J R

by William Gaddis

  —Got a misplaced reverence for mail Tom, think Grynszpan’s getting invitations to birthday parties? Edison Company look, A Piscator Attorney at Law ever hear good news from an attorney at law? Lighthouse for the Blind, Crawley and . . .

  —All right just get up and bring it in, who the hell left the hot water in the sink running like this . . .

  —Better turn it off before we . . .

  —What do you think I’m trying to, damn it look at that the handle’s broken right off the faucet.

  —Where’s Old Struggler.

  —Right there on that pile of film cans Jack who the hell broke this fauc . . .

  —Find any glasses? came from behind 36 Boxes 200 2-Ply where he threaded his way through the stacks of cartons for an opening ahead—where the, what happened to the lamp in here . . . He rested the bottle on an H-O carton to find a match, held it high along a further reach of cartons rising to a plateau of bound volumes heaped toward the wall and then came on for the windows ahead where an askew blind caught flashes of light from below.

  —Jack? When were you up here last, turn that light on will you?

  —Hell do you think I’m . . . he poised the stockinged foot on Wise Potato Chips Hoppin’ With Flavor!—how it got over here . . . and he reached under the punctured shade,—there . . .

  ——treasured heirlooms, many were from the finest homes in . . .

  —God damned radio still alive, find a glass? Better get, ow!

  —No is that all the scotch we . . .

  —Wait don’t sit down, place is boobytrapped with sharp pencils . . . he pulled the soiled blanket from the armless sofa, sank back with the bottle.—Who the hell’s reading Moody’s Industrials . . .

  —That’s what I, wait if that’s all the scotch damn it Jack you’re drinking the whole . . .

  —Couldn’t wait, where’s your glass.

  —There aren’t any glasses! do you, you think I don’t need one too Christ I, I’d just talked him out of it Jack I . . .

  —Did a great job.

  —What? Look don’t, don’t say anything like that to me again Jack don’t . . .

  —Well how the hell could you let him leave like that! just, just let him go out alone even if you’d . . .

  —He wouldn’t let me go with him! I told him you were coming down he thought we’d try to put him back into Bellevue he had this, this girl this God damn girl if she’d been here waiting for him like she said she would she, he’d be . . .

  —Need some more scotch, I’d go myself but Hardy Suggs stole my shoe.

  —I’m going yes, look Jack I’ll hurry if the police come in just don’t start, just tell them I’ll be right back will you?

  —New liquor store right on the corner can’t miss it, I saw it from the cab, Tom? Can’t miss it, big sign in the window Back to School Sale can’t miss it . . . he put down the empty bottle, got up and dug for a match favoring his shod foot toward the window where he parted the blind to peer down at the flashing lights in a puff of smoke, reached to drop the burned match behind 2-Ply Facial Tissue Yellow sagging closer to it, picking a page up—what the, Tom . . .? he came down on 1 Doz 59¢ Wise Potato Chips Hoppin’ With Flavor! to bring the score under the light—pom pompom, pom . . . escaping him till he sang out abruptly—halte là!

  —Hello . . .?

  —Qui va là! That you Tom? Got back God damned fast what, wait who are you . . .

  —I, Mister Gibbs . . .?

  —Yes but who the, no. No. Bast? What in, what the hell are you doing here . . .

  —Well I just, I’ve been away I just got back . . . he dropped a soiled manila envelope and a paper sack on the armless sofa and stood there—I, I’ve just been working here I, I mean what, is everything all right?

  —Everything’s great, look . . .

  —No but what are those police cars down there they . . .

  —Those are police cars Bast now look, will you just tell me how you ever got here?

  —Yes well the bus came in downtown and I walked across and took the subway up to . . .

  —Bast?

  —What, did I . . .

  —Listen. Can you just tell me how the hell you found this place to begin with?

  —Yes well the tag, the number was right on the tag on that key you gave me and the name Gryns . . .

  —I gave you?

  —Yes and the name Grynszp . . .

  —No wait, wait. I gave you the key?

