Frolic of His Own (77 page)

—Is it gold?

—Is, it what. Is what gold.

The car veered again as she glanced down, her hands tight on the wheel and the sun catching the perspiration beading her lip. —You could sell it, she said. —You could sell it and buy something.

—Sell it! His hand closed tighter as though it were being wrenched from him —it was my, I told you, it was my grandfather's I used to, when he put on his evening clothes he used to let me change it from his suit to that black waistcoat with the quilted buttons and and, and sell it? What could I ever buy to replace that! the only thing I've got left in this whole
terrible, this whole sad story, the only one who ever really cared for me and . . .

—You could buy me a nice watch, she said in a voice as hard and level as the road ahead.

—You? he gasped, —buy you?

—With a gold band.

—But how can you say, but I never heard anything so, so cold blooded and sel . . .

—And selfish! You want to hear somebody cold blooded and selfish Oscar you better just listen to yourself. That's all you can talk about is yourself, Jesus Christ! I mean yourself and your father he's dead and your grandfather he's dead and this raw deal you got on this play you wrote about this war that happened a thousand years ago that's like some sickness where everybody's been nursing you through it till we all catch it and the whole house is like living in this hospital out of the past, it's the past all of it's the past! All of it's . . .

—God listen, slow down, you're driving too fast we'll be . . .

—All of it! with an extra burst of speed bearing down on the white station wagon carrying four nuns and the license
HAIL MARY
a mile a minute before them —while you sit there like you're ready to cry clinging onto this old watch like it's some magic charm and these ashes you're saving up there in that coffee can? All of it, all of it should have gone right in the grave where it belongs with that messenger we should have put on the plane for the other side before it was too late.

—Who do you, what do you mean too late we're rid of him aren't we?

—I mean Jesus Christ Oscar who do you think I mean! the sun glistening on her trembling lip, on her open throat looking up to the rearview mirror, surging ahead, —who the hell do you think!

—No but, yes but listen, we don't even know what happened, she didn't tell us did she? Maybe she, maybe there's some misunderstanding, all she talked about was his sisters how awful Harry's sisters are when I asked her, she wouldn't just leave them alone in their apartment like that if he, if something like that happened would she? when all she could talk about was this Masha using her cosmetics and look out! both his hands seizing the dashboard —you're too close! you're, listen do you want me to drive? you're . . .

—Did you see her Oscar? did you look at her? I mean did you really look at her? walking in there like some zombie sitting there staring at us don't you know what somebody looks like in a state of shock? don't you ever go to the movies? I mean look at me, do you ever look at me? her own eyes flashing back to the rearview mirror as the traffic grew heavier with the end of the divider streaming before them, behind them, toward
them and past in a blur of speed —do you! With Daddy going in for this big cancer operation with this sleazeball Reverend Bobby Joe fucking me out of every cent with this cancer I've got right here in my breast you think is just some plaything how am I supposed to pay for that if I've got it! her eyes fixed on the mirror now —oh this bastard, this bastard.

—God Lily listen slow down, you're . . .

—With Al out there in the woods trying to shoot down that shit Kevin screwing my girlfriend from long lines look at him! this bastard behind me he keeps trying to pass me look at him! her hands on the wheel white across the knuckles —bastard look at him. Snap your seatbelt.

—Well good God let him pass! his own hand gripping the dash as he looked back at the glare of sunlight on the windshield and the flared nostril snout of the BMW almost within reach —let him! as with no more torque at the wheel than she might have used straightening a picture, righting a teacup, the image coming up behind them veered from sight and was gone in a shearing crash as she swerved for the exit.

—Just don't say it! her voice hoarse with calm before words could shape the sound clogging his throat, sweat glistening on her forehead and her lips clenched tight as her hands on the wheel guiding them now at the pace of a Sunday afternoon drive past brown aprons of lawn and Chic's Auto Body, chain link and post and rail, Dunkin' Donuts, Fred's Foto and used car pennants to draw up unobtrusively among the shopping carts littering the R Dan Snively Memorial Parking Lot.

