Frolic of His Own (63 page)

—I've looked at it Christina. That's why I'm getting a secretary.

—That's ridiculous, Lily can read can't she? You can open an envelope can't you Lily? doing so herself, —the National Speakers Association invites you to join our panel of distinguished Americans who are in constant
demand for speaking engagements and God help us, I hope you've learned that lesson, what you need is a wastebasket. As a high achiever who appreciates the finer things in life, you are invited to join a select circle of . . .

—Will you just stop standing there and tearing things up? There might be something important.

—A pre-approved credit line with a string of Handichecks for your immediate convenience, do you need a secretary simply to throw things away? What we need is a housekeeper, loading those two on that bus for the Bronx was the happiest day of my life. You can boil a lobster can't you Lily, after that revolting trout we deserve something civilized, I mean what we need is a cook. Now, with a sweep of her emptied hand —will you clean up all that before I lose my mind? All that, before a bottle of Chablis smoothed their way for the lobster, butter running down his thumb onto the white tablecloth, before the light and the aerator were installed and the plants submerged in the tank, before another delivery brought more bills and anonymous personalized invitations and a script indecently titled from a playwriting hopeful thirsting for production and before another rushed a lone angelfish in a plasticized transparency to take up residence among the water sprite and Ludwigia and wavering fronds of Spatterdock enveloped in silence and the eerie illumination neither day nor night, spooky was the word for it as his hand glided over her breasts, now could he feel it? in a whisper, the lump there? because it seemed to have moved, as his hand did preoccupied elsewhere, as hers did now filling with promise abruptly kept with a gasp and a shudder echoed in a moan before he rose from her unsteadily to find the stairs in the dark with the stealth of a schoolboy, all that before the night winds rose with a moaning echo down the chimney blowing in a new day.

Tea, and toast, —and this, she said, holding out the shred of something, —it was on the floor in there.

—Well what is it.

—Those mittens, he chewed up those dumb magic mittens.

—Well my God don't tell Oscar, I'd forgot all about him. Where is he, have you looked for him?

—He's usually under something. Pookie? trailing her voice down the hall, peering under things, and on into the kitchen where —it must have choked, discovered rigid behind the kitchen stove —right where I keep seeing this mouse. She's never even called.

—She will Lily. She will.

And when, eventually, she did, —Who? No this is Lily . . . Oh hi, sure I remember, that day you came out here with that big picnic and that man
with the . . . with a little white dog? No, I . . . Oh. Oh, well maybe if you advertise in the paper, they . . . No I just thought if he was worth a lot maybe somebody kidnaped him and . . .

—Here, give me that. Trish? what . . . oh. Oh what a shame . . . No I, but he, I mean he must be around somewhere, he . . . and you're sure you didn't take him to Aspen? Maybe he's right there at Bunker's, I mean you ought to have another look before you call in private detectives he, he might be under something, maybe Jerry . . . Oh. Oh my God . . . about losing his job yes but why in God's name is he angry at Oscar, I mean . . . No that's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard, he hasn't spoken to his father in ages and . . . but . . . No, but . . . Trish it's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard it's absolutely paranoid, he's . . . I said he's more than just a little bit crazy, that show he put on out here breaking Oscar's bones you were here Trish, you were right here and . . . Who, Oscar? now wait a . . . Wait just a minute Trish! Of course Oscar's a bit eccentric but for you to use a word like . . . Certainly not! and I don't want to hear another . . . Well I'm sure you'll find it, just keep looking under things! and their eyes met the moment she hung up, holding each other's steadily until she said —what did you do with it.

—I threw it in the pond.

And she sat there simply tapping her foot until the tight line of her lips broke with —Well. Here's the mad poet himself.

—Was that call for me?

—It was not.

—No but listen, I'm expecting a call from . . .

—I just said it was not didn't I! My God, putting up with this nonsense day after day, your friend Jerry thinks there's a conspiracy. He thinks Father wrote the brief for your appeal, it was much too clever and thorough for the young country lawyer who showed up there in the appeals court so he checked and found he was from Father's jurisdiction and the whole thing turns into a conspiracy, I mean isn't that what paranoia is simply all about?

—But what do you mean, it turns into a conspiracy. That day he came out here and we talked about my play and the . . .

—Between you and Father! He thinks you think the way he would, he's giving you credit for being much more cunning than you really are that's why he's outraged, because you took him in, because you put one over on him pretending you didn't know anything about it when you'd already gone to Father for help and you and Father set up the whole thing.

—But I, it never occurred to me, I . . .

—And why didn't it! Marching around here with your magic mittens and the whole, I told you to call him didn't I?

—But I still don't see what the, why did he call you, why would Mudpye call you and make up something like . . .

—Did I say that? You don't listen, did I say he'd called me? Trish called, it was Trish more muddled than ever babbling away with a drink or two because dear Jerry lost the appeal and is losing his bonus and may lose his job till I had to hang up, babbling on about appeals and briefs she doesn't know a brief from a, from a banana it's all nonsense. It's all perfect nonsense.

—But maybe, listen Christina maybe Harry can find out what it's all about couldn't he? Can you call him and . . .

—My God if he was in town do you think I'd be sitting here with you two? He's in a motel up in Westchester standing by at these idiotic conferences doing exactly nothing but running up the client's billings and . . .

—Listen . . .

—propping up Bill Peyton in the cocktail lounge with some topless . . .

