneaten entrée & empty cup & creamers & c., follows J. out into fast-food pkng lot. J. waits in Accord while F.L. attempts to sneak own Ford Probe [N.B.: too heavy?] out of M.M. Hyundai lot w/o Messerly or sales reps seeing him leave early on high-pressure end-of-month sales day.

  2d(1) J.’s precise mtvation for acquiescing to Holiday Inn interlude left opaque [→ entails that (2d) is in p.o.v. of F.L. only]. Comic dscrptn of F.L. crawling along row of vehicles on hands & knees in attempt to slip into Probe unseen from M.M. showroom has undercurrent of creepiness [→ congruence w/ subthemes of secrecy, creepy incongruity, opaque shame].

  3a. J.’s Accord fllws F.L.’s Probe down xprsway toward Hday Inn. Sudden sun-shower forces J. to activate wipers.

  3b. F.L. turns into Hday Inn lot, expects to see J.’s Accord turn in behind him. Accord does not turn in, continues down xprsway. [Abrupt p.o.v. change →] J., driving across town toward home, imagines F.L. leaping out of Probe & running dsprtly across Hday Inn lot in downpour to stand at roaring edge of xprsway & watch Accord recede, gradually disappearing in traffic. J. imagines F.L.’s wet/forlorn/asymm image dwndlng in rear-view mirror.

  3c. Nearly home, J. finds herself weeping for F.L. & F.L.’s dwndlng image instead of for self. Weeps for hsbnd, ‘… how lonely his secrets must make him’ [p.o.v.?]. Notes this & speculates on significance of ‘weeping for’ [ = ‘on behalf of’?] men. Bgning (3c), J.’s thoughts & spclations evince new sophistication/comprehension/maturity. Pulls into home’s driveway feeling ‘[…] queerly exultant.’

  3d. Narr intrusion, expo on Jeni Roberts [same flat & pedantic tone as ¶s 3, 4 of ‘A.W.(I)’ PT. 3]: While following F.L.’s teal/aqua Probe down xprsway, J. hadn’t ‘changed mind’ about having secret adulterous sex w/ F.L., rather merely ‘… realized it was unnecessary.’ Understands that she has had life-changing epiphany, has ‘… bec[o]me a woman as well as a wife’ & c. & c.

  3d(1) J. hereafter referred to by narr as ‘Ms. Jeni Orzolek Roberts’; hsbnd referred to as ‘the Secret Compulsive Masturbator.’

  4a(I) Epiloguous expo on J.O.R. → extension of narrative arc: ‘Ms. Jeni Orzolek Roberts, from that day forward, kept the memory of her lover’s desperate, 1⁄2-wet face faithfully shaped within her’ & c. Realizes hsbnd has ‘interior deficits’ that ‘… ha[ve] nothing to do with her as a wife[/woman]’ & c. Survives this aftershock of epiphany, + various other standard aftershocks. [Possible mentn of psychotherapy, but now in upbeat terms: psychth now ‘freely chosen’ rather than ‘straw dsprtly clutched at.’] J.O.R. establishes separate investment portfolio w/ substantial positions in gold futures & large-cap mining stock. Quits smoking w/ help of transdermal patches. Realizes/gradually accepts that hsbnd loves his secret loneliness & ‘interior deficits’ more than he loves[/is able to love] her; accepts her ‘unalterable powerlessness’ over hsbnd’s secret cmplsions [possible mention of esoteric Support Group for spouses of S.C.M.’s—any such thing? ‘MastAnon’? ‘Co-Jack’? (N.B.: avoid easy gags)]. Realizes that true wellsprings of love, security, gratification must originate within self * ; and w/ this realization, J.O.R. joins rest of adult hmn race, no longer ‘full of herself’/‘immature’/‘irrational’/‘young.’

  4a(II) Marriage now enters new, more adult phase [‘honeymoon over’ an easy gag?]. Never once in sbsqnt yrs of marriage do J.O.R. & hsbnd discuss his S.C.M. or interior pain/loneliness/‘deficits’ [N.B.: hammer home fiduciary pun]. J.O.R. doesn’t know whether hsbnd even suspects she knows about his S.C.M. or Discover charges at Adult World; she finds she does not care. J.O.R. reflects w/ amused irony on new ‘significance’ of persistent adlscnt memory of rest-stop graffito. Hsbnd[/‘the S.C.M.’] continues to arise & leave master bdrm in wee hrs; sometimes J.O.R. hears his car start as she ‘… stirs only slightly and returns at once to sleep’ & c. Ceases worrying w/r/t whether hsbnd enjoys ‘sexlife’ w/ her; continues to love [‘ ’?] hsbnd even tho she no longer believes he’s ‘wonderful’ [/‘attentive’?] lvmking partner. Sex between them finds its own level; by 5th yr it’s appr every 2 weeks. Their sex now characterized as ‘nice’—
less intense but also less scary [/‘lonely’]. J.O.R. ceases to search hsbnd’s face drng sex [→ metaphor: Theme → eyes closed = ‘eyes open’].

