City (22 page)

“Is that story true?”

“What story?”

“Did you pay him?”

“FUCK, LARRY, THIS IS A BOXING MATCH, NOT A DEBATE, KEEP YOUR HEAD IN THIS RING OR THAT GUY WILL PEEL OFF YOUR GODDAM MOMMA'S BOY FUCKING FACE . . .”

GONG

“You're stronger, Larry. Don't throw it all away.”

“OK.”

“You're stronger.”

“Whose side are you on, Maestro?”

“Fuck you, Larry.”

“Fuck.”

Third round here in the ring at the Pontiac Hotel, Larry “Lawyer” Gorman against Stanley “Hooker” Poreda, tension is high, it's a match that lives on sudden, lightning punches . . . Lawyer's class against Poreda's experience and power . . . those who predicted a farce whose only purpose was to fill the pockets of the bookmakers will have to think again DON'T LET HIM GET CLOSE, LARRY with two tough opponents (get the fuck out of my way) Poreda tries to get closer, forces Lawyer to the clinch (fuck you), head to head, unloads punches to the sides in the direction of NO BRAWLING LARRY, GET AWAY FROM THERE the referee orders a break, Poreda locks again immediately, he doesn't let Lawyer breathe, he has evidently decided not to give him any more breathing room when SPEED, LARRY, QUICK AND OUT again a jumbled exchange in the clinch (quick, quick, OK, quick), the referee calls another break, but Poreda gets low, head between his shoulders, the classy Lawyer slips away, goes around his opponent, changes his step, changes direction, Poreda tries again to shorten up, FLASH FROM LAWYER, a straight that opened up Poreda's defense, ANOTHER JAB, AND STILL ANOTHER, rapid punches, Lawyer punches and then goes back to dancing (now, all in a moment, now) he's at his best, agility and velocity, ANOTHER JAB, FAKES THE HOOK, POREDA SLIDES HIS BODY OUT, BUT LAWYER HITS WITH THE STRAIGHT, POREDA TAKES IT IN THE FACE, SLOW DOWN, LARRY, SLOW FUCKING DOWN, he's like a rubber band Lawyer, forward and back, quick bursts, Poreda doesn't seem to get it, he waits on the ropes and submits, Lawyer's show, he's at his best LARRY, FUCKING CHRIST, STOP, SINK IT DECISIVELY THIS TIME LAWYER, POREDA'S BOUNCING ON THE ROPES, TWO-HAND COMBINATION FROM LAWYER, UPPERCUT FROM POREDA, HIT, LAWYER HIT HARD BUT STILL CLOSING, TO THE BODY NOW, LANDS A HOOK, POREDA STAGGERS, TRIES TO GET OUT, LAWYER BLOCKS HIM, CLOSE HOOK, LAWYER AGAIN ON THE MARK (breathe and close) LAWYER BACKS UP TWO STEPS, Poreda breathes, the entire audience is on its feet, AND NOW GET OUT LARRY GET OUT, LAWYER'S nerves on edge, A FLASH, STRAIGHT RIGHT AND HOOK, A SHOT (go down, you bastard) POREDA BOUNCES OFF THE ROPES (the fuck down) HE BUCKLES, LAWYER WITH TWO HANDS (fuck you, fuck you, fuck you) POREDA SLIDES TO THE SIDE, ROUND-HOUSE HOOK, LAWYER