Read Outside the Dog Museum Online
Authors: Jonathan Carroll
Outside the Dog Museum (33 page)
The day before the Saru contingent was due to descend, Claire left without telling me. I returned to the room after a morning meeting and there was a note on the desk propped against a vase holding a single red rose.
“I owe you more of these for ruining yours the other day. I’m sorry to chicken out, but I can’t be here now with you, my dear. I’m going to Vienna and will stay there until after Fanny leaves. Then we can see how we feel and talk about what to do. I keep saying to myself, ‘Forgive him,’ but then I realize I don’t want to forgive you, I want to love you. Since I can’t do either now, I’ll go and be alone in a pretty
city and hopefully clean out my cluttered head. I’ll call when I get there and tell you where I’m staying.”
city and hopefully clean out my cluttered head. I’ll call when I get there and tell you where I’m staying.”
Although it surprised and hurt me, on the one hand I was glad she’d made the decision. She deserved my full attention, but I couldn’t give it to her until the formidable Neville had come and I’d had it out with
that
bitch. Actually, now that I knew what had happened between her and Claire, I didn’t think of Fanny as a bitch so much as a … . No, I thought she was a bitch. A fang-addered, holier-than-thou, backstabbing bitch who hadn’t gotten the world’s best deal from me, granted, but did
not
have the right to repay me by trying to pump venom into the arteries of my life. She was a bitch all right and would get hers. Naturally I had a plan.
that
bitch. Actually, now that I knew what had happened between her and Claire, I didn’t think of Fanny as a bitch so much as a … . No, I thought she was a bitch. A fang-addered, holier-than-thou, backstabbing bitch who hadn’t gotten the world’s best deal from me, granted, but did
not
have the right to repay me by trying to pump venom into the arteries of my life. She was a bitch all right and would get hers. Naturally I had a plan.
I wasn’t at the small airport in nearby Schuttdorf to greet the royal duo when their helicopter came in. I was back in the hotel room asleep, having an entertaining dream about buying Mormon literature. Palm said my absence was an embarrassment for people who didn’t deserve to be embarrassed.
At the reception that night, held at the Sultan’s
Schloss,
half of the western part of Austria seemed to be in attendance, so it was not until I’d milled around for an hour that I saw or talked to either of them.
Schloss,
half of the western part of Austria seemed to be in attendance, so it was not until I’d milled around for an hour that I saw or talked to either of them.
Both wore black. Way on the other side of the room talking to a bunch of attentive politicos, Hassan stood in a silky double-breasted suit that made him look taller and older. Nearer to me, Fanny had on a billowing silk blouse and slacks, and a pomegranate red belt. Were women in Saru allowed to wear such slinky garb? What happened if mere mortals lusted after the Sultan’s wife? Furious as I was, it pleased me to undress her in my mind and remember what she was like in the sack. I’d seen her asleep. Heard her pee. Watched as she stood in front of a mirror and patrolled her face for blemishes. She was mean but vulnerable. I knew what she’d done came of caring
deeply for me but not getting what she wanted in return. Now I’d give her exactly what she had wanted, but too late. It was no longer hers to touch. When we made eye contact I was the one who went up first.
deeply for me but not getting what she wanted in return. Now I’d give her exactly what she had wanted, but too late. It was no longer hers to touch. When we made eye contact I was the one who went up first.
“Hello there.”
“Hello, Harry.” Her eyes were a complete meteorological station of dials, meters, and wind socks programmed to read the weather in me, and between us. I gave her enough time to take a first measurement: (1) He came up; (2) he looks friendly; (3) he hasn’t tried to kill me.
I knew what she was expecting—a hundred-megaton Radcliffe blast, or at the very least, gale force winds that would blow her back to Saru. What she got instead was Harry Radcliffe at his indisputable best. Gentlemanly, witty as only I could be witty, but most important—
kind.
I “kinded” her right out of the room. I could go into detail and quote what I said/she said/I said to show what I mean, but suffice it to say Fanny Neville never knew me to be so gosh darned wonderful. From the first minute, I could see it was driving her crazy. When she asked if Claire had arrived, I said yes and how important a talk we’d had in light of their recent conversation. When she pumped me on who said what, I lied like a car dealer and brilliantly made it sound like Claire and I and our love had all had epiphanies/insights/ breakthroughs galore because of that momentous chat between the two women. But I did it so smartly, and underplayed things so well, that even the hyperperceptive Fanny didn’t see the wool being pulled over her eyes. The trick was not to smooth it over. Sure, Fanny’s exposing my badness had caused a crisis, shouting and tears. Sure, we’d come close to breaking up. Sure this, sure that, but in the end we realized there was a great sturdy bond between us that, though shaken violently, had revealed itself to be so much stronger than either of us had thought. How fundamentally we cared!
kind.
