Death on the Installment Plan (31 page)

I stay by the water’s edge … I’m not quite so cold … My head’s fuzzy … I’m all right here. Why not? I’m not bothering anybody … They’re some kind of “tartans” … I know about boats … Still more of them coming … They crowd together … They settle in the waves … up to the rail … weighed down with food. Enough vegetables for an army … Red cabbage, onions, black radishes, mountains of turnips, whole cathedrals of them, heading into the stream, towed by a sailboat … They rise up out of the darkness … proud and graceful in the beam of the searchlights … The longshoremen have put the ladder in place … All at the same time they swallow their plugs. They hang their hats on their alpaca coats … They looked like a bunch of bookkeepers … They were even wearing cuffs … That’s what longshoremen were like in those days … They toted baskets, enormous piles of them … balancing acts … the tops were lost in the darkness … They came back with tomatoes, they dug deep tunnels in the wall of cauliflowers … They vanished in the holds again … They came back out into the lamplight … with big loads of artichokes … the boat wasn’t listing anymore, it was sinking under the weight of the gangplanks … Another batch of phony longshoremen tote some more of the cargo away …

That’s funny, my teeth are chattering … I’m dying of the cold … literally. I’m not dizzy anymore … Suddenly I remember … Where did I leave my blanket? It all comes back to me … the kid with the fritters … I look from one stand to the next … Finally I find her. She was waiting for me. She’d put everything away, all the kettles, the big fork, folded up the whole shooting match … She was all ready to leave. She was glad to see me back … She’d sold her whole stock … She even showed me that all the dishes were empty … The French fries … the potato salad … All she had left was a piece of head cheese … She smeared it on bread with a knife, a good chunk, and we shared it … I was hungry again. She pulled up her veil to get a better look at me. She made scolding gestures, because I’d stayed away too long. She was jealous already! … She wouldn’t let me help her pulling at the shafts … The shed where she kept her cart was in town … I carried the lantern … I hadn’t seen all of her hat … There was more to see … streamers hanging down to her waist. A great big peacock feather was tied under her chin with a really magnificent scarf with a mauve and gold flower pattern.

In the shed we piled up the pots … We locked the door and went out bumming. She came closer to me … she wanted to talk to me seriously … But again I wouldn’t give in … I played dumb. I showed her my address … “Meanwell College.” I stopped under a lamp so she could read it … As it happened, she didn’t know how to read … She went on gabbing the whole time … She kept repeating her name. She tapped on her chest … Gwendoline! Gwendoline! … I heard her all right, I massaged her tits, but I didn’t get the words … To hell with tenderness … sentiment! That stuff is like a family … At first you don’t catch on, but it stinks, it’s putrid, crawling … No Greasy Joan is going to drag any words out of me … Pleased to meet you, kid! … Go. shit in your hat! … Let her carry my bag … God bless your kind heart! Go right ahead! Anyway, she was stronger than me … She took advantage of the dark corners to smother me with caresses. She hugged me like a wrestler … There was no point in resisting … The streets were almost deserted … She wanted me to knead her … to press her … to squeeze her … She was hot stuff … demanding and curious … We hid behind the fog … I had to keep on kissing her, she wouldn’t have given my stuff back … It was no use wriggling, I’d have looked like a dope … We were under a lamp … she had a crust on her … she took out my dick … it wasn’t hard anymore … she hardens it up … I come … That really drives her crazy … She goes jumping around in the fog … She hikes up her skirt … she dances like a cannibal … I couldn’t help laughing … It didn’t seem like the right time of day … She wanted the whole works … Hell … She’s running after me … She’s getting mean … She catches me … She tries to eat me alive … with big sucking kisses … That kid liked foreigners …

