"Yes. Everybody should get down and scrub their floors. And their stoops. Eight out to the sidewalks. Also keep their ass holes clean. And carry a machine gun.''
"Gee I'm a little nonplussed by your candour Cornelius. You're not a kind of subversive are you. You know the other day, what you said about your own father. That hit me hard. But I 've been thinking too. About what you said about Mr Mott. It's true, he comes into a room and says what the hell he wants to say. With no regard for somebody's feelings. I bought a pair of golf shoes once in a lunchtime sale. Was trying them on when he walked into my office. Didn't even wait for me to explain. Says where did you get those crazy pointy two tone shoes. As if I was wearing them all the time. It wasn't the way he said crazy, it was the way he said those words pointy two tone. I was disparaged. Well let's drink to that one."
Howard in fluffy red socks. The mahogany lustre of his loafers. Putting his hand to his straight sided glass and tossing back the hootch. A lady working in the kitchen with a dark complexion. Standing over the stove. Gave me a little nod and smile as I peeked in the serving hatch. Gave her the hi sign of one undesirable to another.
"Guess Cornelius, it's come to the fact that you can take a shower, shave, comb your hair, put on a clean shirt, get in a new car. And not one thing makes you look like a bum. But you stop to watch a red winged black bird in a vacant lot, and suddenly a squad car sails up to question you. Police tell you to drive on, you're loitering. I'm not knocking our way of life. It's got to be like that I guess with some of the best homes these days being shot up and their inmates murdered. Maybe something has gone wrong with our values. You soul search and ask yourself what kind of an assessment can I make as a dad to tell my kids. That they're going to grow up into a holocaust of dirty deals. I can't tell them that. It's not that I'm asking my kids Cornelius to get on their knees at night and chant god bless America. But holy shit, pardon my f rench, when are we going to emerge into a calm sunny peace of the kind that this sort of neighborhood should have. Chrissakes you wake up one morning and you're living next to a distillery. You know don't you, there isn't another living soul I could talk to like this. Hey let me kind of freshen up your drink there kiddo. Libate a bit."
How pouring out his pineapple flavoured mixture, stretching back in his chair with his glass raised towards a corner of the room. End of his cigarette lights up as he sucks in a lungful of smoke.
"See that fishing rod, Cornelius. Well strictly between us. You know what my ambition is. To one day tell them to shove the whole god damn Mott empire. And buy myself a little old general store somewhere way out in the sticks and just go fishing. And not be troubled by all these conflicting emotional pulls. There, there, did you hear that. That's that bullfrog. Croaking. He's come back. Isn't that sound wonderful.''
Two little sandy haired boys and a tiny dark big eyed little girl. In a procession. For a hand shake. And wave goodnight in their matching blue kimonos and yellow slippers from the top of the stairs. And with candles lit on the dining table, Mrs How in a long clinging mauve gown.
"There she is Cornelius, isn't my wife something."
Asparagus and shrimp salad. Howard smilingly pouring out a bottle of white wine. And smashing back his own concoction between sips. Tipsily saying, Cornelius, you got to stay the night. Send that chauffeur away. Be my revered guest. We got a whole god damn rambling guest and bathroom right in there next to my den. And I went out. Looking left and right in the dark for any guy toting a gat. Told Glen who was snoring fast asleep behind locked doors in the limo's air conditioning, to head back to Manhattan. And he said Mrs Sourpuss's instructions were to wait, to take you home.
"And my instructions are, and I won't god damn well tell you twice, is to beat it."
''You bet Mr Christian. You bet."
Nice to wipe your hands of a chauffeur. And watch the shadowy limo blazing red rear lights glide softly away down the street. Come back up on this hilly little lawn. See the domestic warmth glowing in the windows. Hear a door close across through the trees. And a nervous shout. Is that you Hector.
A decanter of milk on the white table cloth. Howard said it put the fire out when the hootch in his belly got hot. Mrs How handing round the salads and choice of two home made dressings. Heaped bowl of steaming corn cobs. Plate of sliced red and yellow tomatoes. Sprinkled with herbs and wiped with garlic. All out of Howard's garden. As the bugs bang against the screens to get to the candle light.