I “kinded” her right out of the room. I could go into detail and quote what I said/she said/I said to show what I mean, but suffice it to say Fanny Neville never knew me to be so gosh darned wonderful. From the first minute, I could see it was driving her crazy. When she asked if Claire had arrived, I said yes and how important a talk we’d had in light of their recent conversation. When she pumped me on who said what, I lied like a car dealer and brilliantly made it sound like Claire and I and our love had all had epiphanies/insights/ breakthroughs galore because of that momentous chat between the two women. But I did it so smartly, and underplayed things so well, that even the hyperperceptive Fanny didn’t see the wool being pulled over her eyes. The trick was not to smooth it over. Sure, Fanny’s exposing my badness had caused a crisis, shouting and tears. Sure, we’d come close to breaking up. Sure this, sure that, but in the end we realized there was a great sturdy bond between us that, though shaken violently, had revealed itself to be so much stronger than either of us had thought. How fundamentally we cared!
What Fanny saw was the Radcliffe she’d always wanted—as a direct result of her trying to ruin him. He was much the same man,
only better now because of her shameful, unnecessary act. By being a small, tattling rat, she had helped Claire and me to find the mother lode in our relationship.
only better now because of her shameful, unnecessary act. By being a small, tattling rat, she had helped Claire and me to find the mother lode in our relationship.
I had a part two of my revenge plan but put it on hold after seeing the result of part one that night. After fifteen minutes of intense conversation, surrounded the whole time by peeking, sneering, snooping people from the reception, I could see the damage seeping through to Fanny. When finally she asked why Claire wasn’t there that night, I looked her in the eye and said, “She went to Vienna. She left because she needs time away to think whether she wants to stay with me or not. It’s very possible she won’t, Fanny.”
“Even after all you worked through? I thought everything was all right.”
“Everything is
understood.
It’s not all right.” I took a breath to say more, but found I couldn’t. Because I was telling the pure truth and was terribly afraid I would now lose Claire because of the old me—a me I could no longer stand.
He
had done these things to her. The same Radcliffe bullshitting Fanny right now into believing her contemptible behavior had been such a help to us. You might never see her again! In her note she’d said let’s talk after Fanny leaves, not let’s see each other! I wanted to rush off and call Claire, beg her not to leave. To give me even half a chance to try to do it right. I was glad I’d used my Saru wish to get her a hand, but if I had that wish again, I’d ask for another chance with Claire, because nothing was more important than another chance with her. Any kind of chance.
understood.
It’s not all right.” I took a breath to say more, but found I couldn’t. Because I was telling the pure truth and was terribly afraid I would now lose Claire because of the old me—a me I could no longer stand.
He
had done these things to her. The same Radcliffe bullshitting Fanny right now into believing her contemptible behavior had been such a help to us. You might never see her again! In her note she’d said let’s talk after Fanny leaves, not let’s see each other! I wanted to rush off and call Claire, beg her not to leave. To give me even half a chance to try to do it right. I was glad I’d used my Saru wish to get her a hand, but if I had that wish again, I’d ask for another chance with Claire, because nothing was more important than another chance with her. Any kind of chance.
I looked at Fanny and felt dizzy. I touched my head to still it. I was hyperventilating badly and couldn’t stop. Be calm. Excusing myself, I walked quickly away to find a bathroom where I filled the sink with cold water and stuck my whole head down into it as deep as it would go. I might lose Claire! I probably had. Call her immediately. No, leave her alone and let her work it out for herself. Beg her. Don’t bother her. Crawl. Don’t call.
I pulled my head up from the water, gasping, dropped it in again. Call Vienna. Don’t you dare.
My head up again, I looked in the mirror over the sink. My face dripped and shone. I was panting. “You win, Fanny. You win.”
ONE LAST STORY BEFORE
I finish. Philip Strayhorn and I were having dinner at Venasque’s house one night. The subject had turned naturally and comfortably to the many different ways there were to die. I was not so far away from my days of madness, and normally talk of death made me jittery. But these two men, particularly together, made even the land of no return an intriguing place to hear about. Strayhorn, who knew something about everything, told us how in the Middle Ages executions were quite formal, absorbing events. Often the condemned would get up on the platform, his final podium, and give a stirring speech to the crowd. He told them how worried he was for their souls and how he’d arrived at this pitiful place himself. Beware, folks, don’t follow my path or you’ll end up here. The crowd loved hearing these last-minute autobiographies while the doomed had his last earthly moment of camaraderie with those who’d come to see him die: We’re all in this together and the only trick I’ve learned, brothers and sisters, is do not do it my way.