TAKES IT (enough, Christ) AND RESPONDS WITH A STRAIGHT, MISSES (breathe, how long is it since I breathed?) POREDA DROPS HIS SHOULDER, COMES OUT WITH THE UPPERCUT, ON TARGET AND RIGHT HOOK, LAWYER BACK LARRY!!! POREDA CHASES HIM LARRY UP WITH THOSE ARMS!!! (arms up) POREDA TWICE IN THE FACE (breathe, I have to manage to breathe) DON'T LOWER YOUR ARMS GODDA (how much time left?) POREDA WITH THE HOOK, MISSES, AGAIN WITH THE HOOK (uppercut) UPPERCUT FROM LAWYER MISSES (arms up) KEEP YOUR HANDS UP LARRY!!! FEROCIOUS RIGHT FROM POREDA LAWYER HIT, LAWYER DOWN ( ) LAWYER DOWN, LAWYER DOWN (where is he?) A FEROCIOUS RIGHT FROM POREDA HAS SENT LARRY LAWYER GORMAN TO THE CANVAS, HE'S LYING ON HIS BACK (lights, buzzing, lights, cold) HE RAISES HIS HEAD, REFEREE GONZALES IS BENDING OVER HIM FOR THE COUNTDOWN (nausea, blood on those shoes, the referee's shoes, where the fuck did that punch come from?) THREE (I've got to sit up, sit up, lights, cold, faces watching, enormous faces, nausea, Jesus I'm tired, how could I not see it coming, you dickhead) FOUR (he caught me in the gut, fucking Christ, look at the ropes and count, three, I see them, three, OK, all those faces, a woman shouting, I can't hear her shout, shit) FIVE (the legs, the legs, there are my legs, it's all OK, now get up, the buzzing, where is Mondini?, breathe, oxygen to the brain, breathe) SIX (I can't feel my mouth, shit, Mondini, what's missing?, my legs are there, I have to make my head stop, look at a fixed point, my eyes stop, why is that shit referee coming so close, a gold tooth in his mouth) SEVEN (OK, I have to wait for my head to come back, buzzing and vision dancing, the legs will have to get me away, they'll do it, no problem, I can't feel my mouth, Mondini, up and down with the body and dance with the legs, no problem) EIGHT (of course I can go on, I'm going on, you shit referee, what's missing Mondini?, I'll keep going, everything's OK, where's Poreda?, let me see Poreda's face, the bastard, I what kind of face do I have?) BOX, still twenty-three seconds to go in this dramatic third round, Poreda tries to force Lawyer to the ropes, Lawyer backs up, works with his legs, uses the jab to keep Poreda away, eighteen seconds, POREDA ADVANCES Lawyer slips away on the left, BUT HE STAGGERS, POREDA IS ON HIM, HITS WITH THE RIGHT, LANDS IT, AGAIN WITH A RIGHT TO THE FACE, LAWYER GOES TO THE CLINCH, HE SEEMS EXHAUSTED, POREDA KEEPS GOING, LOOKS FOR THE RIGHT OPENING, LAWYER TRIES TO REACT, RIGHT LEFT, MISSES THE TARGET, AGAIN THE RIGHT, HIT BELOW THE BELT, POREDA PROTESTS, REFEREE STOPS THE ACTION, WARNING TO LAWYER, FIVE SECONDS, POREDA LIKE A WILD ANIMAL ON LAWYER, IT'S A FURIOUS CLINCH,