  4a(II(1)) Taking ‘authentic responsibility for self,’ J.O.R. ‘… gradually begins exploring masturbation as a wellspring of personal pleasure’ & c. Revisits Adult Wld svrl times; becomes almost a rglr. Purchases 2nd dildo [N.B.: ‘dildo’ now not captlzd], then ‘Penetrator!!®’ dildo w/ vibrator, later ‘Pink Pistollero® Pistol-Grip Massager,’ finally ‘Scarlet Garden MX-1000® Vibrator with Clitoral Suction and Fully Electrified 12 Inch Cervical Stimulator’ [‘$179.99 retail’]. Narr inserts that J.O.R.’s new dresser/vanity ensemble contains no sachet drawer. [Ironies: J.O.R.’s new hi-tech mastrbtory appliances are (a) manufactured in Asia & (b) displayed on Adult Wld wall labeled MARITAL AIDS (2 hvy/obvious?).] By marriage’s 6th yr, hsbnd frqntly away on ‘emergency trips to the Pacific Rim’; J.O.R. mastrbting almost daily.

  4a(II(1a)) Narr intr, expo: J.O.R.’s most frequent/pleasurable mastrbtion fantasy in 6th yr of marriage = a faceless, hypertrophic male figure who loves but cannot have J.O.R. spurns all other living women & chooses instead to mastrbte daily to fantasies of lvmking w/ J.O.R.

  4a(III) Concl ¶: 7th, 8th yr: Hsbnd mastrbtes secretly, J.O.R. openly. Their now-bimonthly sex is ‘… both a submission to and celebration of certain freely embraced realities.’ Neither appears to mind. Narr: binding them now is that deep & unspoken complicity that in adult marriage is covenant/love → ‘They were now truly married, cleaved, ** one flesh, [a union that] afforded Jeni O. Roberts a cool, steady joy….’

  4b. Concl [embed]: ‘… were ready thus to begin, in a calm and mutually respectful way, to discuss having children [together].’

  THE DEVIL IS A BUSY MAN

  Three weeks ago, I did a nice thing for someone. I can not say more than this, or it will empty what I did of any of its true, ultimate value. I can only say: a nice thing. In a general context, it involved money. It was not a matter of out and out “giving money” to someone. But it was close. It was more classifiable as “diverting” money to someone in “need.” For me, this is as specific as I can be.

  It was two weeks, six days, ago that the nice thing I did occurred. I can also mention that I was out of town—meaning, in other words, I was not where I live. Explaining why I was out of town, or where I was, or what the overall situation that was going on was, however, unfortunately, would endanger the value of what I did further. Thus, I was explicit with the lady that the person who would receive the money was to in no way know who had diverted it to them. Steps were explicitly taken so that my namelessness was structured into the arrangement which led to the diversion of the money. (Although the money was, technically, not mine, the secretive arrangement by which I diverted it was properly legal. This may lead one to wonder in what way the money was not “mine,” but, unfortunately, I am unable to explain in detail. It is, however, true.) This is the reason. A lack of namelessness on my part would destroy the ultimate value of the nice act. Meaning, it would infect the “motivation” for my nice gesture—meaning, in other words, that part of my motivation for it would be, not generosity, but desiring gratitude, affection, and approval towards me to result. Despairingly, this selfish motive would empty the nice gesture of any ultimate value, and cause me to once again fail in my efforts to be classifiable as a nice or “good” person.

  Thus, I was very intransigent about the secrecy of my own name in the arrangement, and the lady, who was the only other person with any knowing part in the arrangement (she, because of her job, could be classified as “the instrument” of the diversion of the money) whatsoever, acquiesced, to the best of my knowledge, in full to this.

  Two weeks, five days, later, one of the people I had done the nice thing for (the generous diversion of funds was to two people—more specifically, a common law married couple—but only one of them called) called, and said, “hello,” and that did I, by any possible chance, know anything about who was responsible for ________________, because he just wanted to tell that person, “thank you!,” and what a God-send this _______ dollars that came, seemingly, out of nowhere from the ___________________________ was, etc.

