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Authors: William Gaddis

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BOOK: Frolic of His Own
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—No but they got everything else wrong didn't they, about that irreparable breach with his father and working his way through . . .

—Divinity school no, no he actually told me once he'd gone through a phase looking for easy answers survived by his wife, Christina; two vultures, Eleanor Lutz of New Rochelle and Marian . . .

—Christina listen, it's not . . .

—All right, sisters! Eleanor Lutz of New Rochelle and Marian Ragow of Cleveland, Ohio; and his father, Stanley Lutz of Lake Forest, Illinois asking me to see Harry's will as though he'd left them a dime with that simpering Norrie asking if I planned to keep the penthouse while Masha sniffs around hinting my taste for luxury drove him to . . .

—Christina listen! Survived by his father they've got it all wrong, his father's been dead for years he died when Harry was still in law school, he . . .

—That's ridiculous, what in God's name makes you think that.

—He told me, Harry told me the last time we talked, we were talking about fathers and sons disappointing each other and he told me about his father's debt and bankruptcies breaking his neck to put him through law school afraid of disappointing him if he failed and he didn't live to see him graduate, his father never saw him make partner and he still felt like he'd let him down, he . . .

—You must have misunderstood him Oscar, I mean my God they've been estranged for years, his father lives like a king out there he's never made less than a million a year and when we got married those two vultures moved right in like a, talk about Regan and Goneril poisoning the old man so they'd split the inheritance two ways instead of three sucking up to him with me as the snake in the garden I told you didn't I? that she's mean as a snake, Masha? talk about a forked tongue asking me if Harry and I were having problems and talking to Bill Peyton as though we were on our way to the divorce court I know she did, trying to turn this whole business of his cremation into a cheap murder mystery simply because she wasn't told? because I went ahead with it without consulting them I'm the next of kin aren't I? what, what God damn business was it of theirs!

—But why didn't you . . .

—Because it's what he wanted! because there was some mixup everything was jumbled and confused and they called me about the, his wife as next of kin about the disposal of, about what to do with the remains I didn't know they'd be so quick about it was what he wanted you heard him, didn't you? A clean getaway right here talking about Father? standing
right here strip away the poetry and off to the crematory when the time comes I hope you'll do the same for me when the, the time came! No, no the thought of him being drained and laid out dressed up like some kind of a, lying there alone with his eyes closed and those two vultures hovering over him a week later, a month later the skin falling away from his . . .

—Christina please, you're only making it . . .

—that, that marvelous face and the, the empty eye sockets staring out at, my God I'm his, I was his wife wasn't I?

—Christina don't, sit down what are you doing! but she was already up with the phone, blowing her nose hard.

—If they think they're going to bring some kind of lawsuit over it because that's what they talked about, that snake Masha I know that's what she talked to him about and, hello? clearing her throat again sharply

—Mister Peyton please, this is . . . hello? away from his desk well where is he? This is Christina Lutz, I . . . leave my number he's got my number, tell him to . . . He knows damn well what it's in reference to! Tell him to call me! and she stood there holding the phone tipped like an emptied cup, staring out over the pond.

—But he, why would he have told me all that Christina why did he, why would he have lied to me?

She stood staring out over the pond for moments longer before she turned to him sitting there, his shoulders fallen, the watch closed tight in his hands. —I think, I think he was just trying to help, Oscar. He was, Harry was awfully fond of you, you knew that didn't you? she said coming over to him, resting a hand on his fallen shoulder —trying to help you through a bad time that was all, he meant it for your own good he knew what you were going through, I think he admired you, that he really admired what you'd tried to do because he'd tried it himself that's what he used to say, about failing at something worth doing because there was nothing worse for a man than failing at something that wasn't worth doing in the first place simply because that's where the money was, it was always the money . . .

—Christina? You ought to drink that and go up and get some sleep, and Oscar? looking at them both the way she'd looked at those cars on the highway, in the rearview mirror, listening the way she'd listened to those siren howls without blinking an eye —why don't you go in and lay down while I air out the bathroom and the library I'll be back later, I'm going down and get this x-ray over with, all right? the same detached calm hardening her voice later over the flaming pyre of vehicles on the evening news, over the blazing picture in the next morning's paper before he could shape the catch in his throat into words —just don't say it, Oscar.

—No, I was only going to . . .

—Well my God Lily, look at who's out there tearing down the highways at seventy miles an hour, what's appalling's not this mass incineration but that there's not one every five minutes, I mean half of them are functional illiterates the other half are geriatric, arthritic, insomniac, drugged and sedated with crippling headaches, cramps, diarrhea frustration and just plain rage trying to prove something it's just amazing anybody's left alive, Oscar you look like the last roe of shad what are you trying to say.

—Only that he called this morning, that Bill Peyton called before you were up to tell you these insurance company investigators will probably want to talk to you, that they've asked for Harry's medical records and his psychiatric evaluation and the whole . . .

—And what does he want me to do! her empty cup coming down hard on the saucer, —tell them Harry was relaxed? carefree? happily married? no money worries, just an occasional beer never forgot his own address or left his keys in the door, loved his job and his fellow workers, loyal and true to the firm and ready to go down with the ship?

—It wasn't like that no, no he sounded really concerned like they're doing everything possible to force this claim through, the insurance company's one of their clients they've even got a partner on the board but he said it's a highly regulated industry where there are all these legal constraints so there can't be any grounds for doubt about an improper payment if they think, if anybody thought it was a, that he did it on purpose if some stockholder tried to sue them for . . .