"Cornelius, Jean's my own real pal. Aren't you Jean.''
''Howard you 're drinking too much.''
"No I'm not, this is a celebration. Like hot dickety dick, it's Saturday and I'm going to tie one on tonight. Eight Cornelius. And we're going to scrub down our front stoop. Just like you say. And I'm going to ask that policeman over there if we can try some of that wop's moonshine. What about that Cornelius."
"Yes fine, Mr How."
"Ah Cornelius I hope you've still got the old umph pa pa. And none of this Mr How business. Now you just chew off them there golden kernels from that cob. Use your fingers. I know when I hear the old umph pa pa from somebody. And Europe, Cornelius, has taken away your old umph pa pa."
''Howard what have you been drinking.''
"Umph pa pa, that's what. Good old pal, Jean. And Cornelius. My boy Cornelius. Boy do you get old Quell hot under the collar. I love the way he comes fuming in to me sometimes shaking and quivering, get that damn Christian out of my department, he says. I keep telling him I can't do a thing, that you're one of Mr Mott's proteges and very close, really close and an old, old friend of the family/'
"Howard stop, that's not fair to talk like this about the office that way to Mr Christian. You 've had too much to drink.''
"Now Jean, what are we scared of. Good old pal, Jean. Prom a good old Virginia family Cornelius, on her mother's side that is. Married beneath herself. Just like her mother did."
"Have some of your milk Howard.''
"No Jean I will not have some of my milk. I will have some of my brew. How's the boy Cornelius. How's the boy. Imagine a whole distillery. I called John my broker. Told him. Said John what about the property value. He said Howard, don't worry that could be an invitation to serious industry right on your doorstep.''
"And you stole that ladder, Howard."
"I did like hell, I just carried it over to us, that's all. Make something for the kids to climb on. They won't be needing it again."
"That was stealing."
"What. From a bunch of crooks. Besides the cop on duty said I could take it. Sure, I slipped him a couple of bucks. It was being used illicitly to climb among the wop's god damn pipes."
''And don't say wop. That's not nice.''
"Wop wop, wilyo, ginney. I mean that damn guy has slandered the neighborhood. But boy I'll give him one thing, he minded his own god damn business. In fact he was the best neighbor we've ever had. Had kind of fine characteristics in his face. Like Cornelius there. Not like some of the places we've lived with the next door guys behaving like tarzans out in their backyards trying to mow their lawns in two seconds to make an impression on Jean.''
"You've got such an imagination Howard."
"What about that son of a bitch who swung off on the end of his god damn clothes line from his bedroom window in leopard skin tights."
"He was sick Howard."
"He was a god damn peeping torn that's what he was. And we had to move away. And that other bastard standing naked at his window every morning so you could see him.''
"He was a child, a mere boy.''
"O boy, some boy. I mean I won't go into it. Yes, I will. I'll go into it. And boy that boy. I'll be frank. That son of a bitch had a whopper.''
"Well Mr Christian, I hope you're not going to think that this is the way we live and behave all the time. Howard's just putting on a show of manliness. As a kind of contrast. Because he thinks you're so. Well I don't know how to say it.''
"Say it, Jean, say it. Cultivated. Isn't that the word you want."
<
br /> "Well if you like. That's why there's wine. We never drink wine. But I guess we put on airs just like everybody else tries to."
"Cornelius, honey, is just the product of immigrants, I've told you. But what he's got, nobody in this city's got. Not Mott. Not anybody. I don't know, we live in trying times. Where there used to be wilderness and god's natural wonders, now we enjoy hamburger joints, gas stations, utility poles and used car lots. Everywhere they're tearing down the old elegance. Maybe the only remnants left now and isn't this true Cornelius, you find in the funeral business.''
''Well I guess that's right.''
"And Mr Christian what do you know about the funeral business."
"Cut that out now, that's taboo, Jean. That's Cornelius's own little personal private history. We've been through all that. Ask him about his mom and dad."
"Can I ask you about your mom and dad Mr Christian.''