  —Well, well yes you, that night at the train station when you remember don’t you Mister Gibbs? I mean I, I think you’d had something to drink but you gave me the key and said I could work up here if I, I mean is it all right?

  —Fine great look just sit down will you? Don’t just stand there like a . . .

  —Because I mean if it’s not I could . . .

  —Said it’s fine didn’t I? Few details I didn’t follow find that card here someplace I, will you sit down!

  —Yes well I, I was just going to fix something to eat . . . he’d picked up the paper sack again,—I’ve been on the bus all day I haven’t had anything since . . .

  —Fine go fix it, just . . .

  —I’ll be right back . . . he got past 36 Boxes 200 2-Ply,—Mister Gibbs? Would you like a cup of tea?

  —Hate a cup of tea listen . . .

  —Yes well I could only find one cup, he called over the torrent at the sink,—Mister Gibbs? I’ve tried not to disturb things I just put all the lampshades back here in one place and moved some of the boxes so it would be easier to . . .

  —Bast?

  —And the sink yes, yes I’m sorry . . . he came through with a cup dangling the string of a teabag—one day I turned on the hot water and when I tried to turn it off the handle on the faucet broke off in my hand and I couldn’t . . .

  —Look don’t worry about the God damned sink just, listen . . .

  —Would you like one of these Mister Gibbs . . .? he was tearing a cellophane wrapping—I just got them because it’s all I could . . .

  —Christ no now look . . .

  —Mister Gibbs are you, you’ve only got one shoe on are you . . .

  —I know it! now, now listen . . .

  —And your coat’s torn there by the pocket I mean are you, is everything . . .

  —Listen! everything’s, I mean what are you doing here!

  —Well I, I just thought when you said I could come up here and work you said, you were talking about a place of stone in that cafeteria about writing an opera and . . .

  —Cafeteria thought you’re writing an opera call up they tell me you’re on a business trip, woman looks like a God damned carnival tent tells me . . .

  —But, but how did you . . .

  —Jack . . .?

  —Tells me to bump into you have you call in for an appointment with your . . .

  —I, I just did yes when I got off the bus but, but how did . . .

  —Jack? Have they been here to, who . . .

  —Like you to meet Edward Bast Tom, meant to tell you I said he could work up here he’s a composer, here pass the bottle . . .

  —Yes well I, I’m glad to meet you Mister Grynszpan I’ve sort of expected you any day there’s a lot of mail for you, I put it in the oven to . . .

  —No wait, look . . .

  —Thought we needed a composer in residence cheer things up here, busy composing somebody else’s opera needed a piano, found the piano yet Bast?

  —Yes well I, I mean I got about two octaves uncovered but then some books slid down when I was trying to find a, it sounds like a radio under there somewhere but I can’t . . .

  —Tell you about that later Bast, he’s a little sensitive this was his honeymoon apartment, Tom? Tell Mister Bast how you used to clear your typewriter and papers off the card table when your charming bride invited . . .

  —Look be quiet Jack, I’m not Mister Grynszpan no sit down Mister Bast go ahead with your, your supper look Jack . . .

  —Come on Tom be Mister Grynszpan just
for tonight? Backward turn backward oh time in thy flight, make Tom Mister Grynszpan just for Christ wait what time is it!

  —There’s a clock right under you Mister Gibbs, under the sofa there but it . . .

  —Look out Jack damn it you’re spilling that will you . . .

  —Fine only two thirty plenty of time, have to meet a lady Bast great admirer of yours have to talk to you sometime, got a lot of great admirers you . . .

  —Jack listen you’re not going anyplace like this will you just sit, here bring that bottle back!

  —What the hell’s keeping them over there! he was past the fleet of cartons and over the film cans, up 24-One Pint Mazola New Improved across bales of the Morning Telegraph toppling a peak of lampshades to mount Appletons’ Cyclopaedia of American Biography at the sill of the window to the rear where light squared the window across the airshaft,—Christ . . .

  —Jack? What’s . . .

  —Like a, like a sack of potatoes . . .

  —Just come back in here and sit down will you? Not a damn thing we can do yet, you didn’t find any glasses here did you Mister, Mister Bast?

