A Fairy Tale of New York

by J. P. Donleavy

  Each Friday with my cashed paycheck I counted out another ten dollars for my ticket back across the sea. Took some pills for the relief of occasional simple nervous tension. And vomited. Finally saw a composed face on the subway train. And looked down at the lady's luggage. To get an address from where she came or where she was going. And it said Devon, England. And I nearly sobbed.

  The guys in the Think Room talking about dolls and dates, all sporting shoes with the broad toe while mine were still medium and narrow. A particular smooth smarty ass from Spuyten Duyvil and Yale said what's a matter Christian, you trying to be out of step. And I scribbled my little note on a yellow Mott memo pad.

  YES AND SHUT UP BEFORE I BREAK YOUR PARROT HEAD.

  Kept cleaning out my desk. Mr Quell came stood over me and said just before he had to rush back again to the crapper.

  "You do all those little things, don't you Christian, that will get you absolutely nowhere."

  And one cheery moment one late afternoon looking for mail, caught a glimpse of Fat Cheeks turning the corner of my block. Miss seeing him all the time I 'm away. He was getting competition on the east side of the park. A bald bearded man, dancing with a sign in front of the Fifth Avenue steps down to the zoo.

  I AM THE WORLD'S LEADING EXPERT ON THE NURSING MADONNA

  When I saw Fat Cheeks again. I was strolling down Columbus Avenue. Wasting more of the Mott Empire's time. By sizing up the crazy architecture of this town. And lo and behold there he was in front of a mattress store, with a sign of big pink letters on white.

  DON'T BE A MEANIE ANY MORE

  Sneaked looks at Fanny as she lay awake all through the night. Asked her what she was thinking. Said she was thinking about once when she worked in a dry cleaners. Stacks of the filthiest clothes shoved at you all day over a counter. The dirtiest dirtiest job in the world. Jesus it was dirty. My hands were black. At dawn she'd pass off to sleep. Never lets me out of her sight. And when my prick wouldn't go up. She made her two hard little white fists and shook them at the sides of her head.

  ''You don't love me, you don't love me.''

  Tried to get out of the bed. Slipping from under the sheet. As we both slept way past noon. One wondered what the fuck was wrong with the women of this country. Reached to comfort her with a friendly little pat on her tit.

  "Get your god damn hands off me if you're spending the god damn day out in Brooklyn.''

  "Forest Hills."

  "It's all the same. One ass hole of the world is the same as another. Brooklyn, Canarsie, Elmhurst, a whole bunch of rubes with their little nicy nice wives patting their little baby's asses with talcum powder out in the sticks.''

  "Queens has some very favoured residential districts.''

  "It has shit."

  "I thought you liked it the day I took you to Bockaway."

  "Cornelius, I did, I did. But then god damn it. What do you want me to say when you start calling out Marigold in your sleep."

  "That's a flower."

  "That's a god damn girl's name too. Let Glen drive you.''

  "I can go on the subway."

  "How do I know that's where you 're going.''

  "Because that's where I'm going. Howard How invited me."

  ''Why don't you quit that god damn two bit job.''

  ''I want to keep my dignity. And Mr How has faith in me.''

  "Dignity my ass. I saw your notes and sheets of paper you write all over. Making believe you can't talk anymore.''

  "I've got to. Because every day they're trying to figure out a way to fire me."

  "Christ Cornelius, don't fool with me. I can make you rich. With just a signature. Give you everything you want. Don't be stupid."

  "What about all those guys you 've fooled around with.''

  "They were one night stands. Those guys are a dime a dozen."

  "Did you pay them.''

  "That's a dirty low remark. I can have any man I want. Paying me. Anything I ask. Lined up they'd go right round the equator. What the hell ever made me think I could do you a favour. You can be such a snotty kid. Throw me my cigarettes. Last night you couldn't even get it up. I know you're screwing someone else. And if I ever catch you I 'll kill you both,''

  And these times on her face, she'd lick her lips, as a smile would come.

  "Gee I like talking about what I would do to the cunt I catch you with. Twist her tits. Crush in the toes of her shoes. Pull her hair out in such big nice marvelous lumpfuls. Scratch her all over face like a gorilla was drying it with barbed wire. But o jesus, is the boogey man going to get me. Is he going to, Cornelius."

