J R

by William Gaddis

  —Enjoy the basketball! Are you . . .

  —No way of knowing one bus from the other was there.

  —Enjoy the basketball, my God! What are you talking about, one bus from the other.

  —Never mind. I was afraid you’d understand.

  —Afraid I’d, Vogel you’re crazy you know that? You’re crazy.

  —Daisies won’t tell.

  —Vogel you . . . wait, you’re not going to leave me to sort these kids out, come back here! I’m the one that’s leaving. All of you give your permission slips to Mister Vogel, she got back over a shoulder and then, past post and rail treated to appear old and frilled ironwork made of aluminum to appear new, wagon wheels at threatening angles and post lights bright in bilious greeting,—Daisies won’t tell, my God . . . up past the cast iron stove still stranded short of the door,—enjoy the basketball! and the door closed like a shot.

  Foyer, hall, bathroom, foyer, snap, snap, snap, she started the round of turning on lights.—Nora? Donny? My God it’s like a morgue in here . . . and she rounded the corner where light now alerted the residents of the room divider in erect silhouette against the flaccid shadows beyond.—My God. What are you doing home.

  —I thought you knew they were going to release me from the hospital today, I looked for you there and then I remembered . . .

  —Released you, they thought you were a lion? So where did you think I was, dancing on the Starlight Roof?

  —No I remembered this was the day you planned the trip to the Metropolitan Art . . .

  —So you thought I was finally getting a chance to commute with the arts, do you think they didn’t sabotage that too? I spend a month planning something cultural and you think they didn’t grab it? Miss Moneybags and that crazy Vogel pretending he didn’t know one bus from the other, you think he went there for the art? The way she waves them in his face looking down her front like all the rest of you, with that face he’s got like Custer’s Last Stand you think he wasn’t grabbing one in the back of the bus while I’m watching a lot of smelly men play basketball?

  —Basketball?

  —That’s right you start it too, ask me did I enjoy the basketball. Daisies won’t tell, my God you’re all crazy. How long are you going around in that getup?

  —The doctor thinks I should keep this arm in a sling until he thinks I’m strong enough to . . .

  —The day he thinks you’re strong enough to remind me I’m still a woman tell him to send me a telegram, what about your friend.

  —Friend? Who . . .

  —Friend, that’s right, just repeat what I say, don’t you know what a figure of speech is? Did you think I thought you had any friends? I mean that bonehead on the school board who hides in that underground toilet he’s got in his back yard and calls himself a major you didn’t manage to kill, anybody that rides with you they should give them Purple Hearts.

  —He’s still in the hospital, he . . .

  —He’ll stay there if he knows what’s good for him. That dope fiend Buzzie you killed in the accident his whole black family is getting him a surprise party ready in court.

  —Hyde? they’re suing Mister Hyde? Because I thought they’d sue us but . . .

  —Us? What do you mean sue us.

  —No me I meant, me.

  —Don’t worry, they’re suing you too. Now what are you looking for.

  —I thought some mail might have come while I was in the hospital, I’ve been waiting to hear from . . .

  —The mail should stop because you’re in the hospital? Three weeks I’ve been waiting to hear from that Foundation. Did Dad eat yet?

  —I don’t know, he’s been asleep there since I . . .

  —Just from the smell in here he probably did. Where’s Nora. Nora . . .?

  The elderly dog eyed their passage from under a table but did not move.

  —I think she’s helping Donny with his bed, he . . .

  —His bed, are you going to do something about it? Nora . . .? Bring Donny for supper. He’s going to spend his life in it, the way he goes around trailing those wires looking for a place to, Nora? I said bring Donny for supper!

  —Well I, I, I think he should see someone, I’ve said I think he should see someone, we should take him to . . .

  —See someone, what do you mean see someone, he can see someone on the BMT. To see a psychiatrist? that’s what you mean? Then say it, to see a psychiatrist . . . The lid of a saucepan fell to the floor and rolled toward him.—You think I want everybody saying my son’s crazy, I had to send him to the psychiatrist? They should have sent you, that’s who they should have sent, before you got loose in this house with your ideas about controlled envirement and everything else, Nora what are you coming in here like that for. Pick up that lid, will you? You think it’s funny dressing up in bandages like your father? Can’t you show him some respect? Now what are you crying about.

  —I’m a bride.

  —Dressed up in toilet paper you’re a bride?

  —It’s a bride dress. Daddy don’t I look like a bride?

  —Maybe it’s something she saw on television, she . . .

  —Saw what, Nora I said get Donny for supper and take off that mess, you’re trailing it all over the floor. Here, sit Donny here and you . . .

  —But Mama Donny has to sit by where the plug is so he . . .

  —All right, my God it’s probably too late for a psychiatrist anyhow, we should take him to the electrician. Here, put down that spoon till I finish serving.

  —Daddy I got fourteen Brownie points, while you were at the hospital I got fourteen Brownie points.

  —That’s fine Nora, that’s . . .

  —Fine? She got twice as many as anybody, is that all you can say, fine?

  —And I still didn’t spend any allowance, you know how much I saved already Daddy? I’ve saved two dollars and six cents already except Mama . . .

