J R

by William Gaddis

  —What train.

  —This train the one we just, the four seventeen the one we . . .

  —Four seventeen what I just told you didn’t I?

  —Yes well yes but these tickets if you’d given them to me I . . .

  —Four seven God damn it Bast four seventeen what she told me wasn’t it? Told me get the God damned four seventeen give you these God damned tickets Bast need help andcouragement from any brazen throat? Got the four seventeen didn’t I? Gave you the God damned tickets didn’t I? All you stand here and complain?

  —No but what I meant was . . .

  —Go around tell everybody you need help andcouragement break their God damned neck for you try to set their cracker on fire any way to behave?

  —No but, wait there’s a key here Mister Gibbs it’s mixed up with these tickets you, here . . .

  —That’s a key Bast.

  —I know it yes, here.

  —Place of stone Bast one flight up, how hard a path the going down and going up another’s stair told me you need help andcouragement, sensitive purpose lock yourself in write nothing music how’s that.

  —No but it’s your key, here . . .

  —Sitting right there Bast heard her say you need a place to work give all your time to composing, heard her say that’s quite outrageous really.

  —No but she, I have a place Mister Gibbs I don’t really . . .

  —Told me you need help andcouragement place to work Bast God damndest person to help andcourage I ever met, give you those God damned tickets get the God damned four seventeen apologize to you give you place of stone supposed to be in there working all you stand here and complain, number on the tag right up on Ninety-sixth Street see the number? Place of stone supposed to get in there and exult even throw in a piano how’s that, laughing fring whereon mad stringers told me Joan of Arc voices she heard? If not you, who. If not now, when, told me your talented sensitive purpose Bast take help and couragement from any brazen throat here . . . he seized a shoulder for support, took the key by the tag strung to it to drop in the breast pocket where he sagged for closer scrutiny.—Clever idea Bast tell you make a clean breast? Of all things known . . .

  —What’s, oh that’s no that’s just . . . he jammed it into the pocket—if I can help you Mister Gibbs, if you’ll just wait here a minute I want to cash in these tickets . . .

  —When Bast! When . . .! the door shuddered with a kick.

  —No if you’ll just wait for a minute Mister Gibbs I . . .

  —If not you, when! and the door banged as he turned for the grating.

  —Say ah, hello? I just want to turn in these tick . . .

  —Closed.

  —Yes but, but you’re right here couldn’t you just . . .

  —Closed can’t you see the clock?

  —Yes well, well then when are you open.

  —Can’t you see the sign . . .? Over penciled-in Os and 9s lipsticked lettering spelled suck and he turned at a sudden trot, hit the door hard and pulled it open.

  —Oh hi Mister Bast. Was that Mister Gibbs yelling police just now?

  —Yes but he, where is he did you see him?

  —Around there, there’s this bar around there where he goes . . . the load shifted,—you walking home?

  —Yes but, but why didn’t you get the bus.

  —I just thought I’d wait up for you, how come you got more train tickets.

  —I didn’t, he just gave them to me and I tried to turn them in but that agent says he’s closed so I can’t pay you right back but . . .

  —There’s no big rush hey! did you see that?

  —What.

  —That lightning, boy it got real dark didn’t it? You in a hurry?

  —Yes.

  —Mister Bast? Could you wait up a second? Ijust have to fix this here shoelace . . . he’d crouched jackknifed over his armload, a sneaker mounting the curb that checked the rampant advance of grassgrown cracks stemming from the empty concrete shell of the Marine Memorial Plaza where a disabled French machinegun and a vacant flagpole held off the sky.—Boy it looks like we both need shoes, right? he finished with an urgent tug—holy, shit . . .

  —And look will you please stop . . .

  —No but it broke again, you know what I was thinking on the train hey? he came on righting his load, hurrying alongside—like I have this thing which what it is is it’s this selling outfit where what you do is you send in and they send you all these different shoes which you get to wear them around so people can see them, you know? See that’s how you sell them, see? I mean not the ones you’re wearing right off your feet but like you take their order and then you make this commission, you know? Like it says you can make a hundred dollars a week in your spare time and you get to wear these shoes around too, you want me to find it?

  —No.

  —Okay but I have this other thing about have your own import export business right from your Own home, you know? Maybe you could do that . . . they crossed a rutted bog opening on a dirt road.—Would you want to do that? Mister Bast?

  —Do what.

  —This import export business right from your own home.

  —Import and export what.

  —How do I know but I mean that’s not the thing anyway, you know? he kicked a can up the highway’s unkempt shoulder kicking the weeds for some remnant of sidewalk,—I mean the thing is just where you get to sell something like, wait a second . . .

  —Look I want to get home before it rains, I can’t . . .

  —No but anyway it’s just this other selling thing I got where it says you’ll never have to clean your toilet bowl again, see they send you this here . . .

  —What makes you think I want to go around selling things! I don’t even . . .

  —To make some money just like anybody I mean that’s what you wait up, I mean you’re taking such long steps hey? Mister Bast? Did you ever hear that one about if you need any money just ask my father he’s got piles?

  —No.

  —No but wait up hey, do you get it? Just ask my . . .

  —I get it yes, look does your father know about all this sending away you’re doing?

  —What?

  —I said does your father . . .

  —No but that’s just suppose to be this here joke see, where . . .

  —I know it’s supposed to be this here joke! it’s the, it’s one of the worst I ever heard, I said does your fa . . .

  —No but hey Mister Bast . . .? he came pushing shoulder high through Queen Anne’s laces hemming him in behind,—like what business is your father in.

  —Music.

  —What he writes it? like you?

  —He writes it and he’s a prominent conductor look, music’s not a business like shoes or . . .

  —No I know, I mean that’s why he’s this here prominent conductor right . . .? he came hurrying alongside for the brief stretch of sidewalk,—I mean where he makes some money being this conductor so he can go write this here music in his spare time he doesn’t make much off, right?

  —I suppose yes now look I’m in a hurry . . .

  —No that’s okay I can take bigger steps it’s just all this here stuff I can’t hardly . . .

  —Well where are you going, where . . .

  —No I’m just walking you home, see I . . .

  —Well you don’t have to it’s practically dark, doesn’t your mother expect you to . . .

  —Her . . .? the sidewalk ended abruptly—no she comes in all different ow! holy, boy I almost lost my . . .

  —Different what.

  —All these different times see she’s like this here nurse could you wait up a second hey? My sneaker . . . he’d gone down to one knee where a pole of rust bore Doges Promenade in barely discernible letters over the rutted opening in the weeds.—Boy hey did you hear that? that thunder?

  —Of course that’s why I . . .

  —No wait I’m coming . . . he got across the rutted mud,—hey?

  —Well what!
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br />   —Nothing, I mean what do you want to talk about.

  —I don’t want to talk about anything I’m . . .

  —How come. I mean are you thinking of a tune . . .? he took advantage of the broken remnant of sidewalk to hurry alongside—have you still got that master tunesmith thing I gave you hey?

  —Look I’m not trying to write tunes for money, I’m . . .

  —I know, I mean how come you’re writing it.

  —It’s just what I have to do! now will you . . .

  —I know, that’s what I mean. How come . . . the sidewalk remnant was gone and he plunged in behind—hey? I mean when you’re writing this here music do you need to be someplace with a piano or a horn or something? or like can you make it up anyplace. Hey? Mister Bast . . .?

  —What.

  —I mean when you make it up right inside your head do you hear it playing like? I mean if I think of some song I can like hear it playing only if you’re making up this here music which nobody ever heard it before do you hear these here instruments playing like tee, boy I’m getting out of breath, like teedle leedle leedle right inside your head then you go write down these little notes? Or, or first do you think of all these little notes which you write them down then when you read them you get to hear . . .

  —Look I can’t stop now to explain it, I’m . . .