  Fanny lay stiff and silent. In her semi tropical interior. Showed me the stack of letters Sourpuss's first wife wrote. To all her relatives, mother and father. To Bergdorf Goodman, Tiffany's and Santa Glaus.

  Dear Neighbor or Store Owner,

  I just feel so sorry for you that Fanny Jackson that hooker and cheap whore was raised on your street or shops in your store. Now running around with my husband whose money she is trying to get to run up more of her bills. And staying with him in hotels. You have my sympathy for that kind of neighbor or customer you got.

  Just believe a friend.

  I wore my Vine Funeral Parlor suit. With the cool light weight drape. In last night's paper they said that was the look that was in. And a dark green knit tie. Thrown to me by Fanny out of Mr Sourpuss's collection. With the uncustomary stiff white collar and non matching blue and green striped shirt. Sitting back in the limozine's air conditioning. Patting the brand new cow hide. With the chauffeur's window closed. And Glen grinding his usual gum. Cruising out towards Flatbush in the late cooler afternoon. Over the bridge. Down through the grimy factories. Along Queens Boulevard. The stacks and stacks of apartment houses. Boxes and boxes of little homes down all the crosshatched streets. Never went back to the delicatessen. Took blueberry pie and cold milk instead in the window of the automat on my favourite hill on Fifty Seventh Street. Met the man again who played chess in the park. Listened as I chewed my crust.

  "You know sir, the big lies that go floating around this country, and the people, they know those big lies and they keep getting all added together and they hang over the whole place in a big poisonous cloud. And one day that cloud's going to get so heavy it's going to sink right down and smother everybody right all over this land.''

  Out there New Calvary Cemetery. Where one went in happier days burying the dead. Stones stick up over their souls. While those alive are still shoving and pushing. And wearing that look, don't touch me or you'll get an electric shock. Last week went out and thought what the hell why don't I go a little nuts for awhile. Sidled up to various overweight ladies. Stopped them with my best accent in their predatory tracks. And with a whisper. Madam, be assured that I am not inclined to either rob or rape you, but would like merely to ask, are you by any chance surrounded by an erogenous zone. One smiled and said sure I am and a good looking young man like you can penetrate it any time. Encouraged, to the next lady I voiced a most unforgivable thing, and she promptly dropped her shopping and screamed for a cop. Whole place builds up in you. Little towers of discontent. Topple over in a rubble of broken dignities. Carry it all full of pain. Like how all these folk stand and stare as we drive by. Through their most crummy neighborhood. Goodbye Woodside. Hello Forest Hills. If only I could be a son. Just as there are daughters. Of the American Revolution. Instead of being coughed up here on the shore. From a pair of simple immigrants. Who never knew what the hell hit them. I tried to make pennies from the neighbors down on the stoop in the street as soon as I could speak. White skin of my mother seemed blue underneath when she died. As her blood was brown on the sheets when it dried. Never spanked or hit me. Always said I was a quiet little boy. And when my second foster mother caught me. Pulling my prick into her dictionary. Trying to land sperm on the dirty words. She said I'll slap you I'll slap you, you dirty little thug. Wasn't long before I was putting earthworms in her spaghetti, and had a hole in her bathroom wall, wat
ching her take a bath. Shoved my little brother naked out into the hall. To give her a fright with his hard on. She got sweaty faced and started screaming, they're doing it deliberately to me. And boy I'll say I was. All you have to be is a little kid and you soon find out how lousy big people are. Then when you start growing up good looking in the neighborhood, the neighbors make believe their rotten dirty looks and shouts they gave you all your life, never happened. Good to start getting fantastically handsome and to watch them grow old and deserve all that they're getting. And on Independence Day, toll that big bell. When it rings, each red blooded citizen will step out of his door. Walk up to his neighbor. Howdy do, how you doing pardner. And punch him one in the kisser. In honor of all neighborhood loathings. That upon this day no undesirables are running over their lawn. Or bog trotters wiping asses with shamrocks. Or polacks goosing his dogs. Or bohunks the other side of the tracks pissing on their dishes in their sink. Just a lot a swell kids standing howling in tears as their big bellied daddies beat the shit out of each other.