  —All right Nora stop talking and eat.

  —Except Mama borrowed two dollars so I only got . . .

  —I said stop talking and eat.

  —What is it.

  —What do you mean what is it, it’s your supper. What does it look like.

  —It looks like Lingam.

  —Like what?

  —Like a lingam.

  —Like a lingam! How do you know what a lingam looks like.

  —Because it looks just like this.

  —Maybe she, maybe she saw that book you had . . .

  —I can’t hear you, will you stop whispering?

  —That book you had about, about India, things they do in India.

  —Things they do in India! My God! You sound like, I don’t know what. You think they aren’t doing them right this minute someplace a block away?

  —No what I meant was, just the book, I put it up on the bathroom shelf so Nora . . .

  —So Nora what. So she couldn’t read at home what they want me to teach them at school?

  —No I, I thought Mister Whiteback wanted Mister Vogel to try to, to work up some visual aids that would . . .

  —Vogel! What’s he going to do, build a model? Did you hear he had the whole fourth grade out sniffing glue? What do you think the police picked him up for, with those scars on his face, my God. Daisies won’t tell. He ought to be locked up. So what did Whiteback tell you.

  —Well just before I had my, before I went to the hospital, he wanted me to feel you out on this job of curriculum specialist . . .

  —Feel me out, I’ll tell you what he wants with his dirty mouth Nora come back to the table, where are you going.

  —Just in the bathroom to vomit.

  —Well clean up when you’re finished and come back to the table, I’ll tell you what he wants. He wants me to forget about this strike, he wants to give me that stinking Ring that that bag in the car with that book salesman was rubbing everybody’s face in so I’ll forget about this strike. They know him all over, that’s the way he made his commissions, getting the textbook orders from bags like her
in the back seat of his car, the kids saw them right up in those woods where we dumped that old washing machine going at it like, what’s the matter you’re not hungry?

  —Not very I, what is it . . .

  —It’s tongue what does it look like. The only reason Whiteback wants you to feel me up is this greasy little dago politician with the wife that was Miss Rheingold so it’s her Ring they’re rubbing everybody’s face in for the Spring Arts Festival in this Cultural Center he’s getting put here.

  —Oh.

  —Oh. What do you mean oh.

  —No I meant the strike, when is the strike . . .

  —When is what strike. How can we strike if Fedders put the whole of the union war chest in buying deposit certificates at the bank now we can’t get the money out for two years, and mortgages, so he buys mortgages with it. Now they’re trying to fire the one teacher left in the place that knows what it’s all about so what does Fedders do he buys mortgages, and you talk about a strike.

  —Who? Who are they firing?

  —Don’t worry it’s not you, I said the one man who knows what it’s all about, he opens the day without singing them the Star Spangle Banner so they start a loyalty day parade. You never heard of the Citizens Union of whatever it is? Nora go wash out your mouth and get ready for bed, I can smell it way over here, and take Donny. Of Neighborhood Teaching or whatever it is with this mother going around to classes spying dressed like a kid, where were you keeping yourself.

  —Yes well I, I’ve been in the hospital but who . . .

  —Who? I just told you, it’s some kid’s mother when the kid stays home sick she dresses up like her and comes to school, can you pick up your dish and put it in the sink instead of leaving it there for somebody else to clean up? Where are you going now.

  —I thought some mail might have come for me while I was . . .

  —What do you think that pile on the bread box is, Mister Coded Anonymity.

  —Oh, oh yes this is what I’ve been . . .

  —They want you to be president of General Motors? Wait till they get a look at you . . . a fork dropped, a spoon followed it.

  Somewhere a clock made a try at striking the hour. A door banged; a toilet flushed; a door banged.—Dad . . .? are you in there? A rude sound responded promptly from within.—My God . . . rounding a corner shedding one shoe, the other.—Now what are you looking for.

  —I had some money put away here, in the back of this drawer. It’s gone.

  —What do you put money in the back of a drawer for?

  —There was almost fifty dollars it, it’s gone.

  —Nora? Come in here.

  —What Mama?

  —I said come in here. Daddy says he put some money in that drawer and it’s gone. Do you know . . .

  —Donny found it.

  —Well where is it, get it.

  —He sold it.

  —What do you mean he sold it.

  —He sold it to some boys.

  —He sold it?

  —He didn’t know, he thought the coins were better because the other’s only paper. He sold the fives for a nickel and the ones for ten cents.

  —Well why did he, my God, why did he . . .

  —He thought the ones were better because they had George Washington.

  —My God.

  —But, but Nora what boys. Why didn’t you stop him.

  —I don’t know Daddy just these boys, I wasn’t even here. He got eighty-five cents, I helped him count, after. Mama . . .

  —All right Nora that’s enough, I told you to get ready for bed and pick up that toilet paper, it’s all over the house. So what are you going to do now Mister Morgenthau.

  —Well I, I don’t know, I . . .

  —You better get back to making faces at yourself in the mirror. When are we going to see your nose again?

  —The doctor said I should leave this bandage on until he thinks I’m . . .

  —Does he think you can get up here and do a little roll playing? A skirt went to the floor, hose peeled down to a wad and followed.—What’s all this stuff.