  —No but I’m finished with this cup and there’s a . . .

  —Wait give me the bottle Jack here, take this cup in and rinse the, what . . .

  —Just brought the mail see what Grynszpan’s up to.

  —Well don’t just dump it on the . . .

  —And Mister Gibbs could you save that teabag? I’ve only used it twice oh and there’s a tomato soup can in there if you . . .

  —Where the hell all this mail’s coming from, Jack?

  —Yes well I was just going to say Mister, Mis . . .

  —Eigen sorry, my name’s . . .

  —His name’s Eigen Bast, Thomas Eigen wrote an important novel once I think you’re sitting on it he . . .

  —Look just sit down Jack give me the cup no here, let me pour it you’re . . .

  —No no here you take the cup Tom, I’ll . . .

  —Well damn it give it to me then!

  —Sorry Bast here, like some Old Strug . . .

  —No, no no thank you but the mail I was just going to say maybe some of it’s . . .

  —Mail yes see what’s, good Christ looks like Grynszpan’s enrolled in Dale Carnegie poor bastard no God damned friends he, wait get that one Tom says on it important open immediately, better open it immediately . . .

  —Mister Eigen I was just going to say this mail I think maybe some of it’s . . .

  —Looks like a, El Paso Natural Gas looks like a stock certificate how the . . .

  —God damned shrewd Grynszpan take a flyer in El Pas . . .

  —What do you mean a flyer it’s one share what’s, wait I’m sorry let me see the envelope it’s made out to, here I’m sorry Mister Bast. I didn’t even look at the envelope . . .

  —No well that’s all right I, I mean I’ve been getting some mail here if it’s all right but I don’t know what this . . .

  —God damned shrewd Bast move in on El Paso gas, lone star bastards get the hell out of the United States set up their own God damned country real lone star democracy, million dollars get a million votes thousand dollars gets . . .

  —Jack be quiet, look . . .

  —Fifty cents skin the wrong color gets half a . . .

  —Shut up! Look if Mister Bast wants to buy a share of . . .

  —But I didn’t Mister Eigen, I don’t even know what it’s . . .

  —Look Mister Bast you don’t have to explain anything sit down Jack, if you said he could come up here and work he wants to get mail here what the hell’s the . . .

  —Try to help andcourage him Tom shows up here on a business trip writing somebody else’s opera what . . .

  —Watch that lamp!

  —Halte là . . .! pages came swept down from 2-Ply Facial Tissue Yellow—qui va là! Tavern where Carmen’s hiding with the smugglers old Don José comes marching up, how’s that.

  —Well yes but that passage I was just, I mean this is just music I wrote for those dancers but now she wants to sing too, I scored the instruments for the key of C but she can only sing in the key of G so I have to score it all over again tonight to take in tomorrow and get paid so I can . . .

  —Look Jack stand that lamp back up straight and sit down!

  —Wait I can reach it Mister Eigen, if . . .

  —Just helping him with his libretto Tom, need a libretto don’t you Bast?

  —Well I, for what I’m working on myself I’ve sort of started with Locksley Hall and tried to . . .

  —Locksley Hall Christ, next thing you’ll shock us with a novel call it the Sorrows of Young Werther.

  —Well I, if you could just move your foot Mister Gibbs I could reach the . . .

  —Wait what’s he stepping on damn it, pick that up will you Bast? before he . . .

  —Get to wed some savage what’s, where’d that come from . . .

  —It’s mine I just brought it from Schramm’s, look put it up on that box before it gets . . .

  —Ever see this Bast? Schramm’s girl Irma rendered in the altogether by Lucas Cranach where . . .

  —Look it’s not Cranach it’s a sorceress by Baldung, now just give it to me will you?

  —Surprised they didn’t confiscate it God damned indecent, little bush there ever meet her Bast?

  —Who no I, I mean there was a girl I, I saw a girl once with Mister Schramm but . . .

  —Nothing to be embarrassed about Bast, stand her up here all enjoy her how’s that. Book I read once the girl had breasts like warm duck eggs Cranach must have read the same God damned book, missed the spirit here with what’s her name, Irma? More like ostrich eggs up front.