  "This is the address Mr Christian. Number's on that sign on the lawn."

  ''O k. Pull over and wait. If I 'm long I 'll tell you.''

  "You bet Mr Christian, take all the time you want, there's a good ball game on the radio. Even got a book on judo, thought I'd learn some of your tricks. Couldn't be happier. Have a nice afternoon."

  Christian stepping up these moss green steps. A crescent path of crazy paving across the lawn. Tall oaks and elms. Blue spruce trees on either side of the rustic door and the stone porch. Dark inside the screened windows. Must be the wop's house over there with, good lord, a policeman at the front door.

  Chimes ringing as Christian presses the little white button. Cross section of varnished log, says Jean and Howard live here. Little freckled faced kid charging round the side of this gabled slate roofed cozy house. Pulling a red wagon. Beneath the great shady trees. Wop's three car garage with a big driveway under the side of his house. Hear light steps. The floor squeaks. Red dress through the dulled copper screen door. Which opens. Slender fingered hands wiping an apron. Two big bright dark eyes. In the heart of a face. On a delicate little body.

  "You must be Cornelius Christian."

  "Yes I am."

  "Well please, you sure are welcome, do come in. Howard is just out back hammering, making a climbing ladder for the kids. I 've heard so much about you."

  Umbrella stand. Two pairs of galoshes waiting for winter. On the red tiled floor. Cool and dark. Into a big blue carpeted living room. Under an archway a table set to dine. Mrs How's legs delicate shapely stems. All tanned. Hues of white either side of her achilles tendon. Small neat ass like a pair of ball bearings under her thin red dress. That makes me gulp.

  "Please take a seat. I apologise for those stupid comic books all over the place. I'll tell Howard. Like some iced tea."

  ''Yes I Would, please ma 'am."

  "You're so polite, just like Howard said, with ma'am and all. You just sit yourself down now."

  Howard beaming in. Hand outstretched. Pair of kaki trousers, open necked white shirt, sleeves rolled up. And a pair of blue sneakers. Just like Fanny's who calls them yatching boots.

  "Hi Cornelius I thought you were going to call me from the station for me to come down and meet you. Did you walk."

  "I came in a car."

  "Didn't know you could drive. Hey good, why that's great you 're talking again.''

  "Yes. I can't drive. I was driven."

  "Have they gone.''

  "No."

  ''Why don't you ask your friend to come in.''

  "It's a chauffeur."

  "A what"

  "A chauffeur."

  "Come on, you're kidding me Cornelius."

  "No."

  "Well I'll be damned. Let me take a look. That big grey job."

  "Yes."

  "That's custom made. That's not yours.''

  "Well let's say I just have certain things available to me.''

  "I was never deceived by you, Cornelius. Always thought you were one of these ivy league kids from a rich background. The neighbors are going to think you're somebody big. Gives me a kick to see that parked out there. With these sons of bitches around here getting a load of it. Ah, Jean, you've met the genius."

  "Yes I have. Howard push the table over a little for Mr Christian. Few crackers here too, but don't want you to spoil any appetites."

  Mrs How, sinews of her arm flexing as she puts down the tray. Came with a sheaf of paper to write my notes. Blew the gaff right off the bat soon as I saw her strange beauty at the opening screen door. Sent a flush of blood between my legs. Pronto made me say yes I am.

  "Cornelius let me tell you. Chrissakes.''

  ''Don't keep using that word Howard.''

  "I'm excited. Hey, feel at home, take your jacket off Cornelius."

  "No. That's all right, thanks.''

  "Well anyway I think you are some kind of genius Cornelius. The whole front page of this morning's paper. Happened just yesterday afternoon. Twenty squad cars came roaring down the street. Wowie. The whole block surrounded. Isn't that right Jean. They went tip that guy's crazy paving with guns drawn. You know what was going on in there, you'll never believe it, I mean you will believe it. A god damn twenty thousand gallon still, just what you said. Damn thing's copper, two stories high, took out the floor, pipes and vats going all over the place. Remember once saying, didn't I Jean, that the guy must be lush by the smell sometimes came from his house. Cornelius, how did you know."

