Honeymooners A Cautionary Tale (24 page)

Oh my God, Alice Ann said,
and batted her eyes, am I on television or what? Is this
live?

You are being broadcast live
at this very moment, Susy Citizen. Please answer the question,
please. Ordinary human life everywhere is waiting for your answer
about Ralph Crawford’s vision. Keep in mind you are speaking for
ordinary human life everywhere.

I hope I can rise to this
occasion, Alice Ann said. —Well, since you asked me, I think Ralph
Crawford’s vision is huge and terrifying. Just like on occasion
his boner. Here, listen to this one, she said, and read from the
back of the book: “Ralph Crawford’s vision is somber and resolute,
and the cumulative effect is powerful.”

Somber as a toothache, Ralph
said. —And why not? After all I’ve been through. Well, I’ll tell
you what I’m resolute about right now. I’m resolute about sucking
another Screwdriver, that’s what. Can I stir you up another huge,
terrifying Bloody Mary, my dear?

Only if it’s extraordinary
in its vodka, so that its cumulative effect is powerful.

You name it, you got it.
That Bloody Mary is in the mail, Ralph said, and stood up. Then
Ralph sat back down. He lit a cigarette. Ralph placed his hand on
the stack of books. —Alice Ann, do you know what these are? These
are my babies. Our babies, hon. And they don't talk back or jump me
by surprise or pull disappearing acts. They'll take care of me in
my old age, these babies will. These babies are our tickets into
the future, Alice Ann.

God, Ralph, Alice Ann said.
—I don't know what I want to do the most right now. Fuck you or
fight you.

Well, what's wrong with a
little of both? Ralph said, and wiggled his eyebrows.

Alice Ann opened a book and
read from it silently.

I remember the exact moment
you finished this story, Ralph.

Which story?

The one about me selling the
convertible just before we went bankrupt the first time.

These stories aren’t really
about us, Alice Ann.

I remember you were writing
in bed, and God, it was almost dawn. I had to get up and go to
work, and you had kept me awake all night wiggling around, but I
didn’t say anything, Ralph. You were smoking like a stove and
jiggling your feet like you do and muttering under your breath. But
I didn’t say anything.

I don’t remember
that.

Then you started shouting,
Hot dog, hot dog, hot dog! Then you shook my shoulder like I was
asleep or something and insisted I sit up and read it on the spot.
Then you insisted on a flick. No, it was a blowjob you wanted. Then
you insisted on three eggs over easy, pancakes, your little link
sausages, your glass of orange juice with a splash of vodka, your
strong black coffee with three sugars, some leftover coffee cake
heated up, and then another blowjob there at the kitchen
table.

I don’t remember any of
that, Ralph said, and laughed. —Really? Where were we? What were we
doing then?

We were living in
Sacramento, Ralph. In that horrible trailer park. I was working as
a secretary in that insurance office. You were just collecting
unemployment. Something like seventy bucks a week. You weren’t even
looking for work, but that was okay. You were writing so well. That
was what was important to me. That was all that mattered to
me.

Well, Ralph said, and patted
a book, it has paid off, Alice Ann.

I remember every single
draft of every single story in this book, Alice Ann said. She
thumbed slowly through the pages of a book. —I know these stories
by heart. And I know the stories behind the stories by heart,
too.

Well, I’ll admit I’m no
elephant in the memory department, Ralph said. —I don’t have memory
one. But thank God for that, I say.

You never needed a memory,
Ralph. You’ve always had my memory to rely on.

I use my imagination, Ralph
said. —I’ve always counted on my imagination.

Remember this one? Alice Ann
said as she scanned the table of contents. —When I was waitressing
in that diner up in Humbolt, and you’d come in and hang around. And
you’d get upset, but turned on, too, when those men would ogle
me.

Whatever you say, Ralph
said, and lit a cigarette.

Okay, sweetie, who do we
call first? Alice Ann said, and closed the book. She scanned the
blurbs on the back again. —Who do we call up and read what Cynthia
Ozick has to say to? “There is something rock hard and unafraid
about Ralph Crawford’s fiction,” says Cynthia, God love her. Call
somebody, Ralph. Who do we call first?

I’d like to call old Jim, I
guess, Ralph said.

I don’t know. I don’t know
yet, Ralph.

Somebody has to break the
ice. Sooner or later.

I know. I miss Jim, too. Let
me get a little drunk first. Do you understand?

Sure. Sure I do. Maybe
later. You know, though, we have to sooner or later. Maybe today is
the day. But a little later. Let’s get a little drunk first. You’re
dead right about that. Let’s get a few drinks under our belts
first. Hey, let’s call the Buffalo. These blurbs will break
Buffalo’s heart. God, he’ll stay drunk for a month, Ralph said, and
laughed. —“Rock hard and unafraid.” Jesus. Buffalo will shit a
brick.

But you are, Ralph, Alice
Ann said and took one of Ralph’s hands, you are a very brave
artist. And you are a brave man, too.

Even in the worst of times
I’ve thought that. You are a survivor, Ralph. And so am
I.

But rock hard and unafraid,
Ralph said, and laughed.

You’re just a little
paranoid today, that’s all, Ralph. Don’t ever sell yourself short,
sweetie, Alice Ann said, and she polished off the bottle of vodka
evenly into the crystal glasses. —Here, make a final toast,
sweetie. Then I’ll throw some clothes on and run up to the pop shop
and get us a magnum of serious champagne.

You make the toast, Ralph
said. —You do it.

Okay. To you, honey. To
Ralph Crawford, a great American author.

No, to you, Ralph said. —To
Alice Ann Crawford. Without whom I couldn’t have accomplished all
that I have. Without whom I would have been chopped liver a long
time ago.