GONG

AND IT'S THE BELL THAT TAKES LAWYER OUT OF A SITUATION that is certainly not too comfortable, after the knockdown that

“Breathe.”

“. . .”

“Sit down and breathe, go on.”

“. . .”

“Let me see, OK, look at me, all right, and give me the salts, breathe.”

“. . .”

“I liked the idea of the low blow . . . Poreda isn't what he used to be, he should have pretended to faint and you would really have been screwed . . . he isn't what he used to be.”

“. . .”

“Arms and hands, all OK?”

“Yes.”

“Breathe.”

“I didn't see it.”

“A straight right hand, you didn't see it from the start.”

“. . .”

“Water, come on.”

“Maestro . . .”

“Swish, don't drink, DON'T DRINK, spit, like that.”

“What should I do, Maestro?”

“OK, like that, and now breathe, BREATHE.”

“What should I do?”

“How's your mouth?”

“I can't feel it.”

“Better that way.”

“I don't know what to do out there, Maestro.”

“THAT'S ENOUGH OF THE SALTS, can you breathe?”

“Maestro . . .”

GONG

“Fuck you, Larry.”

“What's happening, Maestro?”

“Fuck you, Larry.”

“Maestro . . .”

Fourth round here in the ring at the Pontiac Hotel, a cry goes up from the eight thousand spectators, Poreda and Lawyer square off in the center of the ring, their faces both show marks of the struggle, Lawyer's mouth is bleeding, one of Poreda's eyes is half closed, they're moving slowly now, still studying each other in the center of the ring (everything so far away everything goes more slowly, Poreda is slower my red gloves like someone else's flash pins and needles in my hands bam bam it's the pain that keeps me awake, wonderful pain it's an orgy bam Poreda you whore, fuck you I didn't even feel it I can't feel any hit any more if you want I can't feel I'll make you come inside if you want come on you old bastard right right left the left scares you you don't see the hook you don't have an eye there any more to look you look with the blood it throbs in your head come forward I'm not coming to get you fuck yourself I didn't feel it I won't feel anything any more there's no one any more it's hell come to hell bam the corner's nice the ropes on your back smell of bam you whore bam bam dance great legs bam you bastard head like a rock my fingers you can't see it shithead you can't see it any more come to hell now) LEFT HOOK FROM LAWYER, A STUNNER, INCREDIBLE, POREDA STAGGERS BACK HE'S IN THE CENTER OF THE RING, HE CAN'T KEEP HIS ARMS UP, HE STAGGERS, LAWYER SLOWLY COMES CLOSER, POREDA TAKES A STEP BACK, LAWYER IS SHOUTING SOMETHING AT HIM, HE GETS CLOSER, LAWYER, POREDA NOT MOVING, LAWYER, LAWYER, THE CROWD ON ITS FEET

Gould saw the latch on the door turn and the door open. A man in uniform appeared.

“Hey kid, why didn't you answer?”

“What?”

“I knocked, for the tickets, and you didn't answer, what are you doing, sleeping in the toilet?”

“No.”

“You have a ticket?”

“Yes.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yes.”

Still sitting on the toilet, Gould held out his ticket.

“I knocked, but you didn't answer.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“You need anything?”

“No, no, everything's all right.”

“You know, sometimes someone's in trouble, feeling sick, we have to open up, according to regulations.”

“Of course.”

“What about you, you coming out?”

“Yes, I'm coming out now.”

“I'll close the door for you, OK?”

“Yes.”

“Next time, answer.”

“Yes.”

“OK, have a good trip.”

“Thanks.”

The conductor closed the door. Gould stood and pulled up his pants. He looked in the mirror for a moment. He opened the door, went out, and closed the door behind him. There was a woman, standing there, who looked at him. He went back to his seat. The countryside slid by past the windows without surprises. The train moved along.

27

Gould's father arrived late in the evening, when it was already dark. He looked around.

“It's all changed here.”

He wasn't in uniform. There was something boyish about his face. Like his smile. And he was wearing rather elegant brown shoes, laced shoes. It was hard to imagine that he could fight a war, with shoes like that. They seemed more suitable to making peace, a dull, reassuring peace.

Shatzy looked out the window because she expected soldiers or bodyguards, or something like that. But there was no one. She thought it was odd. She had never imagined that man
alone.
And now he was there. Alone. Hard to figure.

Gould's father said his name was Halley. He said he would like it if Shatzy simply called him Halley. And not: General.

He also said, in the desire to be precise, that he wasn't really a general.

“Oh, no?”

“Well, it's a boring story. Call me Halley, all right?”

Shatzy said that was all right. She had made pizza, so they began to eat, at the kitchen table, with the radio on, and all. Gould's father said it was a good pizza. Then he asked about Gould.

“He's gone, General.”

“Will you explain to me exactly what that means?”

Shatzy explained. She said that Gould had left, but he hadn't gone to Couverney, he had taken a train somewhere, she didn't know where, and had telephoned her from there.

“He telephoned you?”

“Yes. He wanted to tell me that he wouldn't be back, and . . .”

“Will you tell me what his exact words were?”

“I don't know, he said only that he wouldn't be back, and please we were not to look for him, we were to let him go, he said exactly that, let me go, everything is fine, and then he said now I'll explain what to do about money. And he explained it to me.”

“What money?”

“Money, just money, he asked if I could send him some money, for the first weeks, then he would get settled.”

“Money.”

“Yes.”

“And you said nothing to him?”

“I?”

“You.”

“I don't know, I don't think so, I didn't say much. I was listening. I was trying to figure out from his voice if he was . . . I don't know, I was trying to figure out if he was afraid, something like that, if he was afraid or . . . or if he was content. Do you see?”

“. . .”

“I think he was content. I remember thinking that his voice was peaceful, and that he seemed almost happy, yes, now it may seem strange to you, but it was the voice of a happy boy.”

“He didn't tell you where he was?”

“No.”

“And you didn't ask him, right?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“There must be a way to identify the call by checking the telephone company computer. It shouldn't be difficult.”

“Don't try to do that, General.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you love Gould, don't do it.”