The esplanade was empty, at the other end the jugglers were folding their tents … the little carts with candy and jam crossed the open space, jolting in the holes and ruts … They had trouble pushing … We came to a booth … the last woman in the place, a grandmother, was rolling up her hangings … She was dressed like a houri … She blew out her candles … She rolled up her oriental carpets … There were signs all around the entrance … showing the lines of the hand … She was yawning tremendously … enough to dislocate her jaw … Wah! Wah! she grunted out through the night. We came closer, me and my floozie. We interrupted her housecleaning. The two broads knew each other … They stop to chat … They must have been friends … They jabber a lot of stuff … They were both interested in me … The Fatima motions me to come up, to step into her shack. I couldn’t refuse; the other one minded my things … The old bag takes my hand, she turns it over, she looks at my palms … Close up, under the lamp. She’s going to tell my fortune … I catch on … They’re curious about my future … Women always want to know everything … the minute you refuse to talk … I didn’t give a damn, I was nice and comfortable on a pile of cushions … It was a damn sight warmer than outside … I just took it easy … They went on with their hocus-pocus … They were interested in my case … The Fatima was getting excited … she was cooking up my horoscope … My girl was frowning … My fate must have been sad … I let them work on my hands … It wasn’t unpleasant. Anyway I had other things to worry out … I looked around me some … Their tent had stripes and stars on it, and on the ceiling embroidered moons and comets … It was too late to get up much interest … I couldn’t understand a word of their gibberish … It was at least two o’clock … They kept at it, drawing things out … Now they were talking about the little furrow … They were conscientious souls … My hands were always dirty, that couldn’t have helped much. And the nails … I could just as well have dropped off to sleep … Finally they were done … They didn’t agree … My kid paid the old bag with her own money, two coins, I was looking … She had the cards laid out for her … And then we were through with the future … We went out under the curtains. The old bag climbed up on her counter and went back to her hangings.

From that moment on, my conquest, this Gwendoline, looked at me differently … I wasn’t the same guy … I felt that she had presentiments … she thought me transfigured … She didn’t pet me the same way anymore … My destiny must have been pretty sticky … I guess the cards showed the same as the furrows: pure grief …

I felt so sleepy I could have dropped on the spot, but it was too chilly. We had to keep tramping around on the dock … There really wasn’t a soul, just a little dog that tagged around after us for a while. He trailed off toward the storehouses. We went into a shelter right by the water, we listened, we saw the tide lapping against the wall … chattering like tongues …. And then the sound of oars and the deep breathing of the guys …

My Greasy Joan dragged me away, I think she wanted me to go home with her … I wouldn’t have minded sleeping on the sacks, there were big piles of them all the way up to the rafters … They cut the wind … She made motions to say she had a real room with a real bed … That didn’t appeal to me … It meant intimacies … even then, in the depths of my weariness, she gave me the willies. I make a sign meaning no … I’ve got this address I want to get to … “Meanwell College” … if it comes to laying Gwendoline, I’d rather go back to school. Not that she was so ugly looking … she had charm in her way, even a kind of elegance … She had an ass on her and muscular thighs and cute little boobies … an ugly-looking puss, but it was dark … We could have done our business, we’d certainly have had a good time … But once we’d had our sleep out, then what? … Anyway I was too tired … And besides, it was impossible … It stirred up my gall … it cramped my cock to think of it … of all the treachery of things … as soon as you let anybody wrap you up … The whole stinking rotten business … And of my mother … Ah, the poor woman! And of Gorloge and Madame Méhon and the quotations! And the kitchen faucet! And Lavelongue! And little André! The whole lousy mess! Yes, damn it all, I had as much as I could take … a big stinking steaming load of shit up to here … See what I mean? Nothing doing!

I’d gladly have knocked hell out of this fritter baby, so innocent, so kind … an extra-special thrashing till she couldn’t see straight … if I’d thought I was stronger … to teach her what was what … But she’d have knocked me for a loop, that was sure. She could take care of herself, she was built like a wrestler, she would have turned me like a pancake if I’d started getting real mean! … That’s all I had on my mind in the little side streets while my cutie was unbuttoning me … She had the grip of a working girl, rough as a grater, and not at all bashful. Everybody was screwing me. O well …

Finally I got my address out. We’d have to find the place sooner or later. She couldn’t read at all, so we went looking for a
policemanne
… Two or three times we went wrong. It was always some funny-looking fountain at a street crossing in the middle of the fog … We had a hell of a time finding one … We looked from dock to dock … We went stumbling over barrels and gangplanks … It was fun in spite of being so exhausted … She held me up and my suitcase too … She really had a good disposition. She was losing her bun … I even pulled her hair. That made her laugh too. The stray dog started following us again … Finally through the cracks in a shelter we saw real light … The watchman was slumped over, he jumped when he saw us. He had on at least three overcoats one on top of the other. He cleared his throat a long time … He came out in the fog, he shook himself like a duck … He was very obliging. He was able to read my address. He showed us … way up there, he pointed his finger, way at the end of the night … where Meanwell College was, on the hilltop after a string of lanterns that climbed up in a zigzag … He went back into his shack. He squeezed in through the door with all his layers.