I finish. Philip Strayhorn and I were having dinner at Venasque’s house one night. The subject had turned naturally and comfortably to the many different ways there were to die. I was not so far away from my days of madness, and normally talk of death made me jittery. But these two men, particularly together, made even the land of no return an intriguing place to hear about. Strayhorn, who knew something about everything, told us how in the Middle Ages executions were quite formal, absorbing events. Often the condemned would get up on the platform, his final podium, and give a stirring speech to the crowd. He told them how worried he was for their souls and how he’d arrived at this pitiful place himself. Beware, folks, don’t follow my path or you’ll end up here. The crowd loved hearing these last-minute autobiographies while the doomed had his last earthly moment of camaraderie with those who’d come to see him die: We’re all in this together and the only trick I’ve learned, brothers and sisters, is do not do it my way.
Venasque spoke while finishing the last bit of spicy potato salad on his plate. “Harry did that once.”
Shoveling in pastrami on rye, I almost missed my cue. “Say what?”
“That was you. You got up once and gave a terrific speech and then they cut your head off. One of the only times in your whole history you ever admitted to being wrong.”
I looked at Strayhorn. “When was this, Venasque?”
“Oh, in France, before the revolution. They got you for stealing a priest’s pig.”
“A priest’s pig?”
“That’s right. Who wants another pickle?”
“How much ‘before’ the revolution?”
“Don’t worry about that, Harry. Listen to what I said between the lines that you didn’t happen to read. I said it was one of the few times in your history that you admitted to being wrong. Hint hint, darling.”
I LOATHE OOMPAH BANDS
. Fat guys marching pompously around in Tyrolean hats with pheasant feathers leaping goofily off the side. Quasi-fascist, paramilitary loden costumes that look like uniforms, and the
music
they play! What sadist ever thought up that music? What circle of hell has he been committed to?
. Fat guys marching pompously around in Tyrolean hats with pheasant feathers leaping goofily off the side. Quasi-fascist, paramilitary loden costumes that look like uniforms, and the
music
they play! What sadist ever thought up that music? What circle of hell has he been committed to?
There must have been five oompah bands on hand that day. And when they stopped for a breather, Austrian folk groups would come leaping up from some other part of hell to yodel, do ass- and foot-slap routines, howl and prance through dance after traditional Austrian folk dance. In between, a famous television personality served as master of ceremonies and kept up a patter of jokes and comments and a parade of pretty girls in dirndls cut so low you could see their belly buttons. Welcome to the Dog Museum
Dachgleiche.
Actually, it was terrible but not that bad. Once you got used to the fact that the purpose of the whole thing was to get drunk and congratulate anyone nearby, it was nice in a sort of George Grosz way. My only real problem, aside from having to listen to “The Radetzky March” six times, was too often I’d be looking at these people having fun and remember many of the older ones were doing this same cavorting back in the 1930s and ’40s, and then when the festivities were peaking, a guy in a brown uniform would get up and give a ringing speech about Herr Hitler. That realization put a damper on my becoming too involved in the party. But it was fun. The Saruvians drank apple cider and orange juice. Lamb had been brought in for them. Barbecuing lamb and sausage smells filled the air, along with the oiliness of fried potatoes and tartness of new wine and mugs of beer. I have no capacity for alcohol at all, and knew if I had two beers I’d be dead
drunk fast, so I took a glass here, had a sip. Put it down and, wandering on to the next group, took a glass there, sipped … . That way I would be able to make it through the ceremony and what followed in reasonable shape. I also knew if I got drunk I might very well call Vienna and end up saying the wrongest things to Claire. My newest plan was to leave her alone for another day, if I could bear it, then call and tell her how bad off I was and ask if she would please see me, even if she’d already made up her mind to go. That was fair, wasn’t it? I held onto the scheme like a bird with a broken wing: Maybe I could keep it alive with care and concern. Maybe it would heal and fly again if I did things right.
Dachgleiche.
Actually, it was terrible but not that bad. Once you got used to the fact that the purpose of the whole thing was to get drunk and congratulate anyone nearby, it was nice in a sort of George Grosz way. My only real problem, aside from having to listen to “The Radetzky March” six times, was too often I’d be looking at these people having fun and remember many of the older ones were doing this same cavorting back in the 1930s and ’40s, and then when the festivities were peaking, a guy in a brown uniform would get up and give a ringing speech about Herr Hitler. That realization put a damper on my becoming too involved in the party. But it was fun. The Saruvians drank apple cider and orange juice. Lamb had been brought in for them. Barbecuing lamb and sausage smells filled the air, along with the oiliness of fried potatoes and tartness of new wine and mugs of beer. I have no capacity for alcohol at all, and knew if I had two beers I’d be dead
drunk fast, so I took a glass here, had a sip. Put it down and, wandering on to the next group, took a glass there, sipped … . That way I would be able to make it through the ceremony and what followed in reasonable shape. I also knew if I got drunk I might very well call Vienna and end up saying the wrongest things to Claire. My newest plan was to leave her alone for another day, if I could bear it, then call and tell her how bad off I was and ask if she would please see me, even if she’d already made up her mind to go. That was fair, wasn’t it? I held onto the scheme like a bird with a broken wing: Maybe I could keep it alive with care and concern. Maybe it would heal and fly again if I did things right.
I was staggering through a pidgin conversation in German with the
Bundeshauptmann
from Salzburg when Hassan came up, followed by a small army of minions.
Bundeshauptmann
from Salzburg when Hassan came up, followed by a small army of minions.
“We’re very proud of what you’ve done, Radcliffe. I know my father would have liked it.” He put out his hand and we shook firmly. I was the one who broke the clasp. What would he think if I told him it was not only a nice building, but would be the Tower of Babel when completed? Knowing his opinion of me, he’d sigh at my limitless arrogance and walk away. Best to leave it alone and let future events speak for themselves. “Thank you very much. How’re you doing otherwise?”
“Terribly, thank you. I am tired to the bottoms of my feet. But you know, when we have beaten Cthulu I am going to be very happy. Right now, life is not much fun.”
“He sounds pretty unpleasant.”
Hassan lifted his head and scratched his neck. It suddenly dawned on me he was unshaven. “One day last week a briefcase was discovered outside my office. It was full of enough plastic explosive to blow up half the palace. But there was no fuse and no timer, only the explosive. Next to it inside was a note from Cthulu. Handwritten. Do
you know what it said? ‘This is for your children, Hassan. You are already dead.’”
you know what it said? ‘This is for your children, Hassan. You are already dead.’”
“That must have made you feel warm all over.”
“It frightened me, but I am frightened often these days. My father taught me that fear is like food—you eat it and shit it out. Sometimes I am constipated. Sometimes I would rather watch a football game than think about war. Take care of yourself. Oh, and by the way, Fanny told me last night after the reception that you two had talked? She said you were very nice. It seemed to make her sad that you were nice. I found that very interesting.” He gave me a royal wave and walked away with his gang in tow.
My
Bundeshauptmann
zoomed right back in to tell me many things I could only smile and nod knowingly at without knowing a word he was saying. Luckily we were soon called for the ceremony, and I was able to escape with more smiles and a few dozen
Auf Wiedersehen’s.
Only us bigwigs went up to the top of the building to actually put our hands on the tree and be photographed together as one big happy family, Hassan and Fanny in the middle. The real ceremony took place after we’d all descended again and walked over to a hastily erected stage in front of the site.
Bundeshauptmann
zoomed right back in to tell me many things I could only smile and nod knowingly at without knowing a word he was saying. Luckily we were soon called for the ceremony, and I was able to escape with more smiles and a few dozen
Auf Wiedersehen’s.
Only us bigwigs went up to the top of the building to actually put our hands on the tree and be photographed together as one big happy family, Hassan and Fanny in the middle. The real ceremony took place after we’d all descended again and walked over to a hastily erected stage in front of the site.
Anyone who sat up there had to give a speech and when my turn came, I said, “The former Sultan of Saru did two wonderful things for me. First, he was generous enough to save my life during an earthquake. Almost more important he also convinced me to become involved with this project. Although I did not know him well, he is a man I both admire and miss to this day. From what I can understand of him, he was the best kind of human contradiction: a visionary who kept his feet on the ground. A pragmatist who was not afraid to dream and hope. His Majesty, the new Sultan, told me earlier that his father would have liked this building if he’d lived to see it. I can only hope that when our Dog Museum is completed, it will serve the
functions all good museums do, which is to inform, enlighten, and finally to delight.”
functions all good museums do, which is to inform, enlighten, and finally to delight.”
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