Recovery (11 page)
Authors: John Berryman
He came off his bed in Ward W sweating. It was eleven-ten.
There was a gang in the Snack Room. Luriel was leaning into the refrigerator, her narrow back active. Jeree had gone to bed, Edith was gossiping with George and a new man, slight build, slack-faced, in a dressing-gown. Charley and Bill S were arguing across the table. Alan drew coffee and stood behind Charley, leaving the third chair for Luriel, who brought salami cheese mayonnaise butter bread to the table, paying no attention to anyone. Edith laughed her suburb terrace laugh. âGetting ready for a greedy night?'
Luriel dropped her empty hands, looked at Edith, lowered her head, and rushed out.
Now Severance could not bear Edith, a pretty, dark-haired, offhand housewife who had been more or less confided to his protectionââShow her the ropes, she's resistant and scared'âby a mutual friend who had just left the Ward. She seemed to him neither scared nor resistant;
just not here at all. Most patients were for their first week or ten days monotonously glum. Edith acted as if she was on a tour of the Greek islands, minus the archeology and the Metaxa (seven-star no doubt). Help her? Moreover, she had been insolent about an old friend of his at lunch, Rochelle. He moved forward.
just not here at all. Most patients were for their first week or ten days monotonously glum. Edith acted as if she was on a tour of the Greek islands, minus the archeology and the Metaxa (seven-star no doubt). Help her? Moreover, she had been insolent about an old friend of his at lunch, Rochelle. He moved forward.
âWe don't bait each other in here,' he said savagely.
She looked taken aback. âIâSheâI'm sorry, I onlyâI had no idea.'
âShe must be incredibly sensitive, damn you. You were rude about Rochelle at noon, too. Rochelle is a close friend of mine, we were together in Group last Spring. You said she had the manners of a prostitute. Who do you think you are? I personally know various duchesses and princesses' (one princess, anyway, that's enough) âif we're going in for that stuff: they are delighted to entertain me, and I consider Rochelle my social equal. I suppose
you
hobnob with duchesses,' he snapped, and left.
you
hobnob with duchesses,' he snapped, and left.
Arita, who had just come on duty, looked up Luriel's room number and Alan went softly down the dark right corridor. He knocked, knocked again, heard a sound, turned the knob and pushed. She was sitting hunched over on the far side of the bed with her back to him, unmoving. He walked around the end and sat down tentatively in a straight chair. Her convulsed face, when she lifted it, was the colour of clay.
âI'm
sorry,'
he said bitterly.
sorry,'
he said bitterly.
âEverybody makes fun of me.'
âHave
I
made fun of you, Luriel? She told us she was sorry, when I hit her. What was the trouble exactly?'
I
made fun of you, Luriel? She told us she was sorry, when I hit her. What was the trouble exactly?'
âI have to eat all the time. I can't help it. I'm an addict.'
âEat?' Severance was surprised. âAren't you an alcoholic?'
âM
aybe,' said Luriel earnestly, entering into something with him, âbut the real trouble is my
eating.
I can't stop. Night and day.'
aybe,' said Luriel earnestly, entering into something with him, âbut the real trouble is my
eating.
I can't stop. Night and day.'
âBut you eat practically nothing at meals,' he said puzzled.
âIt's not so bad then. It's in between meals I have no control. All night long.' The weird unattractive, even repellent young woman sounded desperate. She was confiding
fear
as well as resentment. âThey have no right to laugh, it's not my fault, it's my body. I'm helpless.'
fear
as well as resentment. âThey have no right to laugh, it's not my fault, it's my body. I'm helpless.'
Severance hurt with her. âWho laughs, for God's sake? Edith is Bitch One but she certainly did not know about your trouble. Nobody else laughed, I can tell you. They felt bad.'
âThey all make fun of me. Even my doctor.'
âYour doctor?' The M.D. was scandalized. âThat's unprofessional! Who is he?'
âDr Walters.'
âI don't know him. He must be out of his mind. I
have heard everything
about psychiatrists, I've had four or five myself, but this is new to me. What the hell does he laugh at?'
have heard everything
about psychiatrists, I've had four or five myself, but this is new to me. What the hell does he laugh at?'
âMy problem.'
âWhat problem?'
âMy eating problem.'
âIt's no joke. Obesity can be dangerous. Does he deny that?'
âHe says I have no eating problem.'
âAnd you really do? When did it begin?'
âLast week, up on Seven. I began to crave. At first I thought it would go away, but I began to hide food and I saw I was lost.'
My God it's just like bottles, he thought. But he said: âI never heard of addiction happening so suddenly. What drugs were you on?'
âI forget.'
âAnyway it hasn't got far. At least you have no
weight
problem.'
weight
problem.'
âThat's just what I do have!' she cried furiously.
He was taken aback. âBut you're very
thin,
Luriel.' He did not want to hurt her feelings: she was skin-and-bones plus excited.
thin,
Luriel.' He did not want to hurt her feelings: she was skin-and-bones plus excited.
She pointed her left forefinger with terrible emphasis to her belly and said ominously, âJust wait till I weigh four hundred pounds.'
Severance actually seemed to see a frightening
rounding
under the green robe. He knew what could happen with drinking, and he and his wife had a witchy-pretty young hausfrau friend who had mountained under his eyes over the last two years. It was no laughing matter.
rounding
under the green robe. He knew what could happen with drinking, and he and his wife had a witchy-pretty young hausfrau friend who had mountained under his eyes over the last two years. It was no laughing matter.
âLook. Get another psychiatrist. This is out of my province.'
âI like Dr Walters.'
âBut you say he laughs at you.'
âOnly about my weight problem.' She sounded both stubborn and strangely happy.
Severance was lost. âTake it up in Group tomorrow,' he said as a last resort. âMaybe the counsellors can help, or somebody.'
âBut what about tonight?'
“You can't eat yourself to death in one night. Just
don't fight
it and sweat about it. Relax. Eat your goddamned head off if you feel you must. I don't know what to say. It sounds awful.'
don't fight
it and sweat about it. Relax. Eat your goddamned head off if you feel you must. I don't know what to say. It sounds awful.'
âOh, it's awful,' she stared at him solemnly. At the same time she seemed perfectly content, and as he said goodnight and shook hands he felt entirely out of his depth, not for the first time today.
Â
Â
Stiffly he shed his clothes, drew on soiled pajamas, and knelt down reluctantly against the side of the bed, having switched off the light. His bony knees resented the floor, his scrotum flamed, his head ached, even his toes were not
comfortable against the inhuman cold parquet. He was ready, and he was not alone (Alas). The damned room was uneasy with pervading, incomprehensible but all-comprehending all-remembering all-penetrating all-foreseeing
Presence.
Alas!
comfortable against the inhuman cold parquet. He was ready, and he was not alone (Alas). The damned room was uneasy with pervading, incomprehensible but all-comprehending all-remembering all-penetrating all-foreseeing
Presence.
Alas!
He did not feel like a fool. He felt pinned: on his mark, get set.
Severance did not know much about prayer, and he knew it (he thought). Anyway he was no good at it. Off and on, fifteen years before, studying a translated selection from the
Philokalia
ordered from Blackwell's in Oxford, he had used the Jesus Prayer, so he had inklings of the heights above him and the depths below him. But now that he was praying every nightâfive now, six?âhe confined himself to the Lord's Prayer, as recommended by Christ (âAfter this fashion pray ye'), for fear of making mistakes, and frankly it wore him out. Six weeks ago in Mexico City, passing an old sunken church on Madero, his mind brimmed with wishes, and he went in and said or prayed the Lord's Prayer. By the time he had finished, half or three-quarters of an hour later, he found that all the topics were taken care of. Encouraged by this luck or providence, he did sometimes allow extraneous prayer-wishes to flash through the main business, but on the whole he concentrated with his whole power, and Severance when he wanted to had a mind as simple as a hydraulic press.
Philokalia
ordered from Blackwell's in Oxford, he had used the Jesus Prayer, so he had inklings of the heights above him and the depths below him. But now that he was praying every nightâfive now, six?âhe confined himself to the Lord's Prayer, as recommended by Christ (âAfter this fashion pray ye'), for fear of making mistakes, and frankly it wore him out. Six weeks ago in Mexico City, passing an old sunken church on Madero, his mind brimmed with wishes, and he went in and said or prayed the Lord's Prayer. By the time he had finished, half or three-quarters of an hour later, he found that all the topics were taken care of. Encouraged by this luck or providence, he did sometimes allow extraneous prayer-wishes to flash through the main business, but on the whole he concentrated with his whole power, and Severance when he wanted to had a mind as simple as a hydraulic press.
âIn the name,' he said mentally, âof God the Father' (no doubt about
Him
) âand of the Son' (amazing, God-inspired, unique, whether a special Son who knew?) âand of the Holy Ghost' (not clear, far from clear, Pentecost scene misunderstood by Luke unrecoverable) âAmen' (Let itâthis prayerâbe established) joining his palms and fingers flat as he had done every bedtime until he was twelve years old.
Him
) âand of the Son' (amazing, God-inspired, unique, whether a special Son who knew?) âand of the Holy Ghost' (not clear, far from clear, Pentecost scene misunderstood by Luke unrecoverable) âAmen' (Let itâthis prayerâbe established) joining his palms and fingers flat as he had done every bedtime until he was twelve years old.
âOur Father' (fact, and Christ's father, âmy father and your father') âwho art in Heaven' (wherever that may be)
âhallowed be thy name' (no associations except Shaddai, Yahweh, Adonai etc., the clause meant nothing to him, only: Aweful). âThy kingdom come.' He came as usual to a full stop, having noticed it once in the AV.
When
was the point. Be it soon. Image of the drummer's flushed face, yellow shoes, in the club-car of his first midwest express streaming through the prairies: they had bought each other drinks and were discussing religion: drummer a member of the Open Bible Church, headquarters in Des Moines and London, hadn't tried to convert him, talk of Second Coming, sense of adventism in the drummer, finally asked without malice just when he thought, heard, âWell, we think any day now,' say Tuesday next at one twenty-seven. The sense fades out from the later Epistles. We can hope, though. I hope. Let all this horror here and in Asia, and our causing it, cease, let me in particular not suffer any more pride lust greed rage self-loathing despair, Your Honour. âKingdom': not the hid treasure or the pearl of great price but the lucky find! the risking
all!
to have
one
thingâChrist to Martha, his gentle and inexorable reproof defending Mary. Wise Mary, the better part. It: sobriety, and a decent end. Maybe years of work first, they didn't bulk for him at the moment. âcome.' âThy will be done'
by me
(the only words in Shakespeare's hand, closing the willâexcept the British Museum Ms.) this afternoon, at last. Contract. âon earth' (that's here in my cortex, as in Bahrein) âas it is in heaven' (wherever that may be âin the Local Group or behind some quasar, if quasars had backs). âGive us this day our daily bread' (I'm ashamed, as You know, of this money, when others are starving, half my engineer friends out of work, help Dale, help Harmon, Andy, help my brother, forgive me, I didn't ask for it, it just came, I was poor until lately, I turned down wealth at twenty-one as You know, I do support Mother besides David, I lend money or rather
give
it, forgive me) âand forgive us our trespasses' (he was too tired
to go over them, maybe a dozen vanities and attacking Edith were worst, He was irremediably familiar with them anyway) âas we forgive those who trespass against us' (off the hook! by great rare luck he had no enemies, unless the old Dean, who had first lost all power over him and then been forced to resignâlong forgiven, though admittedly long
hated,
Severance had even been sorry for his humiliation). âAnd lead us not into temptation' (The Masters, the Brass Rail, the Bedford, only threats really in the city, and all airports, insolende, pretty tits and eyes and asses, outrageous demands by mail and telephone, getting better about these) âbut deliver us from evil' (all these, everything characteristic and inappropriateâChange my life). He paused, worn, aching. Trouble with final rubric. As a cradle Catholic (a truly
disgusting
expression, like âlet it all hang out' âimage of testicles dangling through zippers) he could not get used to it. Also, what the
hell
was the point of reminding the Lord of the Lord's power (obvious in every kinked corner of the finite but unbounded Universe) and glory (whatever that wasâwith all his Francophile passion he spat on gloire)âstill the streaked clouds showed forth His glory and the great seas His powerâokay: âFor thine is the kingdom' (no sweat there) âthe power and the glory, for ever and ever' (that is to say, not sempiternally, as per Augustine, but in an infinite series of uninterrupted microseconds, Thomistic instants, no doubt about it). âAmen.' (Forgive me this lousy prayer, as usual; tired, Lord, for no reason and with no excuse. If there was anything good in the dayâsurely there was!âhis spirits pricked upâthank You).