—What are we doing here?

—She said to pick up some food didn't she? Give me some money.

—But we can wait till we're . . .

—Just give me some money! and he watched her brisk walk toward the sliding doors slumped there in the silence, the watch moist in the grip of his hand, until it was broken by the distant whine of police sirens coming nearer, coming from all directions, closing his eyes to the screech of an ambulance, opening them wide with confusion at the bustle of grocery bags and the slam of the car's door as she came in beside him and threaded the way back out to the street past Jim's Place, Clips ‘n Grooms, Laundr-o-Mat, Biggie's Hideaway, pink flamingos and a plastic madonna in the hideaway blue of an upended bathtub on brown aprons of lawn till he could safely ask —Don't you want me to drive? confident of her scornful silence gliding boldly into the traffic stream on the highway pursued like a distant echo by the howl of an ambulance rapidly overflowing in a burst of flashing lights as it took shape bearing down like the Furies to scream past in a tumult of light and noise —God! do you think anybody . . .

—I said don't say it, Oscar. Reach in the top of that bag back there will you? reaching her own unseeing hand to bring the radio to life with an
opening chord of Bruckner, to take what he handed her and tear open the cellophane wrap with her teeth, —the sun got in my eyes, okay? she said biting into the Hostess Twinkie, her eyes dead ahead, chewing slowly to the soaring cadences of his ninth symphony which, even in its unfinished state, carried them all the way to the road off the highway, to the byroad, to the gate past
STRANGERS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO ENTER
without another word between them until she turned, climbing the veranda steps emptyhanded to say —and bring in the newspaper will you? pointing a foot at it there and leaving the doors open for him struggling with the groceries behind her.

—What do you mean happened to notice them!

—Oh! I thought you're upstairs sleeping.

—I'm on the phone with these, these vultures, make some tea will you Lily? Norrie? I said what do you mean she happened to notice them, she wouldn't happen to notice them unless she'd been digging through his shirt drawer would she? What does she . . . well my God if she thinks they'd suit Leo she can go out and buy him some can't she? and tell her I know every single one of Harry's neckties and I don't . . . No! I mean my God they're cashmere, how do you know they wouldn't fit Oscar you've never even met him! meant to ask me what? Of course I left suddenly I thought you were both right behind me, what does she . . . Well my God I certainly do mind Norrie! I mean there are hotels all over town aren't there? What does she . . . I don't know! I don't know whether I'm going to keep it or not I mean it's not really your business is it? Who? who did, what . . . well she has no business talking to him about all that, put her on the phone where is she, she . . . then call her out of the bathroom! what in God's name makes her think I won't need my cosmetics I'm still alive aren't I? Put her on the, Masha? what did . . . No, she just told me Bill Peyton called what did he . . . Well God damn it Masha he has no business discussing that with you! You don't know a damn thing about Harry's health or his . . . because I made the decision! It's what he wanted and I made the decision my God I'm his wife aren't I? It was his . . . no I have not seen the paper and I don't like the implication that I . . . of course he had one, of course I've seen it we drew it up together and . . . why! What do they think is in it! Tell Leo and your father they can read it when it's probated and it becomes a public document everybody can read it, now I'd . . . No. No I'd just like you both to leave right now and make sure the door locks behind you, and don't . . . what? Hello? oh that bitch! she slammed it down and sat staring at him. —What's all that.

—It's just groceries, we stopped and . . .

—Well you're not going to leave them in the middle of the living room floor are you?

—No, no I just put them down to . . .

—You look like hell, Oscar. Have you been drinking?

—Have I, now? but it's still . . .

—Where in God's name have you been.

—Well we, you know, we just took him to the airport and . . .

