A Fairy Tale of New York (21 page)

''Holy cow what kind of perversion is that."

"Come on. Cornelius. Let's go back to my place and screw.''

Climbing into the limozine. Glen turning to give Christian a little salute from the peak of his black cap. Scared I might break his fingers for fooling with Fanny's long languorous legs. Those nice ones you wrap around to go to sleep. Summer makes me want to eat her. The peace and quiet inside this auto. Not to mention the lack of cockroaches. All the familiar little knobs sticking out of the upholstery. Blue and white little bags and boxes. And bigger bags and boxes. With names that say that's my prize I 'm bringing back to my palace.

Driving across Fifty Seventh and Fifth. The tints of color in the passing throngs. Fanning themselves with the cool riches on sale. This morning's sunshine came down the street bright and fresh. Lapping the leaves outside my window where a pair of pigeons were flapping and screwing. And right in the middle of my little moment of beauty some crass fucker stops his car to honk his horn. Till the garbage men came waltzing along. Clanging, clattering and strewing the sidewalk and gutters with a new debris.

Upwards on the elevator. Fanny trembling and licking her lips. A flush creeping up her throat and into her cheeks. Kelly the operator calling after us as we headed out into Fanny's lobby.

''Have a good afternoon.''

Inside palms and bamboo panelling. Wicker tables and chairs. Bowls of floating orchids and orange lanterns.

"Like it Cornelius. I cleaned out all that white shit. What the hell why not go tropical awhile. Makes a nice contrast in the chilly air conditioning.''

On a glass covered bamboo cane table. Stacks of crisp white certificates. In their grey upper corners it says twenty five thousand dollars. On one after another. A sole parchment could change my life. Floated down to me in the struggle. Instead of putting the dimes together in a broken cigar box for an extra dollar. I could get on a train and go somewhere. Swivelling round in my chair in a parlor car. Ordering as many cans of beer as I wanted from the attendant.

''What are you thinking about Cornelius."

"Trains."

"You 're looking at my bonds.''

"Yes."

''Swell aren't they. Fifty in each stack.''

Fanny taking a few steps. Stopping. Turning. To look at me. Potted palms in the corners. A pigeon strolling on a window sill. She falls backwards into the bamboo chair and throws her legs up over the arms. Big dark bruises above her knees.

"Caught you with another cunt. Claw her eyes out I would. And sock her all over the street. Then I'd knee her. Drag her by the hair in the gutter. She 'd have plenty to remember me by.''

Christian crossing the room. On the crackling woven palm leaf carpet. To stand above her as she looks up. Out of her tenderest eyes.

"Anyway, there's some chicken Cornelius. And whiskey. And me. What 'll you have."

"I'll have the bonds."

"Then you better excuse me a second I'm going to put them back in my safe. But if you pour me a snort of booze and take down your pants. To hell with the bonds. I want to see it quiver. Bloop it di bloop. That's sound effects for your pants dropping. Am I glad to have you back here. You made me lonely. You made me blue."

"You kicked me out.''

"I've got to tell you something sometime, Cornelius, do you know that. Strange you should think of trains.''

