—And who ran around handing out proxy statements and copies of the by-laws, like joining a club boys and girls. This is Mister Moncrieff reporting to you for work, you’re the owners the rest of us only work here, your one share of Diamond stock means you can haul us on the carpet any time you think we’ve stepped out of line and the rest of that show you put on for them, if Mrs Joubert . . .
—Try to shoot her down with this Beaton and you’ll really come out with your ass in a sling, she’s got a pretty savvy bunch of kids there and she’s not far off base herself. I talked to her about it the last time she was in here and she . . .
—This suit? You’ve talked to her about this? His eyes came up as sharply as his fingers abruptly squaring the papers before him, to fix on the emergence of what at this, or any distance, appeared as gold carriage bolts holding the white cuffs to.
—It’s going to be the feature spread in the Annual Report isn’t it? Even finished the layout, just remember it’s her pet project and if you want to go in there and blow everything to the old man it’s your ass. There’s nothing there about any of this, just the kids buying the share but if she tells Cates with those eyes of hers about trying to give these kids a looksee at the system with a few corporate dollars to play with, he’ll nail you for pulling the rug out from under her and all the rest of us by leaving the door open, you’ll be lucky to get out of here with your . . .
—Don’t be, don’t be ridiculous a suit like this would never come to court. Leaving the door open, I won’t try to explain the technicalities the point now is simply that the precedent set by your, this authorization and payment might be construed as tacit admission of irregularities that could jeopardize our entire, excuse me. A button glowed.—Yes sir . . . He squared the papers again, standing,—and I think I can clear this up without bothering the Governor.
—And I think you better consider it cleared up right now, go after her with all your preciselys and if she thinks she’s made a booboo she’ll lay it all right in Uncle John’s lap. Beaton? he came on in the silent wake cutting across the carpet toward the door,—if it lands in his lap you’ll come flying out of that board room ass over teakettle . . . The carriage bolts shot unaimed from the acrylic barrels of his sleeves and, poised for the moment, he seemed to seek something vulnerable, as abruptly recovering a swift turn in stabs at the telephone.—Oh Carol I’m tied up here in Beaton’s office just want to know if there were any calls, oh and get me the name of that name writer Skinner was digging up . . . he’d reached the end of the cord and, turning to pace it back, raised his eyes toward the door,—give us a rundown of . . . what?
—Mister Davidoff did you want me to . . .
—What are you doing here I’m talking to you on the, never mind . . . he put down the phone forcefully—oh and Carol while you’re right here, he came on after her pulling the door closed behind them with an unfinished nod to the empty desk outside,—tell personnel to put a rush on processing the gal who was in here this morning for the project specialist spot in our shop, make sure they’ve got that recommendation on her in their folder the one I got from Mister Skinner . . .
—That got mugged in the elevator? We’re all scared to . . .
—Skinner yes, the publisher who was in here, he’s dug up a name writer for us who’s coming in this afternoon to touch base on this cobalt book and I want Eigen to check out his credits before he . . .
—Mister Eigen already left for the day, he went out with this man that . . .
—That Taiwan medical relief that’s right, took him out to tie one on.
—This man with these bandages on his eye and all, yes sir, they just went . . .
—Bandages and all what.
—No I meant like he was just kind of loud and walked funny, we were all scared to . . .
—Sounds like he tied one on before he got here, he passed her on the turn unlimbering his jacket—you can’t ever tell about these oh and Carol, the Annual Report feature on that field trip get the layout and captions together and that new set of pix we had airbrushed in to get across this whole inner city concept of wait what’s that . . .
—Oh that’s Mister Eigen’s I forget what you call them, from Mister Moyst Mister Davidoff, it came in around lunch.