“Miss Shell, he's a child, he can't go around in the world like that, without anyone,
it's dangerous
to go around in the world, I certainly won't let him . . .”

“I know it's dangerous, but . . .”

“He's only a child . . .”

“Yes, but
he's not afraid,
that's the point, he's not afraid, I'm sure of it. And so we mustn't be. I think it's a question of courage, you see?”

“No.”

“I think that we should have the courage to let him go.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

She was serious. She was convinced that Gould was doing exactly what he had decided to do, and when things are like that you don't have much choice, all you can do is not interfere, that's all, interfere as little as possible.

Gould's father said she was crazy.

So Shatzy said

“That has nothing to do with it”

and then she told him the story of the rivers, that business about how if a river has to get to the sea it does so by turning to the right and the left, when undoubtedly it would be quicker, more
practical,
to go straight to the goal instead of complicating life with all those curves, which serve only to make the route three times as long—three point one four times, to be precise—as the scientists have ascertained with marvelous scientific precision.

“It's as if they were
obligated
to wander, you see?, it seems absurd—if you think about it you can't avoid seeing it as absurd— but the fact is that they
have
to advance like that, one curve following another, and it's not absurd or logical, neither right nor wrong, it's simply their way, that's all.”

Gould's father was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he said:

“Where did he say to send the money?”

“I won't tell you even if you tie me to a nuclear warhead and drop me on a Japanese island.”

Then they stopped talking for quite a while. Shatzy cleared the table, while Gould's father paced, back and forth, stopping every so often at the windows, and glancing outside. At one point he went upstairs. Shatzy could hear his footsteps overhead. She imagined that he was looking at Gould's room, and touching the objects, opening closets, holding up the pictures, things like that. She heard him go into the bathroom. She also heard the toilet flush, and Larry “Lawyer” Gorman came to mind, and she realized that she missed him, goodness how she missed him. Gould's father came back down. He sat down on the sofa. One of his brown shoes was untied, but either he didn't realize it or didn't give a damn.

Shatzy turned out the light in the kitchen. She left the radio on, but turned out the light, and came and sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa. The other sofa, the green one. Gould's father was sitting on the blue one. There was traffic information on the radio. An accident on the interstate. No one dead as far as anyone knew. But who can ever say.

“My wife was a very beautiful woman, Miss Shell. When I married her she was truly beautiful. And she was
fun.
She didn't sit still for a moment, and she enjoyed everything, she was one of those people who give meaning to the silliest, most insignificant things, who expect something even from those, she had faith in life, she was just made that way. When I married her I didn't know her very well, we had met three months earlier, no more, it wasn't like me, but she asked me to marry her, and I did, and what I think is that it's the best thing I've done, in my whole life. Seriously. We were very happy, please believe me. And when she discovered she was expecting a baby, it didn't occur to me to be frightened, it was a joyful moment, we both simply thought that it would be wonderful, that it was a good thing. Every year we were in a new place, the Army is like that, it moves you around, and she was with me, and wherever we went it was as if she had been born there, her home town. She made friends everywhere. When Gould arrived we were at the Almenderas base. Radar and reconnaissance, things like that. And Gould arrived. I worked a lot, what I can remember is that she seemed happy, I remember we laughed, and it was as before, a wonderful life. I don't know when things began to get complicated. You see, Gould was never an easy child, I mean, he wasn't a normal child, assuming that there are normal children, he was a child who wasn't like a child, so to speak. He was like a grown-up. As far as I remember, we didn't do anything special with him, we treated him as he was, we didn't think we had to do anything special for him. Maybe we were mistaken. When he went to school, then all that about him being a genius came out. They tested him, did scientific examinations, and then they told us that everything led them to believe that that child was a genius. They used just that word. Genius. It turned out that his brain was in the highest rankings of the delta band. Do you have any idea what that means?”

“No.”

“That's the Stocken parameters.”

“Oh.”