  Calibrated pencil, linen counter, tape measure, string,—things they took out of my pockets at the hospital, they put them in a . . .

  —Well can you get them off the bed? My God, like doing it on the counter in Woolworth’s, here’s another of your pieces of paper.

  —Oh I’ve been looking for . . .

  —General Electric Credit Corporation? If you have made your past payments regularly, you have established a valuable saving habit.

  —No that’s from the payment on the washing machine, I didn’t mean . . .

  —Don’t break this worthwhile habit. Your dealer will deliver the appliance of your choice today my God no wonder you’re in such a mess, you hide money in drawers and save it by spending it, now they want you to save some more by buying something else, you’re all crazy . . . Elastic snapped, something shapeless black flew toward a chair.—Nora can sit there and Donny can sit over there.

  —What for.

  —What do you mean what for, so they can see.

  —See what.

  —See what. What do you mean see what. See us.

  —See us, what . . .

  —See us what! My God what do you think what! Unless you’re going to keep on those pants with the rip all the way down the crotch, what do you think what!

  —No that, happened in the accident but . . .

  —All right just forget it.

  —But did you really mean . . .

  —I said forget it! where pearled nails suddenly bit deep,—if that was Miss Moneybags you’d have your face in it! You’d have your, get away from me!

  —But . . .

  —I said forget it! If I ever thought we could show these kids something beautyful I should have my head examined . . . and up, heels drawn abruptly nestled in the rough as though preparing el modakheli,—the things they do in India! My God look at you . . . where the struggle rose between shirt and sling, a shoe dropped and—you don’t even wear uqderpants like other men do, they come to your knees . . . an end of the inflated belt encircling her where she drew breath deep and held it as around her movement slowed to the tearing of envelopes, rustle of paper, silence, tap, tap, tap . . . Cinched upright, nipples standing pebble hard, she turned slowly.—What are you doing!

  —Oh nothing, nothing I just . . .

  —Nothing! What do you mean nothing! You’re crawling around on your hands and knees tapping the wall and listening! You’re crazy! Or you’re trying to make me crazy aren’t you. Aren’t you! I’m going to call the police.

  —No you don’t understand, I’m just . . .

  —Don’t understand! I understand you’re crazy, what are you doing down there! You think there’s somebody in the wall?

  —Mama what’s the matter.

  —Shut up and go back to bed Nora, ask your father what’s the matter!

  —Daddy what’s the matter.

  —He’s crawling around on the floor with his measuring tape making little pencil marks and tapping, that’s what’s the matter! Tap, tap, tap and he listens, look at him. Go ahead do it again, show her, drive us all crazy.

  —No but I just . . .

  —Don’t tell me that’s not what you were doing, I was watching you.

  —Can we call the police Mama?

  —Shut up and go back to bed Nora. And you, just stay on your side of the room . . . she slid upright and disencumbered herself,—my God, and you talk about the things they do in India. And leave that light on! You think I’m going to lie here in the dark when you start in again? And I thought it was bad when you just made faces at yourself, you’re probably doing it right now under the bandage where I can’t see aren’t you. Will you turn off that light? You think anyone can sleep with the whole place lit up like Coney Island . . .? and somewhere the clock took up its occasional tries at striking the hour till morning made a tentative approach as though uncertain what it might discover.—My God, can’t you get u
p and make them something to eat? do I have to do everything in this house . . .? doors banged, the toilet held a round of flushing, smoke rising from the toaster lay a blue pall down the hall and the morning still lingering outside appeared to have decided to stay there, dwindling to the gray of afternoon.—Now what is it Nora, my God can’t Mama spend a day resting without everybody going crazy? Go tell Daddy to make you a peanut butter if he can do it without burning the house down, close the door and turn down that television . . .! and finally the gray yielded to dark, the clock made another try at striking the hour, missed, waited, tried again unheard, again, until the alarm stung the silence into another sunless day.—You’re making faces again aren’t you.

  —What? oh I . . .

  —Well what are you doing hiding in the closet.

  —No I’m looking for some clothes, I just . . .

  —Why don’t you put the closet light on then.

  —I didn’t know you were awake, I didn’t want to . . .

  —Awake? Could anybody sleep with you banging into doors like that? What are you doing at that end with all my dresses.

  —I’m looking for something to wear, I can’t . . .

  —Pull up your underpants and you’ll look nice in the green one.

  —No a suit, I can’t find a suit, if you sent them all to the cleaners I can’t get one out before school and . . .

  —Who said they went to the cleaners.

  —But where are they then.

  —Nora took them to the Thrift Shop.

  —The Thrift Shop? My suits?

  —How do you think she got her Brownie points? If you think . . .

  —No but my suits she, how could you let her just take both my suits and . . .

  —Because you were supposed to go right down and buy them back.

  —Buy back my own suits?

  —Yes buy back your own suits, who else would buy them. For two dollars each you couldn’t help your own daughter earn six Brownie points? She thought you could go down and buy them right back, was it her fault you went to the hospital instead?

  —No but one was, one cost sixty dollars, the gray one with checks and the brown one, the brown one was only a year old, suppose they’ve sold them.