This shadowy sultry afternoon. The heat rises shimmering over the city. Fanny's windows shut, awnings down. Wrap arms around another in our own little loneliness. In this tropical interior. Tearing and tugging at clothes. The whole world was out there just as it is today, last year. Feeling the merchandise on the counters. Shoplifting and pilfering. What hope for an agonised voice screaming fair play. Even as I stood getting weighed I was abused by the insolent tone of the speak your weight machine. Bound about this time doormen's whistles begin to blow. Ladies go out to lunch. My shirt on the floor collected clean this morning from the Chinaman. Sweating in his hot laundry and cooking smells. Goes tapping each brown package with the little pink slip I gave him. His radio blaring, his wife sitting with her chop sticks over a bowl of rice. My wet dream came last night while I was standing at the corner of Eighty First Street and Park. Miss Musk prancing by in a satiny yellow drum majorette's uniform. Leading a Vine funeral. Her muscles quivering as she stamped each step. Saw me at the side of the road. When I asked her whose funeral, she tapped my prick with her baton. Said, didn't you know. It's yours, lover boy. And Fanny pleads with her eyes. A little girl. Lift her by the hips. Hands under the cheeks of her arse. Kneel with her back again on the floor. She wags her hair. Roll and scream against her throat. To hide awhile. In her limbs. In any cool of hot summer. When you hear shouts of families angry in their kitchens. Someone puts their shoes down hard at night over my head when I try to sleep. Terrible lonely sound. Fanny's taken me back. My city again. Whenever she holds my prick in her oils. Mr How don't be mad at me. I only want to slow the Mott empire down as it goes throbbing ahead. So the collision won't be so big in case it hits a recession. Gives the more lackadaisical of us a chance to swim. Always had this trouble of pulling my weight with the rest of the guys. Loosening my tie, rolling up my sleeves. And pitching in. Sadness struck me early in the midsection. And later in the balls. Makes you stagger confused from one lost opportunity to another. Those bonds. What chance have you got. When the whole damn world is written on paper already. And stacked tip somewhere in a safe. With Fanny whispering. And she says Cornelius, sometimes I feel covered all over in the white milky sap of poisonous sumac. With all my good girlish looks, what a prolonged god damn disaster my life has been. I'm going to go west on a train. Did you know that. Eight through Altoona. Through the Appalachians and all that spooky Pennsylvania. Where they got the hex signs up on the barns. They make you do things in the world because your name might start with a B. And because I was the biggest kid in the class they made me play the cello. I tried to sail in the god damn thing right across a pool in the creek. You never heard such belly aching everybody did when the veneer started to peel off and it all warped into a pretzel. People today sprawled everywhere all over the park. Don't know how damn lucky they are with their lives to live. Even hot as it is. Remember that morning, Cornelius. I brought you breakfast in my tight blue jeans. You said my tits gave you an appetite. And I said I had to go to a board meeting. And I came back and together we went to Brooklyn. Right out across Queens to Bockaway. You were listening to vespers. And where I was, was at the doctors. I don't know if I'll ever know what kind of courage I've got. When you get my hydraulics all horny, I guess I could even pull god by the prick. And I think if I wake up each day punching and fighting. The kind of way you do. When you seem to be able to be somebody when you're nobody at all. I won't let them tell me I'm dying. I didn't let them when they told me they'd have to cut my tits off all those months ago. Spend a fortune on operations. To hell with that shit. But they've scared me to a clinic. West on the train. And out there. I want to go slow. Please will you come. Don't say no. Never let it be the end of us. Marry me. All the colors get dark when the light goes away. And you wonder.

How grey

Is black

When black

Is grey

22

Cornelius Christian spent the heat wave in Fanny's cool apartment. The city's murders mounting to an all time record. Stabbing the most popular method of killing. A few rapes on rooftops. Kelly the doorman delivering a load of delicatessen goodies said it made you wonder what this century was coming to.

The word marry closed doors all over my brain. Staring down into Fanny's face. Asking me to join her in riches and walk with her to her grave. As a little girl she had braces on her teeth and scabs on her knees. She never swam in a lake and loved to swim in the ocean.

One more afternoon missing work and exhausted screwing Fanny, a tropical storm broke. Winds smashing down the street. A restaurant awning floated right by in the air outside the window like a flying machine. Lot of menus say these days your eggs can be styled to choice. Fried on the sidewalk. And sprinkled with rain.

The sheets of water fell. Flooding down the street. Fire department pumping out cellars. Sewers gurgling, washing away all the butts, dog shit and cigarette packs. A voice begging in this city. Out of eyes full of tears. Went downtown in the lull of the storm and bought a grey seersucker suit. Took the subway to Wall Street to look at the stock exchange. My, it was shirt sleeved and busy. Watched a broker oversee a stalemated minor collision between two taxis. He called upon the drivers to assert mannish instincts. To get out of their cars and fight. And he would be glad to referee.

Christian went north again on the Interborough Bapid Transit. The subway air fuming. A man sitting with a smile staring at a girl. Then someone vomited on the floor of the train. At the next station, as the doors opened a black gentleman stood shaking a monstrous prick, said who wants to suck my cock. Chap with glasses and a briefcase gasped, and announced, is there a health hazard here. And the old man next to him looked up and said don't ask me a question I don't know nothing.

Ran as another wave of the storm struck. Some poor blue suited son of a bitch, must have been from Michigan, trying to reach dry land, crossing the street, took a leap and landed up to his watery knees in an excavation hole in the gutter. A taxi driver who saw it threw his head back and laughed and crashed into the back of a bus.

Doorways crammed with folk. A woman saying to another, there wasn't one thrill in the whole evening. And I thrilled Fanny and she put away all her bonds. Said another checkup she had done on Vine found out he hires ex drum majorettes. And she suggested that maybe when they stagger out of his apartment house they can hardly walk to one of his limozines. And at that remark. My hand stiffened to slap her face.

Cross this thronged lobby. Everybody in galoshes. In out of the rain. Foot prints and drips and drops and umbrellas turned inside out by the wind. Up on the elevator. Off with my seersucker. On with my ring regalia. Walk in where all is fair and square on the white mat within the crimson ropes. Busting each other in the jaw. As O'Rourke sits, in his tattered robe, feet crossed up on his desk, the afternoon paper open across his knee.

"Hey what do you know, Cornelius.''

"Hello."

