A Fairy Tale of New York

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A Fairy Tale of New York Page 18

by J. P. Donleavy


  "O jeez you're hurting. My back's under a doctor's care. What are you an actor sonny."

  "I am an orphaned prince.''

  "What kind of talk is that."

  "Now before I kick your human rights right out of you, what do you do for a living.''

  "Gee you sound political I'm just a cab driver, I swear to christ kid. That's all I am. Just a cab driver. I don't do nothing to nobody."

  ''You abused my privacy here just now.''

  "No kidding I didn't do nothing. I didn't know you were private. I 'm begging for my life. You must be an actor kid. You must be. Just take my money, I only got thirteen dollars, take it all. But I 'm begging for my life.''

  "What makes you think you'll be lucky enough only to be killed."

  "O jeez, I thought you was just an innocent bum, no kidding. I never thought you was a mugger.''

  "You mean sir."

  ''Yes sir, I mean sir.''

  "You said I was a homosexual.''

  "O no that was only before I knew you was a mugger. Sir.''

  "When did you last pledge allegiance to your country.''

  "Gee sir I don't want to get into a whole lot of politics and things. Just let me go. I 'm a victim of heart trouble.''

  "Now you reprehensible repulsive cunt, let me teach you some manners. Not to open up your big stupid mouth to a gentleman taking his ease."

  "No no no like a clam. I really mean it. And you're no mugger."

  "So I 'm a homosexual."

  "No no no. That was just something came into my mind that got out before I knew what I was saying.''

  ''Well in fact I am a homosexual, you wretch.''

  "Gee that's wonderful fella, no kidding I really mean it. More people should be homosexual. I think my son in law is homosexual and I tolerate it for my daughter's sake. I got two nice grandchildren but all I hear out of my daughter and her husband is gimmie gimmie gimmie."

  "Are you a kind hearted fucker.''

  "O jeez christ please don't say anything like that to me, why don't you let me go, I promise I'll never squeal I was mugged. I'm on duty in half an hour. They'll wonder what happened if I don't get to the garage on time.''

  "Repeat after me."

  "Anything you want fella.''

  ''I am an unconscionable, wretched fuckpig.''

  "I can't say that big first word. Can't I just say I'm a wretched shit."

  "No."

  "O fella have mercy I'm begging you. What have you got a knife or something.''

  "I 'm going to de ball you.''

  "I'm begging you. I mean the way you sound, like you was a college professor, like I can't believe the words you're saying."

  "I'll repeat them. I'm going to de ball you. Down on your knees, keep your hands up behind your back. If you move I'll put this knife right through your spinal column. Until your head doesn't know what your legs are doing when they start running to save your life. One move and you're dead instead of merely de balled. So another like you doesn't inhabit this earth again. I'm going to make it a swell place. Just for swell folks.''

  "O god fella, god had better have mercy on your soul for doing this to me."

  "Shut up. One more word, one more movement and I rip this blade through the back of your neck. Now look forward, right at the building. Don't move your eyes.''

  Christian tip toeing backwards. And nimbly up Fifth Avenue. The odd car passing slows down to peek at the disciplining and then roars away with a smell of burning tires. Man still kneeling. Trembling in his terror. And now a blood curdling cry and scream of no no as he pitches forward on his hands and turns to look up behind into this dawning sky over Fifth Avenue. Out of which a flashing blade might come.

  Christian, knees pumping, eyes watering in the wind. Speeding north and around the corner of this big toy shop. Teddy bears and trains in the window. All the lousy Christmases I had. Every toy busted by the time I wound it up. Foster parents always gave their own kids the kind of toys that took all day to break.

  Turning in under this familiar canopy. The big heavy iron grilled glass door unlocked. Push it open. Dark complexioned chap on duty, feet splayed asleep. Rubs his eyes and jumps awake out of the big chair in the lobby. Sucked in his breath when he saw me. Wears one yellow and one blue sock. Makes you cross eyed seeing if they match.

  "Hey how did you get in, is this a hold up.'"

  "No, don't be nervous. Mrs Sourpuss please."

  "Well I'm nervous. People are getting robbed while they're kneeling in church praying. Is Mrs Sourpuss expecting you. This time of morning."

  "Yes."

  "I better ring."

  "Like hell you will."