"Yes, by all means. Do."
"Well who were they.''
"They were nobody. And they both died when I was quite young. Or at least I thought my father did. And I guess he's dead now. He thought he was some kind of actor. He wore spats. White ones. Carried a cane. And checkered caps and knicker-bockers. He could tap dance. My uncle, a simple man, loved my mother and had a building business, he lived in Bockaway and I guess gave my little brother and I some of the advantages.''
"How romantic Mr Christian. I mean, somehow I don't want to sound patronizing, but that's beautiful."
"My mother took in washing, did sewing, I guess scrubbed her fingers to the bone. When my uncle took my brother and I away from the tenement district to a better neighborhood I was ostracised. And as I grew up, with my beauty unseen in my heart, rich socially superior girls ignored me."
"There you are Jean, let him tell it. That's the kind of country it is. Boy it's time for some of us who question to stand up and be counted."
''Sit down Howard. Mr Christian is just kidding."
"Hell I'm going to stand up. No one's kidding me. And toast one. To Cornelius. Whoops."
"You've spilt that sticky stupid drink of yours all over the table Howard."
"O we'll mop it up, mop it up. Pill up another. Need any more. Just slip over there to the distillery. Home home on the range. Where the antelope play. Where the god damn coyotes howl. And the suburban sprawl flows free. I'm a poet. Could have been a moose too. My father belonged to the loyal order of moose. Now, a toast. To Cornelius. Who rose triumphant out of Brooklyn and the Bronx with that ritzy accent. Welcome to my home. Now that time you said. Or you wrote on your little pad. That not everything was swell out here. That's what you wrote Cornelius. Now let me tell you. What more in life does a guy want. With his little kiddies safely tucked up there in bed."
''You hope they are Howard.''
"Don't interrupt Jean. And those kids growing up a hell of a lot smarter than I am. Going to go to the best colleges. I got a beautiful wife. Jean there could have swirled across the silver screen. Now Hector across the street. O k, let's face it, his wife has got some shape. But nothing like Jean's. Jean stand up."
"You sit down."
"I said stand up Jean. Let Cornelius see. The most beautiful wife in this purlieus. Sure, right in the god damn purlieus, and I know it. Guys' tongues are hanging out at every barbecue."
"I'm sitting right where I am Howard and you better take it easy. I hate to tell you what you're going to be like in the morning. In this purlieus. Moaning and blaming me that I didn 't stop you. So I 'm telling you to stop now.''
"Jean's right, I'm real shook up next morning, but boy I'm sure real happy tonight. And there you sit, your parents come off the boat like cattle. And you grow up privileged. As if you were really somebody. And I ask, why are you letting your country down. Why. After your mother and father got their start here. You beat it to Europe. To lotus eat. So all right, they took a few knocks. And got knocked out. But this country for all its faults is where the story is. This is where the big pimple is going to bust Mankind is working things out for himself right here in the capital of the world. And yes, go ahead smile, Christian. And part of the problem solving in that capital goes on in the Think Room of the Mott empire. You're a traitor to the capital. A god damn traitor. That's what you are Cornelius. With that phony accent and aloofness. Why don't you behave like an American, like the rest of us. You think you're too good for us. You didn't even graduate from college. And did you even serve your country buddy. Were you there when the salvos were slamming the yellow foe."
"Stop it Howard, stop it. You're being hostile and unfair to Mr Christian."
"Keep out of this Jean. Let me ask him, right here and now. Did you serve your country.''
"Well yes I did."
"And did they give you benefits when the war was over.''
"Yes they did."
"And what did you do. You took those benefits to Europe. To the scallywags and French. Well anyway I'd like to be your friend. Only you ought to wise up. Whose chauffeur is that you've got. What kind of monkey shines are you up to. Don't think you can pull anything over on me. Don't you ever think that. Hey the table is swaying.''
"You 're swaying Howard.''
"Holy mackerel. Subversion. Under the table. While I'm speaking out on the issues and uncovering the facts. Some bastard is always shaking your guidelines. And you know, I don't think you've ever known Mr Mott from a hole in the wall. I just think you by accident ended up at one of his son's foolish parties, that's what I think.''