To us, sweetie. And our
book.

Okay, Ralph said.

To being rock hard and
unafraid, Alice Ann said, and raised her glass. —To us and our book
and to our fresh start and our future.

Here, here, Ralph
said.

They touched glasses and
drank the warm vodka down. And then Alice Ann laughed, and she
sailed the crystal glass against the wall above the
sink.

Jesus Christ! Ralph yelled,
and dropped to his knees on the floor. —Alice Ann!

For luck, Alice Ann said,
laughing. —We’ll show the future what’s what.

Alice Ann, Ralph said, and
got up and walked over to the sink. He picked up a shard of
crystal. —These glasses cost an arm and a leg, Alice Ann. Who do
you think we are? The Rockefellers or something?

Oh come on, Ralph. For luck.
Let’s fly into the future with a flair. We’ll be the Scott and
Zelda of our day. Fitzgerald would toss his glass against a wall
for luck in a heartbeat.

Well, maybe he would. But I
won’t. Not when they cost an arm and a leg, I won’t, Ralph said,
and sat down at the table.

Ralph gripped his glass with
both hands in case Alice Ann got any more ideas. Ralph looked up
past Alice Ann to the doorway, where his daughter stood leaning
against its frame.

That was pretty far-out,
Mom, Ralph’s daughter said. —Why’s the radio blaring like
that?

God! Alice Ann said, and
whipped around. —Where have you been? Do you even care about what
you have put me through?

This is Paco, Ralph’s
daughter said, and nodded to a tall Chicano boy who stepped into
the doorway behind her. The sleeves of his black T-shirt were
rolled high on his muscular, tattooed arms. He wore motorcycle
boots and a thick chain for a belt, and his hair exploded off his
head like a mushroom of fur. —Paco is my new old man, Ralph’s
daughter said, and leaned back into him.

What’s happening, man? Paco
said, and shot a finger of greeting at Ralph, who flinched. Paco
put his thick arms around the slender waist of Ralph’s daughter and
spread the fingers of one hand over her bare stomach.

Uh, Paco, Ralph mumbled, and
pressed his empty glass against his lips. Ralph stared at a huge
dog, which for all the world looked to him like the worst wolf of
his worst nightmare, which appeared in the doorway beside Paco and
began to growl.

This is Paco’s dog Killer,
Ralph’s daughter said. —Don’t sweat it. Killer is cool.

Honey, where have you been?
Alice Ann said. —Why did you do this to me?

Me and Paco have just been,
you know, around. Hey, Dad, it would be so cool if you threw your
glass against the wall and busted it like Mom did. Wouldn’t it,
Paco?

I could dig it, Paco said,
and nibbled at Ralph’s daughter’s neck.

Isn’t this party a little
early in the day? Ralph’s daughter said. —Even for you
guys.

Copies of my book came in
the mail, Ralph said, and gestured vaguely at the stack of books on
the table. —Your mom and I were just doing a little, you know,
celebrating, that’s all.

Having a little toast or
two.

You have no idea, do you?
Alice Ann said to her daughter. —You just don’t care about what you
put me through, do you?

Look, what would be real
cool is for somebody to explain why my cats are locked up in the
car trunk, huh, Dad? They’re going nuts out there!

What? Alice Ann
said.

Could you clue me in as to
why my cats are locked up in the trunk, huh, Dad?

Ralph? Alice Ann said, and
looked at Ralph.

The vet, Ralph said. —I was
going to take them to, you know, get their shots.

Sure, Dad! I’m totally
pissed off about this, Dad, man! Ralph’s daughter said. Killer
began to growl again. —I think this is a real fucking bummer, Dad,
man!

Ralph? Alice Ann
said.

Ralph tossed the crystal
glass over his shoulder and braced himself.

The Shadow in the Open Door of the
Future

1

Ralph balanced six of the
ten beautiful books on the dining-room table, edge on edge, into a
three, two, one pyramid. He arranged the remaining four copies in a
semicircle before the glorious pyramid. He walked back and forth
by the table smoking and looking at the pyramid from every angle.
Now and then, at different distances, Ralph would stop abruptly
and stare at the display of books as though seeing them in a
bookstore window for the first time in his life.

Ralph took up a book and
once again read the jacket copy and blurbs on the back. Rock hard
and unafraid, Ralph read and chuckled. He stared at his picture on
the inside cover. He peered into his photographed eyes. What had he
done the moment before that picture was snapped? The moment after?
What had he been thinking the moment the picture was taken? Ralph
closed his right eye, as though taking aim, and looked deeply into
those photographed eyes. He opened his right eye and shut his left
and looked again. Ralph blinked his eyes rapidly.

Ralph walked into the
kitchen to fix a little pick-me-up. At the kitchen door he glanced
back over his shoulder down the dark hallway to the gleaming
pyramid of beautiful books. As he ran warm water over an ice tray,
Ralph gazed out the kitchen window. A cigarette dangled from his
lips, and he squinted his eyes in its rising smoke. Paco's
partially disassembled Harley was in the driveway. That had been
part of the settlement with his daughter. Ralph's daughter was to
give up six of the dozen cats, any immediate idea of getting a
heap of her own, and make a promise not to get that
skull-and-crossbones tattooed above her right breast, in return for
Paco getting to work on his Harley in the driveway and sleep over.
Ralph shut his right eye and gazed at the Harley. There were parts
and tools scattered about it, and pools of oil shone like greasy
little lakes of rainbows on the pavement. Ralph opened his right
eye and shut his left. He blinked his eyes rapidly. Ralph shut both
his eyes and let the warm water run over the backs of his
hands.