  "I 'm only doing my job, I could get fired."

  "You could get killed."

  "Hey what's with you mister.''

  "Mister Peabody."

  "You 're Mr Peabody, that Kelly talks about.''

  "Yes."

  "That's different why didn't you say so. You took that big guy. The football player used to be married to Mrs Sourpuss. Glen told Kelly. I mean man, he's twice your size. They said you had him down begging mercy like a baby. Hey no kidding, you don't look tough, could you do a thing like that.''

  "Maybe."

  "Could I try it with you. I mean you 're not that big.''

  ''Grab me. Anywhere you want. Any grip.''

  "Sure. O k. Now wait. Here I'm going to try a head lock on you. O k."

  Operator buttoning his uniform. Putting his arm up around Christian's neck from behind, tightening across Cornelius's throat.

  "Now Mr Peabody. Go ahead. Get out of that. Ha ha. Not so easy is it."

  Elevator operator swinging, feet up into the air. And crashing down on his arse the center of the black and white tiled lobby. Slowly sitting up and resting back on his hands. Nobody believes you. If you want walk the earth in peace. You've just got to bust asses. All the way.

  Operator limping to the elevator. Said gee that was some flip as he deposited Christian on Fanny's floor. Stand here in the vestibule. When I first heard that word. Thought that's what women had. And they asked you in. After you were married to them and graduated from school. Where I had my friends Pitt and Meager when we played tag and ringaleevio. I beat Meager up. Because he was so big. Gave him a bloody nose. Teacher told me to confess it. Meager used to talk to me a lot. Pitt agreed when Meager said that although I didn't show it, I was smart. I was made Scrooge in the Christmas play when Meager sulked and said he didn't want to act. The girl I loved was the angel. Pitt made me mad when he gave her a feel when the lights were out. She had fairy wings and a wand. During rehearsal I sat at the back with the angel beside me. She said move over and let me sit too. And sat there hoping everyone would notice she was beside me. Before that she always wanted me to go away. She wore white high shoes that were clean every day. .And when I looked over her shoulder in class to see how she could write, she told me to stop copying. She had brown eyes and auburn hair. When I stared at her she said don't look at me and mind your own business. And once with other girls in our class she was skipping rope and I stopped to watch and she said if you don't stop watching us we'll quit. Only when I got to be a star of the school play was she ever nice to me. And nobody's cast me in a leading role since.

  Door opening. Fanny in her long voluminous lingerie. Blue gauzy folds sweep round her as she turns her back. Christian following her along the hall into the white room. Table lamp with china cherubs and leaves switched on. Get an expression ready on my face. To answer her low growling voice nearly whispering.

  "Where the hell have you been you son of a bitch.''

  "Out."

  "What happened to you."

  "Nothing."

  "You're in shreds. I waited all god damn afternoon. They said at Vine's office you left there at noon."

  "I went for a long walk."

  "A walk. What for."

  ''Can't I have some privacy.''

  "Privacy. You mean to come waltzing in here looking like that fiv
e thirty in the morning. Get the hell out of here if you want some privacy."

  "O k."

  Christian rising. Taking the dignified steps back into the hall. Past a little map on the wall I've never noticed before. Of an island. Put my hand up on this pearl button. Push for the last time. Feel eyes behind me. To hell with her. This is it. For good. Out into the discourteous world. Just when I need silken sheets, froths of pillow, my head sunk in soft breasts and entwined about me the languorous arms. That ferry grapefruit juice, strips of bacon and golden toasted breads.

  ''All right. Come back. I don't want you to go."

  Christian marching back. Followed by Fanny closing the door. Sit and pick up this fashion magazine. To put something foolish on my mind fast. Fanny stands and takes a deep breath, hands on hips and a frown on her face.

  "For Christ's sake. Don't you know what it is to worry about someone, to wonder where they are, if something has happened to them or something. Can't you understand. What kind of misery that can be. Where were you.''

  "I got lost on Staten Island.''

  "Don't hand me that shit.''

  "I'll go."

  "Boy one of these times I'm going to let you go and not ask you back. I could kill you. You were probably screwing some little cheap cunt. Like that Miss Musk throwing her ass all around that funeral parlor.''

