A Singular Man (5 page)

"The canes please."

"I said I got two hundred, what do I know what they cost together."

"Write a round figure on a piece of paper."

"How do I know how much two hundred canes are worth."

"I'm not suggesting you rob yourself. A round figure."

"What are you trying to do to me."

"Write a satisfactory figure on a piece of paper. I will fetch a car and you get your bank to phone my bank."

"Certainly not. You can't make me write anything on a piece of paper what do you think this is."

"Dear me. You are amusing. Goodness. I can't believe it. Completely irresponsible. Utterly pig headed. Round figure. I repeat."

"Stop saying that."

"A simple thing like canes."

"Mister, before I ask you where you come from, why don't you just buy that jug, look, an antique thermometer, with one of these things tells you the weather. Never have to go outside, and you know it's raining. No insult, but it might suit you good."

"The instrument looks broken and rather battered to me."

"What do you expect. Antique."

"Canes."

"Can't you get off that subject. Look, here's a table that's got real foreign worm holes. That carving. Right up the leg, a craftsman did it"

"I'm particularly fascinated by carved canes."

"Do me a favour mister. Here's a doll, real hair. You could buy a carriage, push it around. I think it would make you feel better because. Look why this chair. Say I got it, here this brass pig. A round figure. Ha ha. That's a good one. How about this."

"Wrap it up."

"No kidding."

"No kidding."

"Mister thanks, thanks a lot. You sure had me worried. And for you I take ten percent off. And let for a change me repeat, thanks a lot and merry Christmas."

George attired in the double breasted suit of the cunning connoisseur, on top of which he wore a great coat with a bear fur collar. Leaving the hairy garment swinging open as he did business. Every little percent helps. And tucking up this brass omnivorous hoofed mammal, reminder of swine everywhere. Smith picked up polish and made it safely to Merry Mansions and past Hugo who pretended to read the early evening paper. Dolt.

Inside Flat Fourteen. Music from the sitting room. White scraps of dishes over the hall. To the left, master's quarters, to the right servant's. One hesitates wondering which way. Well, how do you like this.

"Matilda, I hate interrupting the music."

"Hey I didn't hear you come in Mr. Smith."

"I'd prefer Matilda, if you'd wear your uniform."

"What's the matter with what I'm wearing."

"It's what you're not wearing Matilda."

"O say that's cute, that's a little pig. Where did you get it. Gee Air. Smith let me feel it."

"Stand back''

"What's a matter Mr. Smith I just want to feel it. A real cute thing. Mr. Smith, you've been worrying again. I know you have. Yes, I see it. You don't fool me. You been to the antique shop to soothe your nerves, I know it. You sit right down there. Here have this pillow. Take your coat. Won't touch that pig. Been thinking Mr. Smith, I've got no right to interfere with your business life. No. I've got no right. That's not my place. My place is out there in that kitchen. And in here if necessary to make you comfortable. I just wanted to keep you calm. It's people who upset people. But I think, well, my place is the kitchen."

"I'm not disputing this little testimony, Matilda. But I come in and find you stretched out on the couch. Appreciate your selection of music. But just making clear you seem to have a place on the couch as well as a place in the kitchen."

"Mr. Smith the resounding crash of those plates in my ears this morning brought it home to me as I was nearly jumping out of my skin in which I was standing at the time, that me and you Mr. Smith shouldn't fall out like that, just like the dishes it cracks you up. I just know it does. Loving words that are kind and true, loving deeds and blessings too."

"I see."

"My job's to you. Building up the years of faithful service. To go on my record. That's something to be proud of. When they lay me down with the roses all around, lilies, that crazy wisteria, on top, right on that coffin, Mr. Smith, so's everyone can see it. That testimonial of the faithful years of service. At those gates, dig that testimonial big God. Note the sacrifice. What's that look, Mr. Smith. You sick."

"I want a bottle of sparkling white wine."

"Just let me touch this little pig once, Mr. Smith/9

"Get back."

"Gee you're mean. I only want to touch it. Gosh."

"Gee you're mean.

"In due course."

"In due course my ass."

"Watch the language."