—That bitch! She just happened to notice those Turnbull and Asser shirts going through every drawer in the place, she can go out and buy some for Leo herself can't she? What in God's name I thought I was doing walking out and leaving them there I thought they were right behind me, would I mind if Masha stays there tonight she doesn't get to New York often and wants to get in some shopping, my God don't they have stores in Cleveland?

—It's awfully hot in here Christina, you don't mind if I turn down the . . .

—Thank God Lily here, put it down here will you? and as the cup came down trembling —you look pale, are you all right?

—I'm just, I'm okay.

—It tastes a little, did you put something in it?

—I put some whisky in it.

—I think it's just relief Christina, finally having him out of here it's been quite a, quite a relief not starting the day with a game show we've been . . .

—What in God's name are you talking about, is that the paper? today's paper?

—I just brought it in yes, it's . . .

—Well give it to me! and will you get those damn groceries out of here as I asked you? tearing through the pages —in the entertainment section where is it, that sweet tone of hers as though he'd just won a medal, have you seen this morning's paper? with that edge to it sounding like we both really knew I'd poisoned him for the insurance money and had him cremated to hide the, no. My, my God no! the paper gone down in a heap and the teacup smashed to the floor before they could reach her.

—Christina here, let me . . .

—I'm all right! she broke free straightening up, straightening the page—it's the, it's just the picture I've never seen it he looks, he almost looks like somebody I never, who I never . . . she cleared her throat sharply —well there, you see? It's Bachrach, it's back when he first made partner they send them to Bachrach for the, to impress their clients I'm sorry Lily, have you seen my bag? There are some tissues in it.

—No but listen Christina you don't have to read it now, you . . .

—Why can't I read it now! I mean I, those vultures have read it haven't they? everybody else has read it? A prominent member of the New York bar and a senior partner in the prestigious law firm Swyne and they got right in there didn't they, that's Bill Peyton getting the firm right in the
first line, the cause of death was not disclosed though he had reportedly been in ill health recently where did they get that. Where in God's name did they get that.

—No listen Christina, try to . . .

—Did they call here? did they call me? I'm his wife aren't I? They got his age right at least, Mister Lutz was born in Chicago where his father, an early innovator in the textile industry cutthroat operator would be more like it, went on to make a fortune in the home furnishing business where he expected his son to follow and where did they dig this up, conduct resulting in his dismissal from a series of Ivy League colleges and a brush with divinity school combined with his consuming interest in poetry, which his father condemned as an unprofitable vocation for ‘sissies,' led to an irreparable breach between them which never my God, I mean he never told me that's what they fought over you can leave that Lily, I'll clean it up later.

—Sit still. Just move your foot.

—his interest in the law inspired by a growing sense of injustice which he later ascribed to his reading of Dickens, whom he had taken up with a view to becoming a novelist if you can imagine that, Harry a novelist?

—There's nothing strange about that Christina, every young . . .

—Move your foot, Oscar.

—after working his way through law school and serving with a number of small public interest law firms became increasingly disillusioned with the law as an instrument of justice and this is more like him, yes, to regard it as a vehicle for imposing order on the unruly universe depicted by Dickens that's more like Harry isn't it, what he saw all around him, initiating his rapid climb in the complex field of corporate law where his talent for . . .

—No but wait Christina, all this part about working his way through law school and his father's . . .

—And while you're out there Lily would you mind bringing me another cup I'll try to be more careful, to his recent appointment as the youngest senior partner in the century old history of the blue ribbon firm Swyne and here comes Bill Peyton of course, a little commercial for the firm like that carnival barker breaking in with his cure for acid stomach, where managing partner William T B Peyton labeled his recent successful efforts in resolving the legal battles between the Pepsi-Cola interests and the Episcopal Church of America, which have run into the tens of millions of dollars over a decade, as the most brilliant bringing to bear of fundamental constitutional issues in the age old conflict between free enterprise America and the pills, the whisky, runins with the firm's psychiatrist and a car accident thrown in he doesn't mention all that does he? just what
they got off his resume and a nice sales pitch for that blue ribbon conspiracy of thieves?