  Fanny sinking with a sigh in her big fat white sofa. Christian slowly turning the magazine pictures of lavish jewelled and gowned women. A loose old photograph in between the pages. Faded brown and cracked at the edges. Man standing on a stoop. A bell in his hand, a wheel in a wooden frame slung over his back. Big ears sticking from the woven cap on his head. Christian holding out the picture.

  "Who's this."

  "My husband. He sharpened people's knives door to door. He started out as nothing."

  ''You're sorry he's dead now.''

  "Maybe."

  "I see."

  "He had the good manners to tell me if he was going to be away all night."

  ''Screwing dolls in a dozen different hotels."

  "He earned it pretty boy.''

  "Don't call me pretty boy.''

  "Pretty boy."

  "Don't call me pretty boy.''

  "I could kill you."

  "Lot of people in this town been trying to do that.''

  Christian opening his black smooth wallet. Removing two photos. One full length, the other close up. Of Cornelius reposed angelic in a Vine coffin. Standing and crossing to Fanny to hold them down in front of her face.

  "Here. Here I am. Dead."

  A flash of agony across Fanny's eyes as she looks and slaps them out of Christian's hand.

  ''Get them god damn pictures out of here.''

  Cornelius picking them up. Putting them back in his wallet. Turning and walking to the wall. To view this bird hanging by its feet upside down with its blue, grey and black plumage. Says Crown Prince Eudolph's bird of paradise.

  "O god Cornelius, I didn't mean to do that I'm sorry, they just scare me those pictures. Lately I don't know, my head is tired all the time. In this lousy dump alone. I just wanted you to take me with you. You're so young. I'm so damn unhappy. Marry an old guy with a lot of money. Then he'd die. And I'd be rich. That's what I used to think.''

  '"And you did and you 're rich.''

  "I'm rich."

  "What's the matter then.''

  "You. You show up here for what you can get and then you'll beat it. Will you marry me.''

  "What."

  "Is that what you say. What."

  Fanny Sourpuss, her hands tightening diamond glittering fingers. Digging into the upholstery of her chair. She stares out across the early morning at Cornelius Christian. Three shots ring out. Down in the street. And a fourth. As she jumps to her feet, fists clenched and shaking.

  "What was that Cornelius.''

  "Gunfire."

  "It's so early."

  "Early gunfire."

  "Was it down in the street.''

  "Yes down in the street.''

  Fanny crossing the carpet, her negligee swirling. Hair on her shoulders. Marriage a prison. Where you do what she tells you. For the money she married.

  ''O god, three guys are laid out. Three guys.'J

  Fanny pressing close to Christian as they kneeled and watched. Turning to kiss him on the cheek. Her fingers picking an embedded pine needle from his coat. As the sirens converge from all the distant empty streets. A breeze fluttering the curtain of the open window. Eleven green and white squad cars. Red lights flashing. Fanny's doorman rubbing where I flipped him on his ass and talking to the blue uniforms. Three tousled heads in pajamas sticking out of embassy windows. One looks up. Give him a wave. And he doesn't think I 'm funny or friendly.