  "Just said the first thing that came into my mind.''

  "Well I'm going to leave you two boys while I feed my two boys and girl and fix dinner.''

  Mrs How wiping her hands on her apron. A big blue leafed flower with a yellow center. Got to stop the thoughts I'm thinking. Avert my eyes from the tanned silky smoothness of her face. And lips big and soft. Thought I saw her lick them as she came into the room. In fact I know damn tootin she did. And her ball bearing ass swivel as she went out.

  "Well you know Cornelius, I tell you, I don't mind Italians but I'm sure glad to get rid of that wop. He's the kind of guy who gets over emotional and kills rather than discusses. I was becoming a candidate for depression like the guy across the street. I mean he's still smiling, but he doesn't know that I know he's getting electroconvulsive therapy. This wop next door wouldn't mow his lawn or stop his god damn killer mutt from coming over and manuring ours. Would you believe it, last month he made one of the biggest contributions to our church building fund. Maybe when the grass on a guys lawn gets long you should get suspicious right away. Hey how about a little shot of vodka in your iced tea. I really feel that way today.''

  Howard pouring into Christian's held up glass. Sprigs of mint roll over, sink and rise again between the cubes of ice. Oily whorls eddy in the tan liquid.

  "Well Cornelius. So here you are. Driving around in a chauffeured car. Is that address of yours over in the west side a blind or something.''

  "Kind of."

  "You're just full of surprises. Belong to the Game Club Quell tells me. And I hear the tennis and squash courts they got are really something. Like to take up that game of squash. Jean says, I got a bit of a spare tire. By the way, I like what you're wearing."

  "Thank you."

  "You know Cornelius I'd like to brush up my personal defence. Time was when I came home in the evening I used to put my eyes down and imagine there were all kinds of wooded acres around me and no other houses. Now with this guy with a gat sneaking out of your shrubbery to take your god damn valuables off you and shoot you dead on your own front lawn, all I do is tremble around from the garage. I'd like to know how to stomp that son of a bitch."

  Howard How socking a fist into the palm of his hand. When I said I liked brandy he said let's go out and get the best. Backed out of his garage in his station wagon to the street. Where I said let me do the honors. And we piled into the limo and Glen cruised us along the winding streets. Howard squirming around in his
seat.

  "God dang Cornelius if this don't beat all and tickle me pink."

  Parked across the street from a local store. Where a real old timer was stocking good brandy and still slicing ham with a knife. And back again past these houses where it looks as if nobody lives. To Howard's den panelled in pine. A collection of pipes he never smokes. Said his street didn't curve as much as the others. But it had its share of big shots.

  "Come on Cornelius, let me play you some stuff. I got some real good recordings of real top notch composers. While Jean's putting the kids to bed.''

  How blaring out the music. Wants me to really get a load of the fine acoustics. And bruise my ear drums. Took a pee in the powder room inside the front door. Green fluffy rug on the black and white tiled floor. Big H on all the towels, light blue and pink flowered. A basin with two soaps to use. I freshened up as evening came with a cooling darkness. Little kids in off the streets. Lights on. And I guess machine guns ready. People moving in the kitchens of other houses. And Howard stirring his special drink. Kept mixed and waiting in the refrigerator all afternoon. Pours me a glass and sits down feeling his way with a hand behind him, all changed to a clean white shirt and loafers with a mahogany gleam. A shelf of books on business management. Three on fishing.

  "Cornelius, it's kind of good to have you come out here like this. Meet my wife and kids. Hear the katydids out there. Couple of years ago we even had a bull frog croaking. That's what a man sweats in the rat race for, so his kids can have it a little better than he did. But you wonder sometimes. Two days ago there was a praying mantis out there on the front lawn. A car full of passing roughnecks over from Woodhaven see it and they stop. And what do you think they did. They dropped a god damn rock on it. That's what they did. Bight on top of one of the most beneficial of mankind's insects. I went in the house and cried. I mean what do you do these days faced with the dilemma of what's right and wrong. What do you tell your own kids. I mean how are they to come to grips with the uncertainties. As a young guy in today's world do you have an answer Cornelius.''