—Well that's the most, it's ridiculous it's simply ridiculous, I'm the one they're afraid will bring a lawsuit for the stress they put him under driving him round the bend with his caseload and these threats making him liable for their own idiotic mistakes and all the rest of it that would reflect badly on the firm's image and their whole miserable self regulating conspiracy, no. No, they'll put their paid psychiatrist up there swearing that he was unstable and bring in that car accident running that dizzy tramp into a storm drain to show he was a selfdestructive personality with a yen for car crashes and I ordered the cremation to destroy the evidence I told you didn't I? that Bill Peyton and Masha were pulling something? you heard me right here on the phone with her what was she doing digging in his shirt drawer where he kept his cash, in the bathroom going through my cosmetics no, she was probably going through the medicine cabinet looking for Harry's pills, I mean she'd do anything to see me done out of this half million life insurance that's about all he left me with, I told you she was mean as a snake didn't I? Didn't I?

—I just wish you'd stop talking about snakes.

—And I mean it's not even really the money, it's what's right. It's simply what's right that's what Harry always, that's what killed him.

—Christina? his bewildered voice echoing his irresolute struggle half to his feet as though he might have, as though he should have sprung to her rescue with some sort of dubious embrace from the desolation that had come down like a pall with her silence, so alone there hands covering her eyes until she brought them down abruptly exposing him to a stare so vacant he sank back reprieved by the vacancy taken up in the hollow of her voice.

—Where did she go?

—Lily? rescued himself now —to the kitchen? sparked by this diversion—I think she went to the kitchen yes, she . . .

—I'd never have pictured her taking it this hard would you? She looks like she'd been hit by a train.

—What the, oh. She's upset yes she's been quite upset since we, since she had some bad news, all her hopes about reconciliation with this fool of a father of hers he's just told her he's leaving all his money to this ridiculous church to be reunited with Bobbie on the other side, he's going in for a serious operation and if the Lord calls him to the other side in the midst of it he . . .

—Oscar! the clatter of a tray breaking in on him with —you want to quit talking about the other side? Here. I made some eggs.

—That was sweet Lily, where are yours.

—I ate already. Oscar I need thirty dollars.

—You, what for, what . . .

—My God Oscar just give it to her! What business is it of yours, hand me my purse Lily it's right there on the sideboard.

—I have to pay them for this x-ray before they'll tell me what they found there.

—God knows what they'll find for thirty dollars, where on earth did you find them.

—It's this place I just saw up on the highway next to that Chinese restaurant? There's this new sign in this empty storefront that says Urgent Medical Care so I just went in. They do passport photos and chiropractors there too.

—It sounds like a dime store raffle, I mean if you'd waited we could have gone to a proper hospital and here, you'd better take fifty just in case.

—That's the trouble I've waited, they said maybe I've waited too long where they'll have to do this biopsy. They do them there too, you need anything? gone up the hall without waiting for an answer, but here she was again. —Oscar? You better come out here.

Lights flashing red, yellow, red were emerging from the bare trees skirting the driveway like the blind end of some alien juggernaut lumbering
inexorably into the open, some vast image out of Spiritus Mundi moving its slow thighs, its bones of iron shuddering convulsively with a grinding of gears as a flatbed truck took shape bearing a naked tenant merrily riding its back like some wounded avatar of the automotive deity celebrating a convalescent visit.

—Wait! he came down waving his arms —what are you doing! where two men were already dismounted unfastening the chains —not there no, you can't leave it there put it, just put it, put it someplace . . .

—They can put it over in those trees Oscar, so I can get out.

—Over there! Put it over under those trees so we can get out! and the thing heaved into motion again rattling its chains, dropping its tracks, winching the red Sosumi down into a clump of serviceberry bush.

—Christina! he came pounding down the hall —did you see that? and on to the kitchen —where are you! with a passing glimpse into the disheveled sunroom —Christina? back now staring at the silent phone, he picked it up and put it down again muttering —Mohlenhoff, Schriek Mohlenhoff and, no, Prestig? over digging in the litter on the sideboard, envelopes, bills, brochures, folders spilling under his hands still muttering —wig yes, Preswig? but the one that stopped him, lips silently shaping its return Lepidus, Shea & —it's not even opened! he whispered, patting pockets for his glasses till he found them coming down slowly on the sofa and tearing it open like a man with an appetite, turning each page more quickly as though to wipe away the taste of the one before it, moistening his lips against the searing bite of each paragraph until the last leaving him sitting there with his burning mouth agape, only to suck in his breath like some cooling draft and start again with the first pungent savoury, rehearsing each course more slowly as those spiced with figures caught him gasping for breath finally getting to his feet as empty as he'd sat down and beginning to pace the room, tapping the scrolled pages against his thigh like the menu of some Barmecidal feast standing there at the window staring vacantly out over the pond.

—Well? What are you going to do about it.

—What? he turned as though seized from behind —about what! I've been calling you where have you been.

—You needn't be upset, I went out for a little fresh air and I don't want that old car on this property, things look shabby enough around here. What are you going to do about it.

—You shouldn't go out like that, you've got nothing on but a sweater you'll catch pneumonia Christina that's not why I'm upset, look at this! brandishing the pages, the torn envelope —when did it come, I just happened to find it on that pile over there couldn't somebody have told me?

—I'm not your secretary Oscar neither is Lily, I mean might it occur to
you we could have other things on our minds? and she sat down with the weariness draining her voice, the dulled look of her eyes on him —if it's something so important that . . .

—Well it is! It's my, it's the final award in my lawsuit look at it!

—I saw it Oscar, I just told you I don't want it on the property.

—What do you, not that one Christina my play! My big lawsuit against Kiester and The Blood in the no, no you're just being smart aren't you you know what I'm talking about, you're just trying to, to belittle it aren't you.

BOOK: Frolic of His Own
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