  —Rhoda.

  —That’s it Rhoda, should have brought her back with you Tom have a little wake.

  —They were getting ready to take her away why the hell would I bring her back, she look out! Damn it Jack what are you . . .

  —See out the God damned window that’s all, Christ what, never seen so many flashing lights real mixed media show down there really got their hands full with her, ought to get yourself one Tom wed some savage woman let her rear your dusky . . .

  —Look just sit down and be quiet will you Jack? She’s, if she’d been here when he came back that’s why he came back here God damn her, if she’d been here it wouldn’t have happened she . . .

  —Kept him at your house till I got there wouldn’t have happened either, he . . .

  —Jack God damn you! you, where have you been, all this time where the hell have you been!

  —But, what happened has something happened? to Mister Schramm I mean?

  —Two or three things Bast didn’t even know you knew him.

  —No well I really don’t, I mean he comes in sometimes and talks about things like writing and my, this work I’ve been trying to do helping me with some of the . . .

  —Schramm? Never knew a God damned thing about music.

  —But he really does, he . . .

  —Never could read a God damned note, tone deaf too couldn’t even tell the . . .

  —Jack look you’re spilling that all over the . . .

  —I’m not spilling, it’s spilling. I’m not . . .

  —Damn it just let me pour it will you!

  —But about Mister Schramm is he, he’s all right isn’t he? I mean, where is he . . .

  —Down the hall there look, he had an accident Bast he . . .

  —I know it yes I was, you mean another one?

  —Yes he, wait listen don’t go in there now!

  —I’m just going back here . . . he was already through and past the torrent at the sink, over the Morning Telegraphs—but that, on the bed is that . . .

  —Will you come away from that God damn window!

  —Yes but he, they’ve got a canvas bag they . . . the shade tore down in his face, footprints on it ascending from sill to molding.

  —God damn it just, just let them do what they have to do . . .

&nbs
p; —Tom? Leave him alone, come back in have a drink Bast.

  —I don’t want one.

  —Sit down then don’t have one. I’ll have one . . .

  —But what, what happened . . . he came through brushing dirt down his front—if I’d, if I’d been here . . . he caught at the tipped lamp coming down on Wise Potato Chips Hoppin’ With Flavor!—if I’d . . .

  —Look it wouldn’t have helped, you couldn’t have done a damn thing this time it wouldn’t have helped . . .

  —No but if he knocked, I know he knocked at the door he must have! and if I, if I’d been here . . .

  —Course it would have helped Tom, cheered Schramm up takes his mind off this mess look at it, young composer running out of barake sitting in this Christ awful mess eating a cupcake enough to cheer up anybody, pulls Schramm in sort of emergency barakē can’t read a God damned word of music’s helping him write an opera?

  —No but he, Mister Gibbs he talked about the Ring he didn’t have to read music to understand the, I mean he talked about the Kalevala about Freya and Brisingamen he . . .

  —Well Christ I could have told you about that Bast I told him about Brisingamen, seen the necklace around her throat I know every God damned link in it have to talk to you about her Bast, she . . .

  —Damn it Jack get down, where the hell are you trying to . . .

  —Helped Mister Eigen here too Bast, helped him with his play didn’t he Tom, told him to drop the first act it wouldn’t change a God damned thing, told him it was undigested Plato, told him he didn’t leave the actors or director an inch to move in because he didn’t trust them told him the ending was too neat he can tell you Bast, writer who’s run out of agapē same God damned thing tell him Tom, squeeze the universe into a ball and . . .

  —God damn it Jack shut up and get down, you’re going to knock that whole pile of boxes over what the hell are you doing up there.

  —Hell do you think I’m doing looking for that manuscript, only reason I came up here in the first place seen it Bast?

  —No well I, all I found was something by Mister Grynszpan it’s in a blue cover, something agape I think it was I put it in the oven with all of his . . .

  —That’s it yes where the hell is it, said you’d read it?

  —No well just the first part it was a little hard to . . .