âhallowed be thy name' (no associations except Shaddai, Yahweh, Adonai etc., the clause meant nothing to him, only: Aweful). âThy kingdom come.' He came as usual to a full stop, having noticed it once in the AV.
When
was the point. Be it soon. Image of the drummer's flushed face, yellow shoes, in the club-car of his first midwest express streaming through the prairies: they had bought each other drinks and were discussing religion: drummer a member of the Open Bible Church, headquarters in Des Moines and London, hadn't tried to convert him, talk of Second Coming, sense of adventism in the drummer, finally asked without malice just when he thought, heard, âWell, we think any day now,' say Tuesday next at one twenty-seven. The sense fades out from the later Epistles. We can hope, though. I hope. Let all this horror here and in Asia, and our causing it, cease, let me in particular not suffer any more pride lust greed rage self-loathing despair, Your Honour. âKingdom': not the hid treasure or the pearl of great price but the lucky find! the risking
all!
to have
one
thingâChrist to Martha, his gentle and inexorable reproof defending Mary. Wise Mary, the better part. It: sobriety, and a decent end. Maybe years of work first, they didn't bulk for him at the moment. âcome.' âThy will be done'
by me
(the only words in Shakespeare's hand, closing the willâexcept the British Museum Ms.) this afternoon, at last. Contract. âon earth' (that's here in my cortex, as in Bahrein) âas it is in heaven' (wherever that may be âin the Local Group or behind some quasar, if quasars had backs). âGive us this day our daily bread' (I'm ashamed, as You know, of this money, when others are starving, half my engineer friends out of work, help Dale, help Harmon, Andy, help my brother, forgive me, I didn't ask for it, it just came, I was poor until lately, I turned down wealth at twenty-one as You know, I do support Mother besides David, I lend money or rather
give
it, forgive me) âand forgive us our trespasses' (he was too tired
to go over them, maybe a dozen vanities and attacking Edith were worst, He was irremediably familiar with them anyway) âas we forgive those who trespass against us' (off the hook! by great rare luck he had no enemies, unless the old Dean, who had first lost all power over him and then been forced to resignâlong forgiven, though admittedly long
hated,
Severance had even been sorry for his humiliation). âAnd lead us not into temptation' (The Masters, the Brass Rail, the Bedford, only threats really in the city, and all airports, insolende, pretty tits and eyes and asses, outrageous demands by mail and telephone, getting better about these) âbut deliver us from evil' (all these, everything characteristic and inappropriateâChange my life). He paused, worn, aching. Trouble with final rubric. As a cradle Catholic (a truly
disgusting
expression, like âlet it all hang out' âimage of testicles dangling through zippers) he could not get used to it. Also, what the
hell
was the point of reminding the Lord of the Lord's power (obvious in every kinked corner of the finite but unbounded Universe) and glory (whatever that wasâwith all his Francophile passion he spat on gloire)âstill the streaked clouds showed forth His glory and the great seas His powerâokay: âFor thine is the kingdom' (no sweat there) âthe power and the glory, for ever and ever' (that is to say, not sempiternally, as per Augustine, but in an infinite series of uninterrupted microseconds, Thomistic instants, no doubt about it). âAmen.' (Forgive me this lousy prayer, as usual; tired, Lord, for no reason and with no excuse. If there was anything good in the dayâsurely there was!âhis spirits pricked upâthank You).
With rapid supplications for Ruth and The Baby and the coming real baby and one of his ex-wives and the mother of his bastard and their daughter who was nothing but a name and an infant-shitting-all-over-him nineteen years ago and the soul of his father, Addressat Unbekannt,
he rose creaking and climbed up on the bed and under the covers.
he rose creaking and climbed up on the bed and under the covers.