“A genius. I wasn't glad or sorry, and my wife didn't know what to think, either, to us it didn't matter, you know? Ruth is my wife's name. Ruth. She started feeling unwell when we were in Topeka. There were these moments of emptiness, so to speak, when she didn't remember who she was; afterwards she returned to normal, but it was as if she had done something enormously laborious, and was exhausted. It's strange what can happen in a brain. In hers everything was sort of upside down. You could see that she was trying to regain her strength, and also her interest in life, but every time she had to start again from the beginning, it wasn't easy, it was as if she had to put back together all the pieces of something that had been broken. They said it was fatigue, merely a question of fatigue, then they started giving her a lot of tests. Then, I remember, we were no longer happy. We still loved each other, we loved each other very much, but it was hard, with her suffering in between us, it was all a little different. During that period she and Gould were together a lot. I'm not sure that it was ideal for Gould, and now, thinking back on it, I see that for her, too, being with that child couldn't have been very healthy. He was a child who complicated things for you, in your head. She didn't need things to get complicated. But it seemed that they got along well together. You know, people are usually afraid of someone like Ruth, they don't like being with someone who has, let's say, psychological problems, real problems, I mean. Gould wasn't afraid. They understood each other, they laughed, they had all sorts of nonsense of their own. It seemed like a game, but I don't know, I don't think it could have been very good, for Ruth or for him. I'd say it wasn't, given how it ended. At a certain point Ruth began to get worse very quickly and then they told me that she should be cut off from everything, and, however painful, she should be persuaded to go into a clinic, with constant care, she was no longer able to live in a normal place. It was a harsh blow. You know, I've always worked for the Army, I was never trained to understand, in the Army you learn to perform a task, not to understand. I did what I was told. I took her to a clinic. I worked hard, and as soon as I had time I went to her. I was there, I wanted her to be with me, and I with her. At night I'd come home, often it was so late Gould was asleep. I remember that I wrote him notes. But I never really knew what to write. Every so often I made an effort to get home a little earlier, and then we played a game, Gould and I, or we listened to boxing matches on the radio, because we never had a television, Ruth detested television, and I was mad about boxing, I even fought a little, as a young man, I've always enjoyed it. Anyway, there we were, listening. We didn't talk much. You know, talking to your son is not something you can improvise. Either you have to start very early or it's a disaster, believe me. In my case it was undeniably a disaster. And then everything fell apart, when the Army transferred me to Port Larenque. Thousands of miles from here. I thought about it for quite a while, and finally I made a decision. I know it will seem ludicrous to you, and even mean, but I decided that I wanted to be with Ruth, I wanted my life with her back, the way it was in the beginning, and I would have done anything to make that happen. I found a clinic not far from the military base and I brought Ruth with me. But I left Gould here. I was sure that it would be better for him to stay here. I know that you will judge me harshly, but I don't feel any need to justify or explain myself. I would say only that Gould was one world, that child is a world, and Ruth and I were another. And I thought that I had the right to live in
my
world. That's how it went. I always made sure that Gould had everything he needed, and that he could grow up studying, because that was the road he was meant to take. I tried to do my duty. What remained of my duty. And it always seemed to me that, whether good or bad, the situation worked. It seems that I was mistaken. But Ruth is better, they let her go out for long periods now, she comes home and every so often truly seems what she used to be. We laugh, and people can spend time with us, they aren't afraid anymore. Every so often, she looks very beautiful. Once, when she seemed really well, calm, I asked her if she might like to see Gould, we could have him come, someday. She said no. We never spoke of it again.”

It was as if someone had suddenly turned off his voice. Someone had turned it on, and now had decided to turn it off. He said

“Excuse me”

but in truth nothing could be heard. Shatzy understood that he had said

“Excuse me”

but who knows: you can never be sure.

What with one thing and another, it had grown late, and Shatzy wondered what was still to come. She tried to remember if she had something to say. Or to do. It was all rather complicated by that man who was sitting there, motionless on the sofa, staring at his hands, and swallowing, every so often, with an effort. It occurred to her to ask him what was that story that he was a general but wasn't really, completely—that whole business. Then she decided it wasn't a good idea. She also reminded herself that it would be better to face the subject of the money. Somehow, money had to be sent, to Gould. She was wondering what approach to take when she heard Gould's father say

“What is Gould like now?”

He had said it with a voice that seemed new, as if it had been returned to him at that moment, washed and ironed. As if he had sent it to the dry cleaner's.

“What is Gould like now?”

“Grown up.”

“Aside from that, I mean.”

“Grown up nicely, I think.”

“Does he laugh, sometimes?”

“Of course he laughs, why?”

“I don't know. There was a time when he didn't laugh much.”

“We've had some great laughs, if that's what worries you.”