—Eigen’s orders where have they been all this, oh Carol, he paused fighting out of his jacket to assail the manila envelope with the same vigor, sundering it across its face with—better be getting Moyst on the phone to stand by while I check out the, CIPAP they’ve got that in, Mister Eigen will rept McGuire AFB Wrightstown NJ NLT one thousand hours wait, here it ought to be, for air movement to Frankfurt, Germany on Flt K eight one one AMD WRI-FRF sounds like, get Moyst on the phone and that’s Colonel Carol not Mister Moyst or we’ll all be, make sure we have approval for commercial air here if they’ve stuck him with military air we might as well just get Miss Bulcke too will you? Beaton’s been trying to horn in as usual got her phoning Moyst to get these orders up here on the double try to flag her down before he and his buddy Cutler put us all up the, wait let me get through this, TC two hundred Indiv placed on TDY as indie RPSCTDY Eigen, Thomas, GS twelve Equiv they wouldn’t give him a thirteen Distribution: fifty Indiv Concerned he won’t need all those, five CG AMC, Attn: AMCAD-AO, Washington but where the, CIC: two XX four nine nine where did they put the, TDY to: West Germany, thence to where did they put Eigen will rept McGuire AFB Wrightstown just read that, the hiring of special conveyance here it is, special conveyance auth IAW Para three three c for use in, around and this is it, in, around and between TDY stations got Moyst on the phone there yet? Check out this term special conveyance when you get him if it doesn’t include commercial air he’s liable to end up riding in on a, oh and before you get Moyst just try Eigen at home, he may have just tell him I’ll give him a call as soon as I’ve put out these brush fires . . . and they looked from his receding back, fighting his tie loose up the hall, to the still face of the clock.
—I broke another nail.
—I’m glad at least it’s Friday.
—I know, I’m supposed to go out tomorrow and I just broke another nail. My girlfriend’s giving me this shower.
—I didn’t see the coffee wagon.
—I know, I think it just went when I was looking for him . . . A telephone rang.—Hello . . .? No he just stepped away from his desk Mister Mollenhoff, he . . . Yes I’ll have him return your call. I can’t hardly drink the coffee here anyway.
—I think it’s the same ones who run the cafeteria.
—I had that chop-suey sandwich today, it wasn’t so bad.
—I can’t eat things like that. They give me gas.
For time unbroken by looks to the clock the only sound was the chafing of an emery board, and the clock itself, as though seizing the advantage, seemed to accomplish its round with surreptitious leaps forward, knocking whole wedges at once from what remained of the hour.
—I wonder who he wants to stay late.
—I was so tired last night I almost went up the stairs on my hands and knees.
—I know, my girlfriend’s giving this shower for me tomorrow and I already broke a nail, can you tell now looking at it . . . and the clock suddenly appeared to have reached a good stopping place.
—Oh Carol see if you can get me wait, Florence get me Mister Beaton just sit down here Mister, can you move these things Carol? Sit down here Mister Malinovsky till I find out who’s authorized this, if it’s all on the up and up we haven’t lost a thing but corning in after hours like this with your crew starting to pull down a painting as big as that one in the lobby, Carol get Mister Eigen for me at home while I think of it and . . .
—Mister Beaton is at a meeting sir, he . . .
—Well try Cutler, Dick Cutler’s office he might be at the bottom of this or know who is a painting that size by a name painter doesn’t grow on trees the only person who could authorize removing it is that Eigen Carol? Just sit tight a minute Mister Malinovsky, you get Cutler Florence?
>
—No sir, Miss Bulcke said they’re all at a meeting in the board room. Did you want me to stay or . . .
—Get Miss Bulcke back and I’ll, just tell her this is urgent I’ve got a man sitting here and a crew out there on double time and a half waiting to, you get Eigen yet?
—He’s waiting on three four Mister Davidoff.
—Oh and Carol . . . he stabbed at a button.—Hello? And Florence while you’re at it hello? Eigen? he stabbed again.—Look in the files for the name of the painter that did the big lobby mural out there Florence, that big color spread we got on business and the arts in, hello . . .? He stabbed again, again.—Hello? Eigen . . .?
The line was dead.
—Tom? was that the phone?
—Idiot cut himself off, he called slumped on the sofa’s arm reaching the phone back, prodding a heap of laundry for space to sit—always hope he’ll forget who he called but . . .
—Who?
—David don’t climb . . . it rang again and he reached for it, a piece of toast clinging to his sleeve.—Yes? Eigen . . .
—Tom? Who, oh. David get down, don’t bother Papa when he’s on the telephone . . .
—Yes I am, go ahead . . . he’d dropped the toast crust into an ashtray and was wetting a random corner of sheet from the laundry heap with his tongue—go ahead yes, I’m writing it down . . . he bent scrubbing the grape jelly stain into his sleeve—right yes, tomorrow mor . . . but the . . . ci what . . .? if General Box leaves directly . . . from Bonn I wouldn’t need . . . yes, they . . . but . . . but which one is . . . yes if . . . got it all down yes, if that’s . . . Did what . . .? that painting yes, his name’s Schep . . . no I . . . no idea no, I haven’t seen him for . . . right . . . right . . .
—Papa can you . . .
—Just a minute David, get down.
—Carry me.
—No now get down, I’m just going to the kitchen for a minute. And you know you’re not supposed to bring toast and jelly to the living room.
—Papa Mama said you’d play a game after Mister Schramm went.
—I just want to get a drink David, he said down the dim hall.—David? What are all these shoes doing out here, come pick them up. Marian . . .? he rounded the corner—what are all those shoes in the hall.
—Who was on the phone.
—Just Davidoff, last minute nonsense can’t stand the idea of somebody finding a moment’s peace . . . he was stooped over a low cabinet,—got a brush fire going about that lobby painting now he wants me to go out and find Schepperman, Christ. I thought we had some scotch.
—There’s some vodka.
—Hardly half a bottle . . . he held it up,—where . . .
—How much scotch do you think we had! she turned from the sink,—when you bring people home that way why don’t you stop and pick some up if you . . .
—Stop with Schramm the shape he was in?
—Well I didn’t know you were bringing him. She’d turned away again, staring through the window above the sink.—When you don’t call there’s no way I can . . .
—How the hell could I call? I just had to get him out of there, this, God damned . . . He had the refrigerator door opened, pounding the blade of a table knife under an ice tray, this . . . he pounded,—God damned thing, it’s got to be defrosted.
—Will you make me one?
He wrenched it out.—By the time I got him here I could hardly get him up the stairs, they’d packed him so full of morphine and belladonna at Bellevue he said he couldn’t feel his feet touch the ground. Then we got here and the God damned elevator’s broken.
—Every time it breaks down I climb those three flights carrying groceries.
—Do you want water in this?
—I usually have to carry David that last flight too, she said straight armed at the sink staring down at movement in a recessed fire exit across the paper blown street.
—You want water?
—I said just ice. Could I have a cigarette?
—Don’t we have any?
—I thought you’d bring some. And we need milk when you go down too.
—David’s in there waiting for his game, he came up behind her to reach his glass under the tap, reaching round her for it as he would have a piece of furniture—and what the hell’s happened to Jack . . .
—You know what the hell’s happened to Jack, she said moving no more than to reach her glass where he placed it, and they raised them in opposite directions.—He’s in a bar somewhere letting someone he’s never seen in his life buy him another drink . . .
—Listen Marian . . .
—So he can cheer up his good friend Schramm when he finally gets here.
—God damn it listen, when Jack called I didn’t even know Schramm had got out. Jack lost his key to Ninety-sixth Street and he wants to borrow ten dollars, that’s why he’s coming down here. He doesn’t even know Schramm’s out loose in that shape.
She raised her glass again, then lowered it repeating—in that shape . . . tossing the loose cubes,—the way you and Jack talk about him but you just let him walk out the door alone, in that shape, that filthy bandage, and Jack, all Jack has on his mind is a key to Ninety-sixth Street to take some woman up to that . . .