He relaxed his shoulders, wrists, fingers one by one, breathed two-one two-one, attended to his stomach, paid no attention to his sphincters, worked mentally on his thighs, the backs of his knees, ankles, toes, as his fiancee's father had taught him in London so long ago. Three or four times, some years, he did this. What were his chances? At one point he had decided he was just doomed to slips âhe could go a week, ten days, even two weeks, then he drank. One Wednesday evening in August Dr Rome had mentioned for contempt and laughter (will hiss me to my knell) the man who had âonly had nine slips in two years! âI
love
the Programme.' Everybody laughed. Severance did not laugh. With six or seven slips in two
months,
he felt a young-brotherly and horrid admiration. The guy was trying. He wasn't drinking himself to death. âUntil next time.' But with its ten billion nerve cells and incredible pathways, what stability could be
expected
of the cortex, in its endless destruction and replacement, not to speak of alcohol affecting oxygen-glucose processesââquicksilver' Luther called the heart of manâan ignorant agreement of biology and theology: give him a prohibition and he'll disobey it,
blaming
not only somebody else but God Himself (âthe woman
thou
gavest me') ⦠his tired thought reeled and his scrotum hurt. The irresistible descent, for the person incomprehensibly (and how many working on it? one of the three worst problems) determined. Relief drinking occasional then constant, increase in alcohol tolerance, first blackouts, surreptitious drinking, growing dependence, urgency of
first
drinks, guilt spreading, unable to bear discussion of the problem, blackout crescendo, failure of ability to stop along with others (the evening really begins after you leave the party, âmy soul ran in the night, and ceased not: my soul refused to be comforted'), support-excuses,
grandiose and aggressive behaviour, remorse without respite, controls fail, resolutions fail,
decline of other interests,
avoidance of wife and friends and colleagues, work troubles, irrational resentments, inability to eat, erosion of the ordinary will, tremor and sweating, out-of-bed-in-the-morning drinks,
decrease
in alcohol tolerance, physical deterioration, long drunks, injuries, moral deterioration, impaired and deluded thinking, low bars and witless cronies, indefinable fears (terror of the telephone, for meânever mind
who,
menace, out of the house!), formless plans along with incapacity to initiate action, obsession with drinking, conformance to it of the entire life-style,
beyond
the alibi-system, despair, hallucinationsâah! he knew every abyss of it, as he drifted off. Something white jerked in some dream, a red figure receded (a woman?), a Vivaldi rallentando was audible off right, just audible. Turn the goddamn volume up will you. He slept.
love
the Programme.' Everybody laughed. Severance did not laugh. With six or seven slips in two
months,
he felt a young-brotherly and horrid admiration. The guy was trying. He wasn't drinking himself to death. âUntil next time.' But with its ten billion nerve cells and incredible pathways, what stability could be
expected
of the cortex, in its endless destruction and replacement, not to speak of alcohol affecting oxygen-glucose processesââquicksilver' Luther called the heart of manâan ignorant agreement of biology and theology: give him a prohibition and he'll disobey it,
blaming
not only somebody else but God Himself (âthe woman
thou
gavest me') ⦠his tired thought reeled and his scrotum hurt. The irresistible descent, for the person incomprehensibly (and how many working on it? one of the three worst problems) determined. Relief drinking occasional then constant, increase in alcohol tolerance, first blackouts, surreptitious drinking, growing dependence, urgency of
first
drinks, guilt spreading, unable to bear discussion of the problem, blackout crescendo, failure of ability to stop along with others (the evening really begins after you leave the party, âmy soul ran in the night, and ceased not: my soul refused to be comforted'), support-excuses,
grandiose and aggressive behaviour, remorse without respite, controls fail, resolutions fail,
decline of other interests,
avoidance of wife and friends and colleagues, work troubles, irrational resentments, inability to eat, erosion of the ordinary will, tremor and sweating, out-of-bed-in-the-morning drinks,
decrease
in alcohol tolerance, physical deterioration, long drunks, injuries, moral deterioration, impaired and deluded thinking, low bars and witless cronies, indefinable fears (terror of the telephone, for meânever mind
who,
menace, out of the house!), formless plans along with incapacity to initiate action, obsession with drinking, conformance to it of the entire life-style,
beyond
the alibi-system, despair, hallucinationsâah! he knew every abyss of it, as he drifted off. Something white jerked in some dream, a red figure receded (a woman?), a Vivaldi rallentando was audible off right, just audible. Turn the goddamn volume up will you. He slept.
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