"Haven't seen you for a week or two, champ. What've you been doing."

"Making word formations.''

''That's good. For money.''

"For money."

"That's good."

Christian putting on a pair of black leather mits. Strolling up to the punching bag hanging on a little hook from a ball bearing. Giving it a slam and lightly dancing away around the room. As O 'Rourke turns his tousled head back over his shoulder.

"Hey Cornelius, you think this is a free country.'9

"Sure."

"I was talking to my wife last night. You know how you get into these discussions when you can't sleep. This is pretty personal, this question. You don't mind if I ask you a pretty personal question. Now promise you won't laugh if it seems funny to you."

"I won't laugh."

"Do you think a girl can get pregnant sitting in a bathtub. You know. By someone taking a bath in the same tub before them. Now take your time. I don't need an answer right away, but I told my wife it can't be done. I said it was impossible. That question needs some thought, think it over. Tell me in a few days. I'll live in ignorance awhile. Hey tell me, Cornelius, you got a girl friend now. You know I sort of feel you might be lonely."

"Yes."

''You mean you got one.''

"Yes."

"That's good. Sort of serious question these days, all kidding aside, you need companionship in this city. You take her out and go places."

"Once in awhile."

''Good. You met her around town.''

''Used to know her as a kid before I went to Europe."

"That so. Childhood sweetheart. My wife was my childhood sweetheart. I never got a chance to know anything else. How's the shape."

"Not bad."

"You look good. Hey you know you've created some thinking in this place since you've been back. Been interesting. Everytime you go out of here and the Admiral comes in, he says what's with that guy Christian, he wants to know if you got some grudge. He says you should have stayed in Europe. I sort of told him what happened to you. But he says you're a threat to the United States. You think that's true, Cornelius.''

"Yes."

"What. You mean I'm in the presence of a criminal. Hey get out of here. But seriously Cornelius. Now you tell me. What do you think about a thing like American girls.''

Christian stopping, gloves down, flat footed in his tracks as he aims a blow.

"Whores."

"Hey you can't say a thing like that."

"Why not."

"Because it ain't true. My wife's American. You mean she's a whore. That's what you said to the Admiral, he had a fit. But you know what he says. He says you're right. But he says if he ever gets you in the ring he'll kill you for some of the other things you said. He thinks people like you are an encouragement for the Jews and the Niggers to take over."

"Good."

"Hey what do you mean good. And push the Irish out. Who do you think keeps this city honest. Wait till I tell the Admiral. He'll be in in a few minutes. Going to have his nails manicured. You know, the Admiral's a pretty important guy. Controls the whole harbour of New York. Could be useful. This is some harbour. Nice friendly waterfront where they're putting holes in each other's heads. And what's the Admiral doing. He's in here getting his nails manicured. You think men should have their nails manicured, Cornelius. Maybe since you've been away you think we've become all homosexuals in this country. Hey come on Cornelius, you think we 're all homosexuals in this country.''

"Yes."

''Hey you can't say a thing like that."

"Why not."

"Well it ain't right. That's why. Now I'll tell you right away if I was homosexual how could I have the ten kids I got, now you figure that out. I don't have time to be a homosexual. You see what I mean. I go home, before I have a chance to sit down, the kids are on top of me driving me crazy. I don't even have time to be sexually normal. That's why I was wondering about this thing in the bath, getting pregnant. Now you're an intelligent guy, Cornelius, you answer me that.''

''By the laws of physics, it's possible.''

"By the laws of what. Hey, don't hand me that laws of physics stuff, can she get pregnant or not. You got to tell me because I'm arguing all night with my wife and I can't get any sleep. She even wakes me up to tell me she knows someone who got pregnant sitting in the bath. I say for Christ's sake shut up, it isn't the iceman or the milkman, o k so she got pregnant sitting in the bath, kid's already got a christening.''

"It's possible, that's all I can say.''

"I'm disappointed in you Cornelius. I told my wife if anybody could settle this matter you could. That you knew all about these little bugs and germs. Hey but I hear these English women have no morals at all, what about that. You don't have to marry them. They do it because they like it. Anyway Cornelius you're looking great, still got that nice left hook and right cross. Hey, I got a great idea. You know, the Admiral sees himself as one of the fighting greats. He says with his corkscrew punch he's invincible with one of the most powerful punches around. Now listen. You know how you get his goat. You answer him back. He doesn't like it. He's never heard anybody answer him back for years. Now you know what'd be good. We'll fix it up so you have a round or two. What do you say. I'll even tell him you're Jewish but you're called Christian as a disguise. How about it."

"I 'm masquerading enough as it is."

"It'll really be funny. You fake it. Let him knock you out. Make the Admiral feel good. Come on, now, what about it. You'll be riding around with the Admiral on his yacht.''