  In the dawn light ambulances took the prostrate away. Fanny's brooding eyes watching me undress for bed. Still hear faint sirens. After this long day. Of this sulky fidgety city. Where strangers sleep awake the other side of all the walls. And die dead and vanished quick. Out of minds and memories. Leave not a spook. Pulled the building down where our mother died. And my little brother and I stood and whispered. That she was in the sight of god. She coughed through the nights. My uncle from Rockaway kissed her in her coffin. Tears running down his face. They pulled him away sobbing and his arms clutched around himself. She had ringlets of blond curls. So thin and her veins big and blue. Fanny's hands folded on the sheet pulled tip over her breasts. Soon as she sees my prick her lips begin to move. Quiver to think she lies there my mother. Without my father who was a grey dark shadow. Hung his hat and coat on the back of the door. Saw him a last time when he came with a bottle of whiskey where our mother lived freezing with a stove in the middle of the room. She dried wash above the chimney that stuck out a hole in the window. That looked out on a wall you could touch. Drink was in my father's blood my uncle said, and I heard him tell my mother, I love you Nan. He took my brother and me and bought us black new suits with short pants and black shiny ties. I stood on the grey stoop of the undertakers. Around the corner from the outdoor jewelry market. Wanted everyone to see how nice and dressed up I was. Only an old pig tailed Chinaman noticed. And he gave me a strange lump of candy. Fanny trembles as I come near. Closes her eyes. Put a hand upon her hair. Marry and be rich. Stay free and be poor. Money was always something nobody had. Till my uncle sent us where he said there was fresh air and woods to play. Meager got to be my friend when his mother died. He taught me to have nerve. Against the whole bad world. Where everything was lies. I told him how I pushed a nickel into one of these machines where you had a little derrick to pick up a harmonica and all I got was a chocolate malted ball. We played hooky together in a broken building. His father was away, an engineer on the telephone poles. And after school Meager made his own spaghetti. And washed his own plate when he was finished. He said praying to god was a waste of time. That nuns put candles up themselves. And priests pulled their pricks. That's why they had such big white handkerchiefs. He said everybody at school thought I was dumb but he knew I was smart. We smoked cigarettes in under the eaves of a deserted factory. Meager folded his feet and said that he wasn't going to be ordered around by anybody. That teachers wouldn't do it. Or policemen. Or any other god damn person there was. He combed his hair straight back and parted it in the middle. Said I was small but the toughest fighter he ever knew. That my fists came out so fast you couldn't see them. He told me about screwing girls. You throw them down on the ground in the weeds. That's what they were for and they should clean the house, wash the dishes and let you sit in a big comfortable chair doing nothing. Also they should keep their mouths shut till you wanted them to say something. But what they did was look for rich boys to marry so they could do nothing. Except hang around the house with cups of coffee. And his father hired an ex nurse to clean. Meager made a hole from the attic down into the bathroom. Saturday we watched her floating face up in the tub. When the water wet the hair down between her legs. Meager said that's the slit where you stick
it in. Later we visited guys with sisters and Meager would make holes in their attics to peek through. And everybody sat around jerking off. In attics all over the neighborhoods. It was raining sperm. Till someone's mother started taking a bath. And there was a fight. The kid said I'm not going to let you look at my mother. Meager held him choking in a head lock. They wrestled around till plaster fell out of the ceiling on the mother down in the tub. Outside we ran for three miles. And hid in the woods. The kid's father went cruising by looking in his car. Meager said he liked the mother because she had such big ones. And that we were lucky not to have mothers. Because what if we wanted to screw them and then had babies who became our brothers. The hollow cheeks of Fanny's face as she sucks. Little girls used to wipe their mouths off after kissing me. Because I wasn't so hot looking. But Meager said I would make out swell in the dark at the gang bang we would have for graduation. You wouldn't know whose leg or nipple you had in your mouth. And in the dictionary they called it perversion. Fanny reaches out. Her expensive grip. To take my balls in the palm of her jewelled hand. Take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife. Who has her hair done every day. And bought a building which had the first double elevators in New York. Who sells a whole street of tenements. And has seven plants throbbing out textiles. To have and to hold. While she gets richer. And I get a worn cock. Till death do you part. And your prick falls off in heaven. Where wealth is useless in the utter happiness. When on earth it can save you from so much hell. Fuck me Fanny groans. On hot high school summers she used to lie naked on her bed. Wondering what the rich were doing. Said she had the windows open. Could hear old Mr Pribble whispering trying to beg a screw out of his wife, twelve feet away between the houses. Cornelius when I was a little girl that old scrawny fart put his hand up my dress. I wanted anyone to love me. Tried to kill myself. Cut my wrists. If only I had met you thirteen years ago. Before I ruined myself. Because I thought there would never be anything better. And if there wasn't I didn't want to live. Felt I was just standing in an empty train station. After all the people and the trains were gone.

  Christian nuzzling his head and kissing his lips into the neck of Fanny Sourpuss. Holds part of me up inside her. So softly enwrapped. Her world dying as mine lives. Legs are the last of a woman to go down the byways of age. Cornelius listen to me. With money you can pay the price of anything you want. A face lift or love. Sleep till ten in the morning or two in the afternoon. You know that out there stacked up in the vault are stocks shares and bonds paying dividends. And you always own a gun to shoot yourself if they don't. I've got all these god damn lawyers. Don't know who's worse, them or the blackmailing relatives, who before I was rich hollered I was a hooker. Now they want me to buy them grain silos and finance operations on their ass holes. I need you Cornelius. A girl doesn't want to be alone in this world.

 

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