"Howard, leave Mr Christian alone. You're just saying that because you've never been invited.''
Howard How, perspiration on his brow, pointing with an unsteady finger. Which he pulls back from the candle flame with a smell of burning finger nail. Mrs How with her lips compressed, small fists placed either side of her plate. Want to ask for another helping of salad. Because it doesn't look as if we're ever going to get to the raspberry sherbet.
"Hail to victory. Go team go. Umph pa pa. Second string quarter back. That was me. When I was in high school. I was too light when I got to college. Who's that sitting over there. That you, Jean. Scrub the stoop. I'm going right over now to that distillery."
''No you 're not Howard.''
"Who's going to stop me. You think because you've got that punk Christian with the fistic reputation. The Think Boom boys might be scared but you don't frighten me. Try to stop me. You just dare."
Howard How stumbling towards a pair of doors behind drapes leading out somewhere. Bumping his knee on a radiator. Holding it with his hands as his jaw twists with agony. And wipes it away with a new smile.
"Ha tricked you, tricked both of you. You didn't think I was going to leave you alone, the two of you did you. And while my back was turned, how do I know lover boy wouldn't try something funny with my little old wife.''
"Howard why don't you shut the hell up. You invite Mr Christian out here. And insult him. And I'm finding it an awful bore. Do you understand. Two can play this game. Here you are Cornelius, let's both have a good stiff brandy."
"Well then goodbye. Goodbye to both of you. It's off to the distillery we go, hi ho.''
"Well go ahead and god damn well go hi ho to the distillery then."
"I 'm going, don't you think I 'm not.''
A voice singing out under the trees. A window slamming shut. Mrs How in her mauve raiment. Over the merest of mounds. Cock back her arm and her muscle might go pop. Never thought wide assed How behind his pair of glasses had a stunning wife. A gem unearthed in the dead center of Queens. Smelling fresh of soap and faint gardenias.
"Mr Christian I'm really sorry. Please don't take Howard too seriously. What can I get you.''
"O I'm fine thanks really."
"Come on, let's both admit it. You're not enjoying this. Sad thing is Howard means what he's saying. He really resents you.
I can't understand it. Because he talks about you so much.''
"I understand Mrs How.''
"Your continued politeness is very nic
e. But the evening did get just that little bit ugly.''
"Is he safe out there.''
"O yes, to cover thirty yards. So long as he doesn't break a leg in the children's sandpit. And the policeman on duty doesn't shoot him. I've got fresh coffee ready. Would you like it with your brandy."
"That would be fine."
"You didn't know it, did you, Howard has a small drinking problem. He was very bright in college. In fact he was brilliant. And in spite of our having all the good things, he feels sometimes he's not made anything out of his life.''
''Do you like it here, Mrs How.''
"It's nice for the children. But I'd rather live, and I guess it sounds crazy, in a ghetto. About ten o'clock some mornings this can be like the frozen wastes of Antarctica. But you don't tell your husband that. When he's finished complaining about taxes. That you're going nuts out of your mind in this sylvan setting."
Her hair shining in the candle light. And glinting in her big black eyes. Dip a nose into this brandy. To the sweet mellowness, pale, gold and old. From another land they call France. Dog barks. See Mrs How's silver slipper. Her pale nailed toes wiggle. On antelope ankles.
''Can I ask you a really personal question, Cornelius.''
"Yes."
"O I better not, you'll think I'm being risque."
"O no."
"Well then I'll ask you. Because I've always wondered. Can a dead female if she were good looking and young. O god I shouldn't ask."
"Ask."
"Well if she were there, lying on a slab, could she arouse you."
"Well Mrs How, I don't know, it's not that it's a trade secret or anything but there are those who might think it unethical to remark upon."
"O come on, tell me, it's one of the few things I ever really wanted to know."
"Well, the answer is I guess, that you do rather size people up and of course, the supply of beautiful dead young women is not too plentiful, but even in death a woman can have a certain attraction."
A Fairy Tale of New York Page 29