"I've taken so many beatings recently in various walks of life, I don't think I 'm up to an artificial one.''

''Look at it for the laughs.''

"I am. It's soul destroying."

O 'Rourke up on his feet. Head cocked, fists displayed. Throwing punches in all directions.

"You go in there Cornelius like as if you're going to kill him. I'll be referee. A few straight lefts in the mouth, not too hard because you might put him down. Get him around the belly. Make him feel he's taking punishment and has got to pull the fight out of the bag."

''Supposing he quits.''

"He won't quit. Not in front of the manicurist.''

''I don't know, I 'm against harmful acts.''

"What's harmful. You call it harmful rejuvenating the Admiral. He keeps the foreigners out of New York and the blacks up in Harlem. What do you want Cornelius, a blood bath in this city. Why is it there's so much honesty on the waterfront these days, it's the Admiral. You owe it to the country Cornelius."

"Thanks. You just said they were shooting each other in the head on the waterfront.''

"But it's honest killing, can't you see the difference, the Admiral keeps it like that. Now watch me. See. A straight left to the Admiral's jaw. Then a right on the belly. Leave yourself open. He throws a counterpunch and you go down. Let him hit you at the end of the round.''

"I think it's against my principles to make anyone a victim like that"

"Hey what do you mean, we're all victims. Hey you used to be one of the toughest little fighters I ever saw around here before you went to Europe. What happened. Even today, you come in here looking sad. Has something got you Cornelius."

"Ok. I'll spar with the Admiral."

"Great."

O'Rourke with his laughing eyes, hands on his hips. As he stares out at Christian. This rocky tongue of land. Stuck out at the world with its big tall taste buds bulging with bullion. It might give you a second to stand up on the stage. Take a bow or jump off a building. An audience one minute who knows you. And boos. And the next minute comes another audience fresh from somewhere who say who the hell is that jumping. And claps if you get killed.

"Hey Cornelius, you know, you've changed. You used to be a wild guy here. Guts enough for an army. Was it those moral values in Europe. That you had to struggle against. You know them English friends you make, always trying to serve you last week's roast beef and the Irish who make believe you're a friend, then try to sell you last year's. All you hear from people coining back is how they got cheated, robbed and gyped. I try to tell them everybody is gyping you, only here they do it right in front of your face."

Door opening. Admiral entering. In a bundle of white bathrobe. A towel wrapped round his neck. His squeaking new boxing shoes. A frown of black eyebrows. As O 'Rourke throws open his arms in greeting.

"Hey it's the Admiral. Champion of white man's rights. What this country needs is to make everybody Irish, isn't that right Admiral. Look, Cornelius Christian's here."

"So I see."

"What's a matter Admiral, Christian's not a bad guy. He's just gone a little liberal. It was that free thinking Europe did it to him."

"Don't talk to me about Europe. I 'm a tax payer.''

''We 're all tax payers Admiral.''

"I don't want my tax money supporting people like him, coming in here. Criticising this country."

"Hey Admiral he only said American women are whores.''

"And it makes me very sad to agree with him.''

"Hear that Cornelius. What the Admiral says. You agree on something. Both of you must be right. Coast to coast the country is crawling with whores. Hey wait a minute. What about my wife. You calling my wife a whore. Hey you can't say that. She's a mother of children.''

"I'm not talking about wives. I'm talking about welfare keeping a bunch of whores on relief in this city, that I pay taxes for."

Admiral presenting his glove to be laced up by O 'Bourke. As Christian spins round from the big creaking body bag into which he sinks punches.

"You deserve to pay taxes."

"Why god damn it, do you pay taxes,''

"I live in limbo."

"That's the kind of smart talk they learn these days. I wouldn't mind having you on one of my ships. God damn free thinking, free fornication.''

"Hey Admiral I'm in command of this sport arena here. Bad language is forbidden.''

"If I had him just one day on one of my ships."

"Hey Cornelius has been in the navy Admiral. Can't you see the cut of his jib. Aweigh all anchors. Secure all bulkheads. Off to the beach fighting amphibians, we sail at break of day. To kick the shit out of the god damn ginzos. Forward with the Irish.''

''God damn trash.''

"What do you mean, Admiral, trash. Christian here says the Jews and the Niggers are taking all the seats on the subways. He says we should burn them in oil. Make room for the Irish.''

''That's the kind of thing I 'd expect him to say.''

"Fight him Admiral, fight him. Use this place the way it's supposed to be used. For the manly sport. The art of self defence."

"I 'm expecting mymanicurist."

"Christian thinks you're a homosexual Admiral. That you got to have your nails beautiful. Why don't you hit him. Besides you should stop using this place like a beauty parlor."

"When you stop using it as a place of business I'll start using it for the manly sport.''