  —Okay don’t get mad, I mean I just thought where you’re teaching it and all you’d . . .

  —Well I’m not! I’m not teaching anything, now will you . . .

  —No but how come, you quit hey? I mean how come you, boy I can’t hardly see where wait up hey, Mister Bast? I mean this opera thing which I’m being this here little dwarf in it you’re not teaching that anymore either hey?

  —No!

  —No but wait, see I thought we’d be . . .

  —What difference is it, you’re just being this here little dwarf in it to get out of gym aren’t you?

  —No well sure but I mean what are you going to do now hey . . .

  —I just told you!

  —No I know but like you just said you’re not writing these here tunes for money I mean if you quit teaching see all these here business oppor, hey? Where are you wait . . . he burst from the weeds where another agony of rust signaled ruts running in toward the dark bank of trees—hey? this is where you turn in? I mean just a second I just wanted to . . .

  —Look don’t start to get these papers out again it’s dark! I can’t see them why do you want me to see them anyhow, why do you pick me to . . .

  —No well I just thought maybe we can use each other you know? like I said that time? So I mean where I just gave you this here loan for these tickets I thought . . .

  —All right! I thanked you didn’t I? I’m paying you interest aren’t I? I’ll give it to you as soon as I can turn them in and the school still owes me money for . . .

  —No wait a second, hey? you want me to turn them in for you?

  —Fine yes, here, here and look I’ll give you a dollar that should make us about even wait, here’s another one . . .

  —No but see the dollar is . . .

  —All right here! here I still have some nickels from that cafeteria here, now goodnight goodbye!

  —No well see we’ll keep that separate because I have to like discount these here tickets, you know?

  —No I don’t know! look . . .

  —No but see that’s what you do hey, see because while you’re loaning this here money off me it’s not working for me while I’m waiting to get it back off these here tickets so I mean you just discount it like, you know? I mean like we had where this Mister Y goes in this here bank to loan this four thousand dollars off them for five years see? Only they like loan him five thousand which all he gets is this here four thousand he came for where they’re loaning him this here other thousand to like pay them back this interest for this four thousand ahead of time so I mean he never even sees it, see I mean like he loaned it off them only all they do they just take it out of this one pocket and like put it right back in this here other one I mean that’s what discounting is, see?

  —Fine yes look just give them back to me, I’ll . . .

  —No that’s okay hey I’ll do it for you and I mean we’ll make this here discount rate like ten percent okay? Like that makes it easier to figure up where you just move the dot, so that’s . . .

  —Fine yes you move it goodbye, it’s starting to . . .

  —No wait we have to figure it up hey seven, eight . . .

  —There are twelve tickets they cost nine sixty, now goodni . . .

  —Eleven, wait there’s thirteen here so that means like if twelve cost . . .

  —Wait there can’t be, there were twelve of you on the train I bought twelve . . .

  —There’s thirteen go ahead and count them so like if twelve cost nine sixty then one, twelve into nine wait, ninety-six no wait, seven what’s seven twelves wait seven tens is . . .

  —Listen if there are thirteen then thirteen of you went in with Mrs Joubert and only twelve came back out now who . . .

  —Wait eight, eighty cents each right? So eighty move the dot wait, seventy-two plus what am I giving you, plus eight seventy-four . . .

  —Listen! who went in and didn’t come back out, did you . . .

  —Wait nine forty-six right? I mean I can barely see five, six . . .

  —Look we must have lost somebody! Will you . . .

  —And thirty-five, forty-five I can’t hardly see I almost gave you a dime, wait, here’s a penny forty-six, right?

  —No listen who went in with you on that field trip and didn’t come back out.

  —Who Mrs Joubert?

  —No! one of your . . .

  —How do I know hey look out you’re dropping . . .

  —And look what are you giving me this for this money, I just gave you the tickets to turn in didn’t I? You lent me the money to pay for them now turn them in and get it back and if you want me to pay you this int . . .

  —What?

  —I said you have the tick . . .