"Slave cooking over a hot stove. Sure, you want olives. You go buy a barrel I got to stand smelling all day. You don't think of that. Hot chocolate drink at night. You find someone to do that. Let me touch your pig. I'm not going to kill it. Here you just feel me. Here come on. That's another thing. You think I'm fat, just feel here, solid I'm telling you."

"Get some ice in this bucket."

"Feel me, Mr. Smith."

"Feel me, "Back."

"It'll astound you. This thigh, Mr. Smith."

"Matilda."

"Feel, Mr. Smith."

"Our behaviour may be watched."

"What's a feel, Mr. Smith. Before you catch that train."

"A feel at this moment is foolish."

"Press here, Mr. Smith."

"Stop getting close."

"Show you it's not fat, Mr. Smith. Feel."

"My my."

"Told you Mr. Smith. Aren't you surprised."

"No one would ever know, how solid you are."

"That Miss Tomson's a bag of bones. Not a nice mattress like me. She tried to knee me, Mr. Smith. Right there. And you see her claws."

Out the window across the street a happy family having ham and cabbage. A mother, father, eight little kiddies. One kiddie getting a wallop across the mouth disappearing from view. He must wonder, that father, what it's like to be free of those burdens. Well mister, in the first place, its marvelous and in the second, again marvelous. See, put lips to the rim of this hand blown glass. Let the white grape have its timorous say on one's chops. My God he's looking at me in a resentful fashion.

"Matilda, draw the drapes."

George sat chewing the cud over matters. Unhappy memories. The vague muscle in Miss Tomson's arm and the last bang she gave the door and the black mounds of her rear. Is it wrong my mouth waters. Chime of a church steeple tolls seven. How the sound can get through the roar of traffic. Tomorrow morning awake early for a walk in the sun over the snow.

Goodbye to Matilda. Smith on his way out of Merry Mansions. Crossing the lobby just catching that reassuring polished look of himself in the mirror, when confronted by a gentleman just taking off his hat and taking a hanky to to wipe cold steam from his spectacles.

"I may have introduced myself before, I'm Mr. Stone, and of course you're Mr. Smith."

"Hello, Mr. Stone and goodbye, I'm catching a train. Compliments of the season, of course."

"Mind if we tarry a moment."

"Afraid I do."

"In that case might I quickly advise you of certain facts."

"No time for facts."

"In that case, I may have to insist. A crack is progressing up through the Goldminer's apartment. They are most disturbed by the appearance of this gulch in their wall since it undermines their confidence in the structure of the building which as you know my management has taken great care to keep sound and durable. I'm sorry to have to say such a thing to you, Mr. Smith, but the management likes to also give the impression of high tone. We feel the tone was kind of lowered by the noisy chase made up through the building."

"Merely, Mr. Stone, a rather boisterous end to a youth rally. Surely not objected to by any reasonable tenant. A good deal of my time is spent with the underprivileged."

"Mr. Smith it is my sad duty to inform you that while two tenants of the next building lay innocent in their bed and so far as we can judge by the information available, nearly asleep, they were stunned awake to find themselves covered in plaster."

"Lucky it was not -"

"Please don't say it Mr. Smith. I am human too and out for a laugh. But two innocent people of the next building were in their bed asleep and were stunned awake to find themselves covered in, please, plaster. Hugo was on duty. We have evidence members of your youth rally, which again, there's been some question about, that they leaped off the wall nearly going through to these people's bedroom. Luckily the general structure withtook the shock and only the ceiling collapsed."

"I gather there is a question of money."

"We shouldn't like to give that exact impression. But of course there is a certain question of satisfaction."

"My train. Bye bye."

"My train. Bye "Mr. Smith."

"Mr. Stone, bye bye, do I make myself clear."

"Mr. Smith you can't. My management has always been impressed by the respectful and high tone of your personal life. Remember the mosaics. The extra thickness of your door. Remember things like that." of your door. Remember "Bye, bye, Stone."

"Please, Mr. Smith, I must be instructed. What about this crack sent up the wall from your apartment. I don't know whether you care but the Goldminers are listening through it."

"What's that, Mr. Stone."

"I see no way out for you, Mr. Smith. The feelings of the Goldminers have been troubled. I don't know if it's what they're hearing or what. But the rapid appearance of the crack was disconcerting for Mrs. Goldminer especially. She tried covering it with a creeper but they said the racial atmosphere coming through the opening is killing it."

"I gather there is again a question of money, if not semantics."

"Of course again there is the matter of satisfaction, Mr. Smith, if not, ha ha, semantics."

"Be grateful Mr. Stone if you would send all further matters and misunderstandings to my business address, where I will take them up without prejudice."

"As you wish, Mr. Smith. I think you have acquitted yourself just as the management would have expected you would."

"I'm pleased you said that, Mr. Stone."

"We need tarry no longer, Mr. Smith."

"Then this is goodbye Mr. Stone."

"Yes, Mr. Smith."

"Then goodbye."

"Goodbye Mr. Smith. Merry Christmas."

"And a yingle yule to you Mr. Stone."

Hugo sheepish at the door. How intolerable can this entrance get. Rumour has it he had doings with the aristocracy. Even rode a horse. Hightailing it round a palace on speaking terms with crowned heads. Titillated with his past tone as a present footboy. Merry Mansions had a certain Hilda before the elevator became automatic. With whom, I have it on good authority, Hugo was not past the odd knee trembler.

"Good evening Hugo/'

This is quite interesting. No answer. Seems he is looking up in the sky at the threatening snowflakes which are beginning to fall. It would seem this could be a struggle of wills.

"I say there, Hugo, taxi."

This is enthralling. If I had the time one might try a triple hot foot. He heard me speaking to Mr. Stone. It would seem in life when all is said and done that it is unwise to speak to anyone if it can be avoided. I don't suppose it has ever passed through his head that I am a shareholder in the management and could lop his ears off.

"I say there, my good man. You there. I say. Bung ho. Over the top. Charge."

This is quite beyond comprehension. Must have his ear plugs in. Like myself he has had experience with the military. Naturally one tries comraderie when possible. When leading men it is essential not to be scared. Taking the season into account I will not utter some taboo word. I will try volume.

"Taxi."

Hugo stiffened. Boy how he would like to spin around and snarl. However there was need to shout. Normally I would crawl out into the snow on the fours rather than be unkind. But you see Hugo I must have a taxi to take me to the station.

Snowflakes coming thick round the orange canopy, George climbing in on the leather seat. Pulling bag behind. Door slamming resoundingly. Taxi man saying to Hugo,

"Easy on the vehicle bud."

'Driver Grand Central please. Want to make an eight o'clock train."

"Not in this snow, mister."

"I quite understand."

"You do."

"Yes."

"In that case you'll be there at a quarter to eight or my name's not Silvershit."

"I beg your pardon."

"It's terrible. That's my handle. How do you like that for a handicap. Always I know if a guy's laughing in the back of the cab he's checking with my credentials."

Smith viewing this unfortunate name on the back of the seat beneath the victim's picture. Outside the snowflakes were big and blanketing the streets sofdy. Exhaust billowing whitely out behind the cars.

Taxi plunging under the gloom of the river bridge. Dark shelter from the snow. Black figure slumped against the stone. George drawing elbows in close around the ribs. Past Golf Street. Ghost of Miss Tomson. Will flit up and down there for years.

"How's that mister, got sixteen minutes to spare."

"Most impressive. This is for you. Merry Christmas."

"I can't take this. It would ruin the whole gesture. I know materialism is important but every once in a while I like to fight against it, that way I can really go in for a big kill without feeling guilty."

The station tonight, straggling late travellers maybe each looking for a companion. But crossing this huge marble hall with just my lonesome self. With the snowy night and nip outside. The pushed down hats and collars up. Group of girls in furs. Standing at the clock. With bags at feet. Magazines under the arms. All the trains waiting down on the tracks. I go in the entrance over there with a list of wistful destinations. Stop.

Up beyond in the distance on the balcony, the head moving tall and collected above the rail. It isn't. It is.

Couldn't be. All the way here I saw her coming out of lavish doorways. Now coming down the steps. She looks like it was all made for her. And it is. I'm overcome to run. With a heart so hurt. God gave me this chance again. If I walk with my head down I could walk right into you. You might just say oaf.