—I said listen! Will you listen to me? can't you see what happened? that he did it himself, can't you see? That Father exploded when he got hold of that lower court decision and tore their case to pieces in a brief he sent some local lawyer up here to the appeals court with? He didn't even, there didn't have to be any conspiracy he just did it! God that's what he's like isn't it? He doesn't conspire he doesn't have to conspire with anybody even with me, I told you he'd read it didn't I? my play, I always knew he'd really read it but never told me, he never really told me anything even when I, when he knew I was digging in the chair cushions for change that fell out of his pockets, I know he knew but he never said anything and that made it worse, I'd just see him looking at me sometimes like he did that terrible day with the birch tree and that made it worse listen, listen I've got to call him. I've got to call him I, how badly I . . .

—Oscar wait, will you just sit down and try to think it through before you do anything? But he was already up punching numbers, spilling the phone, muttering broken syllables into it and finally standing there intent, his shoulders fallen hanging it up. —Why don't you sit down and make sure of the number while you . . .

—Of course it was the right number, after all these years? It was just some, his law clerk's out sick and that was some bailiff or something, he's in court, he's on the bench says this loafer and just hangs up before I can leave a message, it was always like that. Even when I'd leave a message I never knew if Father got it, even back then when I'd call and call I never knew if he heard me and now, and now . . .

—And now will you please just sit still and try to collect yourself? I mean after all you're just guessing aren't you? Will you wait till you can
find out what really happened? wait till Harry's turned loose and can take time to get it all straight before you . . .

—But I've waited! Waiting on Harry waiting on Sam I thought it was some lawyer of Sam's but then Harry said no, no that's what's so terrible I've waited! Mudpye and Harry and Sam and, yes and Basie all of them with some patched up ideas while Father's been there standing by me all the time! He's kept his faith in me when I'd lost mine in him and, and the things I've said, a lot on his plate of course he's got a lot on his plate when I thought he'd turned his back on me because I wasn't worth his, because I wasn't, I wasn't was I! his face gone suddenly buried in his hands —God I, I'm just so ashamed.

—Oscar . . . both of them at once, but he broke away from their hands on him, one on a wrist, one seized on a quivering shoulder,

—Listen! We'll get it produced. Did I tell you? I didn't tell you did I, in yesterday's paper this project of his has fallen through, the School for Scandal because Nipples wanted to use the English actor from the London production they'd called splendid and unforgettable over there but American Actors' Equity said he was too obscure to merit a work permit for Broadway and he'd have to use an American actor so he quit, he just canceled the whole thing that means he's free! That means the biggest director in the whole English speaking theatre and with his name we won't have any trouble renting a theatre and getting it produced, that's a nice irony isn't it? Mudpye himself out here telling me it should be up there on the stage just the way I wrote it before they turned it into that cheap parody on the screen?

—Cheap? And what makes you think the backers for this classic English revival will put their money into some Civil War hodgepodge by somebody they've never . . .

—We don't need them! We don't need their money Christina and don't call it a hodgepodge! I can put up the backing myself can't I? All those dreams I had of taking Father to opening night, we talked about it once remember? when I told you why I wrote it in the first place? why I wanted to do something that would please him, that would make him proud of me sitting there together on opening night the way I wrote it celebrating our history and Grandfather getting to the heart of everything we, of everything and all this time, all this time he's had more faith than I have and now I can make it up, all my miserable doubts in him I can atone for all of it, this whole glorious production up there on the stage with Quantness and the stars glittering over the battlefield for Bagby's soliloquy at the second act curtain, with a Giulielma who's not some slut but the desolate girl the way I wrote her all of it, all of it the way I wrote it and the prison scene in the last act, Kane in prison in the last act not some
Jewish peddler but man's whole shattered conscience, the moral imperative the way I wrote him before they stole it, all the profits! That's the irony, that's the delicious irony, the profits from this revolting travesty backing this whole real spectacle of justice and war and destiny and human passion, not the passion of a gang rape or . . .

—Speaking of delicious irony, what are we doing about dinner.

—What do you, Christina I'm talking about something!

—So am I Oscar. I mean my God it's turning into a lecture, it's a shame you can't see the movie yourself and join that panel of distinguished Americans in constant demand for speaking engagements to ladies' clubs in Des Moines on the corruption of lust and language and true human passion in a movie you haven't even seen?

—I don't have to see it! I'm talking about the passion of ideas not her hands down there unbuttoning his trousers making a man of him, the passion of the whole riddle of human existence and . . .

—So are they Oscar.

—And why can't I see it, I told you I'm getting a car didn't I? a new car? If it's not showing out here we can drive into town and see it, Harry's not there we can all stay at your place while I look up John Nipples and . . .

—You can't stay there Oscar, Harry may be through any day and you can't see the movie, neither can your ladies in Des Moines, nobody can.

—What do you mean, it's the biggest box office success in . . .

—The injunction against exhibitors distributors Kiester and all of them from showing it till this mess is . . .

—What injunction, what . . .

—Your injunction Oscar. You got all the profits you also got an injunction against showing it till this whole mess is cleaned up.

—But the, wait what about my, if it's not showing anywhere what about my profits!

—Exactly. Now why don't you sit down and collect yourself before you ride off in all directions renting theatres and buying new cars till you know what you're doing, get things straightened out with Father. That's what you've been carrying on about isn't it?

—Yes and Oscar it's not the money anyway is it, it's like Daddy coming up here for us to get reconciled after everything got all screwed up with these misunderstandings where everything just kept getting worse like you and your daddy and maybe even he and Daddy could get together and we could all have this wonderful recon . . .

—Lily will you be still! Not about money my God, I mean you're as bad as he is, all this handwringing and tears and carrying on about atonement and getting reconciled while he's standing here trying to reconcile all the profits and you're whining about that insurance on the death instrument
the day tragedy struck of course it's about money! That's all it's about, that's all anything's about, now we've got that small roasting chicken haven't we? It ought to go in the oven unless we all plan to starve to death here nibbling the crumbs of Oscar's delicious immortality, destiny and passion and the riddle of human existence what we need is a cook.