  Instantly, having cautiously rehearsed for such a possibility at great lengths, already, I said, coolly, and without emotion, “no,” and that they were barking completely up the wrong tree for any knowledge on my part. Internally, however, I was almost dying with temptation. As everyone is well aware, it is so difficult to do something nice for someone and not want them, desperately, to know that the identity of the individual who did it for them was you, and to feel grateful and approving towards you, and to tell myriads of other people what you “did” for them, so that you can be widely acknowledged as a good person. Like the forces of darkness, evil, and hopelessness in the world at large itself, the temptation of this frequently can overwhelm resistance.

  Therefore, impulsively, during the grateful, but inquisitive, call, unprescient of any danger, I said, after saying, very coolly, “no,” and “the wrong tree,” that, although I had no knowledge, I could well imagine that whoever, in fact, was, mysteriously responsible for ____________________ would be enthusiastic to know how the needed money, which they had received, was going to be utilized—meaning, for example, would they now plan to finally acquire health insurance for their new-born baby, or service the consumer debt in which they were deeply mired, or etc.?

  My uttering this, however, was, in a fatal instant, interpreted by the person as an indirect hint from me that I was, despite my prior denials, indeed, the individual responsible for the generous, nice act, and he, throughout the remainder of the call, became lavish in his details on how the money would be applied to their specific needs, underlining what a God-send it was, with the tone of his voice’s emotion transmitting both gratitude, approval, and something else (more specifically, something almost hostile, or embarrassed, or both, yet I can not describe the specific tone which brought this emotion to my attention adequately). This flood of emotion, on his part, caused me, sickeningly, too late, to realize, that what I had just done, during the call, was to not only let him know that I was the individual who was responsible for the generous gesture, but to make me do so in a subtle, sly manner that appeared to be, insinuationally, euphemistic, meaning, employing the euphemism: “whoever was responsible for ____________________,” which, combined together with the interest I revealed in the money’s “uses” by them, could fool no one about its implying of me as ultimately responsible, and had the effect, insidiously, of insinuating that, not only was I the one who had done such a generous, nice thing, but also, that I was so “nice”—meaning, in other words, “modest,” “unselfish,” or, “untempted by a desire for their gratitude”—a person, that I did not even want them to know that I was who was responsible. And I had, despairingly, in addition, given off these insinuations so “slyly,” that not even I, until afterward—meaning, after the call was over—, knew what I had done. Thus, I showed an unconscious and, seemingly, natural, automatic ability to both deceive myself and other people, which, on the “motivational level,” not only completely emptied the generous thing I tried to do of any true value, and caused me to fail, again, in my attempts to sincerely be what someone would classify as truly a “nice” or “good” person, but, despairingly, cast me in a light to myself which could only be classified as “dark,” “evil,” or “beyond hope of ever sincerely becoming good.”

  CHURCH NOT MADE WITH HANDS

  (for E. Shofstahl, 1977–1987)

  ART

  Drawn lids one screen of skin, dreampaintings move across Day’s colored dark. Tonight, in a lapse unfluttered by time, he travels what seems to be back. Shrinking, smoother, loses his belly and faint acne scars. Bird-boned gangle; bowl haircut and cup-handle ears; skin sucks hair, nose recedes into face; he swaddles in his pants and then curls, pink and mute and smaller until he feels himself split into something that wriggles and something that spins. Nothing str
etches tight across everything else. A black point rotates. The point breaks open, jagged. His soul sails toward one color.

  Birds, gray light. Day opens one eye. He is lying half off the bed Sarah breathes in. He sees the windows parallelograms, from the angle.

  Day stands at a square window with a cup of something hot. A dead Cezanne does this August sunrise in any-angled smears of clouded red, a blue that darkles. A Berkshire’s shadow retreats toward one blunt nipple: fire.

  Sarah comes awake at the slightest touch. They lie open-eyed and silent, brightening under a sheet. Doves work the morning, sound from the belly. The sheet’s printed pattern fades from Sarah’s skin.

  Sarah pins her hair for morning mass. Day packs another case for Esther. Dresses himself. He fails to find a shoe. On the big bed’s edge, one shoe on, he watches cotton dust rotate through the butteryellow columns of a morning that gets later.

  BLACK ART

  That day he buys them a janitor’s broom. He sweeps rainwater off the tarp over Sarah’s pool.