  —No but it’s these two separate deals you know? I mean there’s this here loan which that’s one then there’s this where I bought these here discounted tickets off you so nobody gets screwed hey? Mister Bast? I mean like this here Mister Y which . . .

  —I don’t want to hear about Mister Y! Just, goodbye I’ll . . .

  —I mean there’s no big rush to pay it back okay . . .? the voice pursued over the high grass—because hey Bast . . .? its harsh edge followed him down the weeded ruts where the trees closed overhead—didn’t I tell you maybe we can use each other . . .? He walked faster looking, listening as though something had moved that instant before his look stilled a torn branch, a tire nested with leaves, the porthole ajar in a foundered washing machine then abruptly the car filling the turn as though it had simply chanced upright there, windows framing limbs that might have been caught in some random climax of catastrophe as he passed silent, distinguishable only as movement till the road’s end filled with illumination flinging his shadow suddenly forward in the headlights behind him and, at the gate there, as suddenly gone. He pulled it shut on the stubbled lawn infiltrating the terrace bricks fronting the studio where the screen door shook on the risen wind hung twisted on one hinge. Beyond it the door stood open. Next to it something, the handle of something, a shovel handle now he came closer, protruded through a broken pane, and thunder gently shook the space he left behind to crush glass underfoot, stepping inside. He stopped. Up, through the balcony rail, light cut across the door to the hayloft and was gone. A plate cracked under his step as he drew back and knocked the shovel to the stone floor, and there he crouched, clutching the shovel handle.

  —Who’s there! he rose slowly and pushed the light switch by the door. Nothing happened.—Who’s up there! he called loudly, raising the shovel, crouching again as light danced past the door above, then through it to the stairhead to break down on him between the eaves.

  �
�Yes? Who is it?

  The shovel came down slowly.—Who . . . is that!

  —Oh it’s you Edward, watch where you step.

  —You, who . . . who . . . The light caught his face square, then the smashed ink bottle flooding the carpeted stone toward the stairs.

  —You look quite threatening with that shovel, I’m glad I . . .

  —But the . . . Stella? What . . . She’d turned away with her light back into the hayloft as he mounted the stairs.—What’s happened!

  She sat on an end of the bed dangling a flashlight.—What you see, she said, moving the light now over drawers jammed open at angles, a lampshade crushed, a spoon, a dresser scarf and Piston’s Harmony torn through the spine, sheet music and a player piano roll flung toward the opened window he walked past her to close and sink on the windowseat there, poking into its opened drawer.

  —But what, what would anybody . . . he stared where her light fell on a Bach Wagner Program of Miss Isadora Duncan and Mister Walter Damrosch at Carnegie Hall Wednesday Afternoon February 15,19u, at 3 o’clock—why anybody would . . .

  —No I opened that . . . her light swept over postal views of Cairo,—looking . . .

  —But what looking for what! he was on his feet again—how did, where did you even come from!

  —Just now? From the house, Edward . . . she sank back on an elbow, pulling her dress from a knee where the light caught it—those papers they want, a birth certificate just anything, Aunt Julia thought they must be there in the windowseat. Norman’s having some business problems he’s rather desperate to get things settled, we . . .

  —Business look everything smashed broken the whole place torn up you’re sitting here in the middle of it with a flashlight like a, talking about Norman’s business problems all you want is some scrap of paper to prove I, that I’m . . .

  —Oh Edward.

  —What oh Edward what! you, you came out here once to make me look like I, I shouldn’t have told you . . . he stood over her where she’d come up from her elbow, where the light fell now on a souvenir menu from the Hamburg America Line still as her fallen shoulders—I should never have told you about that day seeing you that day up at, at, seeing you . . . and the flash of lightning that filled the skylight over them arrested her rising hand, arrested in detail strands of her pinned hair fallen loose on the defenseless slope of her back where he’d bent closer, where perspiration beaded her neck, where the balance of near dark left his hand’s tremble stilled in hers as Stella rose.