—Marian God damn it you’re always ready with half the God damned facts whenever somebody else is trying to, Schramm left because Jack’s coming, that’s why he left. He was scared, God damn it Marian I’ve been through this, I know what he, I’ve talked him out of it before and so has Jack, so has Jack, he was afraid if he waited here Jack and I would try to get him back into Bellevue. That’s why he left, that’s why he was suddenly in such a God damned hurry to leave when he knew Jack was coming.
—I see. She held her glass out where he tipped the bottle over his own.—Did he know where he was going? in that shape?
—Yes Marian . . . Paused stooped there in the doorway he drank deliberately.—He was going to get laid.
—That’s pretty.
—You asked me. She moved in with him down the hall there at Ninety-sixth Street a couple of months ago, one of these kids with bare feet and dirty hair but she can do more for him in bed than Gibbs and I can over a bottle. That’s why he didn’t want me to go with him, best sublimation there is for blowing out his brains.
—Pretty.
—How the hell would you know . . . he stood looking into his glass for a moment before he emptied it and reached for the bottle.
—Papa?
With the tug at his jacket he appeared to shrug.—I’m coming David.
—Papa has Mister Schramm only got one eye left now?
—We hope the doctors can make Mister Schramm’s eye better David but if . . .
—But he could still live if he only has one can’t he, because is that why you have two when you start and then if . . .
—That’s enough David, get your book and maybe Papa will read to you before bed.
—But you said he’d play a game when Mister Schramm went.
—I played four games with you this afternoon David and . . .
—But when you play I always win, I want Papa to play.
—I’ll play with you David. Go get it ready.
—I did.
—Did you pick up all those shoes in the hall?
—No.
—Go put them away and I’ll be in in a minute. Marian?
—When do you want dinner, she said turned again to the window, the breadth of her shoulders gone in the rise of her weight to her arms spread embracing the sink from end to end.
—I’m not hungry. He raised his glass, and from a plate there lined with a ketchup spatter of beans selected as from an hors d’oeuvres tray hot dog in wrinkled remnant.—David finished his supper? He paused, found another.—That God damned Davidoff handed me an Oriental for lunch whose doctor has him on rare beef, tells me to take him out and tie one on, Christ. I thought I could pick up something on the expense sheet until I saw our bill at The Palm.
—If you want b
read with dinner get some when you go down.
—Cigarettes, milk, bread. Butter?
—I don’t know, you’ll have to look.
—Marian I, why don’t you ever make lists? And when you go shopping, milk, you know we’ll need milk . . . He had the refrigerator open pushing things aside, looking,—and why are you keeping this gravy left from the veal, we . . .
—Well just look at it! She’d turned behind him for the ketchup spattered plate.—How much food can I stock in that refrigerator? How can I make lists and shop a week ahead with a refrigerator that size?
—All right, with the one in the new house you can shop for a month, he went on stooped, pushing things aside, looking,—don’t see any butter.
—Get some when you go down then, she said scraping clots of bean over the scotch bottle upended in the trash.
—I didn’t know there was more asparagus at dinner last night, I would have . . . what’s this, lamb chops?
—I got them for dinner.
—Three ninety-six for three lamb chops?
—I can only eat one, I thought . . .
—But three ninety-six, what would . . .
—I thought they looked good, I was hungry when I went shopping and . . .
—If you go shopping when you’re hungry you always spend . . .
—Well what should I do! Come up for rare beef at The Palm? instead of sharing David’s chicken noodle soup and finishing his peanut butter sandwich?
—All right! Would you like to have been there today like I was? Making stupid conversation with a grinning Chinese who’s chewing up slices of his nine dollar steak and blowing them out on his plate? tells me his doctor says he can’t digest the meat but he needs its juices so he patiently chews the whole God damned thing bite by bite and blows every one of them out, now what the hell kind of a lunch do you think that was, the whole place staring at us and the waiter coming over to ask if anything is unsatisfactory. Do you think I wouldn’t rather be right here? in my workroom with noodle soup and a peanut butter sandwich trying to clear up the second act of that play?
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