Once we knew the way, we weren’t in such a hurry … There was still a climb, a big long slope … Our adventure wasn’t over … We climbed very slowly … She didn’t want me to knock myself out … She was all kindness. She didn’t dare to molest me anymore … She only kissed me a little when we stopped to rest. She made signs under the lamp that I was just her style … that she liked me fine … About halfway up the slope we sat down on a rock; from there you could see clouds of fog moving in the distance across the river … they came swooping down, blotting out the little boats on the smooth water … dousing their lights … then there was moonlight, and then clouds took over again … The kid made some more gestures … Wasn’t I hungry? She offered to get me something to eat, her heart really seemed to be in the right place … Dazed as I was, I wondered if I’d have the strength to topple her off the edge with a good swift kick in the ass. Well, how about it?

Below us the cliff dropped sheer into the drink.

All of a sudden we hear voices, men, a whole gang, I recognize them with their lanterns, it was the “minstrels,” phony niggers with blackened faces … They were coming up from the harbor too … pulling their cart in the fog. They’re having a lot of trouble with it. It’s heavy, all that setup of theirs, they’d taken it all apart … Their poles and instruments jiggle and clatter … They see us, they talk to Greasy Joan … They take time out, they settle down a while, they go into conference, they pile up all their coins on the end of the bench … trying to count them, but they can’t make it … They’re too tired … One at a time they go wash their faces in the waterfall nearby. They come back livid in the morning light … you’d think they were dead already … They raise their heads a moment, they sag, they sit down again in the gravel … They crack some more jokes with my cutie … Finally we all pick ourselves up, we leave together … We push the wheels of their contraption, we tug and pull to get them up the hill somehow. I still had quite a way to go. They didn’t want to leave us … Meanwell College was over past the trees, then another turn, and then a slope and a garden …

By now things were blue. When we got to the gate, we were all pretty palsy-walsy. It was hard to find the right number. we scratched matches in two three different places … Finally we had it … The kid began to bawl. But we had to leave each other some time … I made gestures, signs … to tell her she shouldn’t stay there, she should go on with the boys … I’d be seeing her again for sure … down below … in the port … one day … I made affectionate gestures … It was true, all in all I really wanted to. I gave her my blanket to make her believe me … I’d go and get it … She had trouble understanding … I didn’t know what to do … She was kissing me like mad … Our pantomime sent the “minstrels” into stitches … They imitated our kisses …

In the narrow little street an icy wind was blowing … We were all so worn out … I could hardly stand up … But really our effusions were too funny … In the end we were all rocking with laughter … it was all so dumb … at that time of night … Finally she made up her mind … She didn’t want to go on alone so she followed the minstrels … They all pushed off together behind the cart, the instruments, the bass drum … A nice litle stroll they were having … The kid waved some last good-byes from far off with her lantern … Finally they disappeared … in the trees, around the bend in the street.

Then I looked at the sign in front of me where I was supposed to go in … It was written plainly: “Meanwell College” and above that, in much redder letters: Director J. P. Merrywin. That was the place, I hadn’t gone wrong. I lifted the little knocker: Tap! Tap! At first nothing happened … then I rang at the other door … still nobody answered … quite a while … Finally I heard somebody moving … I saw a light coming down the stairs … I could see through the curtains … It gave me a rotten feeling … For two cents I’d have cleared out … I’d have run after the kid … I’d have caught up with the other guys … I’d have never come back to the school … I was already turning on my heels … Bing, I bump right into this guy … a little man, all stooped over, in a dressing gown … He pulls himself up. He looks me over … He jabbers explanations … That must be the boss … He was all upset … He had side-whiskers … they were red … with a few white hairs. A little wig over his eyes. He repeated my name. He’d come out through the garden … taken me by surprise … That was a funny way to act … He must have been afraid of thieves … He sheltered his candle … He stood there in front of me, mumbling. It wasn’t a very warm place for an interview. He couldn’t find all the words he needed, the wind blew out his candle: