The Anatomy Lesson (24 page)

“
Because it isn
’
t like you
’
re
taking a six-month sabbatical.
It
’
s a big investment of time and money. For a man of forty without real demonstrable qualifications, with an unscientific mind, it
’
s just going to be too arduous.
”

“
I can do it.
”

“
Okay—let
’
s say you even manage to, which I doubt. By the time you
’
re worth anything you
’
re going to be damn near fifty. You
’
ll have plenty of companionship, but you
’
ll have no recognition, and how the hell are you going to like that when you
’
re fifty?
”

“
I
’
ll love it.
”

“
Bullshit.
”

“
You
’
re wrong.
I
had the recognition. I had the public. In the end it doesn
’
t do anything to the public, but to me it did plenty. I sentenced myself to house arrest. Bobby, I have no desire to confess or to be taken for a confessor, and (hat was mostly where their interest got stuck. It wasn
’
t literary fame, it was sexual fame, and sexual fame stinks. No, I
’
ll be content to give that up. The most enviable genius in literary history is the guy who invented alphabet soup: nobody knows who he is. There
’
s nothing more wearing than having to go around pretending to be the author of one
’
s own books—except pretending not to be.
”

“
What about money, if you think you don
’
t need recognition?
”

“
I made money. Plenty of money. A lot of money and a lot of embarrassment, and I don
’
t need any more of either.
”

“
Well, you
’
ll have plenty of money, minus what it
’
s going to cost you to go to medical school and to live for ten years. You haven
’
t sold me on the idea that you want to be a doctor or ought to be a doctor, and you
’
re not going to sell the admissions committee.
”

“
What about my grades? All those A
’
s, damn it. Nineteen-fifties As!
”

“
Zuck, as a faculty member of this institution I
’
m quite touched to learn that you
’
re still hung up on bringing home all those A
’
s. But I have to tell you, we don
’
t even look at anything that isn
’
t an A. The problem is which A we take. And we
’
re not going to take an A just because we
’
ve got a writer who doesn
’
t want to be alone anymore with his typewriter and is sick of screwing his girl friends. This might be a nice out for you from what you
’
re doing, but we
’
ve got a doctor shortage in this country and only so many medical-school openings, et cetera and so forth. If I were the dean that
’
s what I
’
d tell you. I wouldn
’
t want
to have to be the one to explain your case to the board of trustees. Not the way you
’
ve explained it. and not with you looking like this. Have you had a good physical lately?
”

“
I
’
ve been traveling, that
’
s all.
”

“
For more than three hours, from the sound of it.
”

Bobby
’
s phone rang.
“
Dr. Freytag … What
’
s the matter? … Come on, pull yourself together. Calm down. Nothing has happened to him… Dad, I don
’
t know where he is either… He
’
s not dead—he
’
s out… Look, come to the hospital and wait in my office. We can go to the Chinese place… Then watch TV and I
’
ll be home at eight and make us some spaghetti… I don
’
t care what Gregory eats… I know he
’
s a beautiful, wonderful boy. but i happen not to care any longer whether he eats or not. Don
’
t sit there waiting for Gregory. You
’
re driving yourself nuts with Gregory. Look, you know who
’
s here, sitting across from my desk? My old roommate Zuck … Nathan. Nathan Zuckerman
.
.. Here, I
’
ll put him on.
”
He handed the phone across the desk.
“
My old man. Say hello.
”

“
Mr. Freytag—it
’
s Nathan Zuckerman. How are you?
”

“
Oh, not so good today. Not good at all. I lost my wife. I lost my Julie.
”
He began to cry.

“
I heard that. I
’
m terribly sorry. Bobby told me.
”

“
Forty-five years, wonderful years, and now my Julie
’
s gone. She
’
s in the cemetery. How can that be? A cemetery where you can
’
t even leave a flower or someone will steal it. Look, tell Bobby—is he still there? Did he go out?
”

“
He
’
s here.
”

“
Tell him, please. I forgot to tell him—I have to go there tomorrow. I must go out to the cemetery before it snows.
”

Zuckerman passed the phone over to Bobby.

“
What is it? , .. No. Gregory can
’
t take you out. Dad. Gregory can
’
t take the garbage out. We
’
re lucky we got him to give up a
morning
for the funeral… I know he
’
s a wonderful boy, but you can
’
t… What?… Sure, just a minute.
”
To Zuckerman he said,
“
He wants to say something to you.
”

“
Yes? Mr. Freytag?
”

“
Zuck. Zuck—it just now dawned on me. I
’
m sorry. I
’
m in a terrible state of confusion. Joel Kupperman—remember? I used to call you Joel Kupperman. the Quiz Kid.
”

“
That
’
s right.
”

“
Sure, you had all the answers.
”

“
I
’
ll bet
I
did.
”

“
Sure, you and Bobby with your studies. What students you boys were! I was telling Gregory just this morning how his father used to sit at that table and study. He
’
s a good boy, Zuck. He just needs direction. We are not losing that boy! We made a Bobby, we can make another Bobby. And if
”
I have to do it singte
-
handed I will. Zuck, quick. Bob again, before I forget.
”

The phone back over to Bobby.

“
Yes. Dad … Dad, tell him one more time how much I loved my homework and the kid
’
ll knife us both … You
’
ll get to the cemetery … I understand tha
t
. I
’
ll take care of it… I
’
ll be home around eight… Dad, live with it—he is not coming home for dinner just because you
’
d like him to … Because he
often
doesn
’
t come home for dinner… I don
’
t know where, but he
’
ll eat something. I
’
m sure. I
’
ll be home at eight. Just watch the TV till I get there. I
’
ll see you in a few hours…
”

Bobby had been through it lately. Divorce from a depressive wife, contempt from a recalcitrant eighteen-year-old son. responsibility for
a bereaved seventy-two-year-old father who filled him with infinite tenderness and infinite exasperation; also, since the divorce, sole responsibility for the son. Because of a severe case of mumps in late adolescence, Bobby could father no children, and Gregory had been adopted while Bobby was still a medical student. To raise an infant then had been an enormous burden, but his young wife was impatient to begin a family, and Bobby had been an earnest and dutiful young man. Of course his parents doted on Gregory from the moment the newborn child arrived.
“
Everybody doted on him—and what
’
s come of him? Nothing.
”

The voice, weary with loathing, attested more to Bobby
’
s suffering than to the hardening of his heart. It clearly wasn
’
t easy to kilt the last of his love for t
he thoughtless brat. Zuck
erman
’
s own father had had to feel himself leaving life before
he
could finally face disowning a son.
“
He
’
s ignorant, he
’
s lazy, he
’
s selfish. A shiny little American consumer. His friends are nobodies, nothings, the kids they make the car commercials for. All they talk about is how to be millionaires before they
’
re twenty-five—without working, of course. Imagine, when we were in the college, somebody saying
“
millionaire
”
with awe. I hear him rattling off the names of the titans in the rock business and
I
want to wring his neck. I didn
’
t think it could happen, but with his feet up and his bottle
of Bud, watching a doubleheader
on TV, he
’
s even made me hate the White Sox. If I didn
’
t see Gregory for another twenty years I
’
d be perfectly happy, But he
’
s a fucking freeloader and it looks like I
’
ll have him forever. He
’
s supposed to be enrolled at some college downtown and I don
’
t even think he knows which one. He tells me he doesn
’
t go because he can
’
t find a place to park. I ask him to do something and he tells me to eat shit and that he
’
s leaving to live with his mother and never coming back because I
’
m such a demanding prick.
‘
Go, Greg,
’
I say,
‘
drive up tonight and I
’
ll pay for the gas.
’
But she
’
s in freezing Wisconsin and sort of screwy, and the louts he knows all hang out down here, and so next thing I know is that instead of leaving home and never coming back he
’
s screwing some little twat in his room. He
’
s a honey, Gregory. The morning after my mother died, when I told him his grandfather was coming to stay with us until he was better, he hit the ceiling.
‘
Grandpa
here
?
How can Grandpa come here? If Grandpa moves in here, where am I going to fuck Marie? I
’
m asking a serious question.
Tell
me. Her house? With her whole family watching?
’
This is twelve hours after my mother had dropped dead. I
’
d been at their place all night with my old man. They
’
d set up the card table in the living room and were starting their game of gin, just the two of them. Suddenly my mother puts down her hand.
‘
I don
’
t want to play anymore,
’
she says. Her head goes back, and that
’
s it. Massive coronary. Now he
’
s with us until the worst is over. Gregory goes out to start the night just when my father
’
s in his pajamas watching the ten o
’
clock news.
“
Where
’
s he going at this hour? Where are you going, bubeleh, at ten o
’
clock at night?
’
The kid thinks he
’
s hearing Swahili. I say,
‘
Dad, forget it.
’
‘
But if he
’
s first going out ten at night, what time is he coming home?
’
I tell him that those are questions that exceed all understanding—you have to have the brain of an Ann Landers to answer those questions. Sad business. He
’
s facing the truth about bubeleh, and just when he
’
s least prepared. Bubeleh turns out to be a con man and a bullshit artist who can
’
t even be bothered to go out to the corner to get a quart of milk for Grandpa
’
s cornflakes. It
’
s been rough to watch. We
’
ve been together these last three weeks the way we were when I was a kid working in the store. Only now he
’
s the kid. The mother dies, the old father becomes the son
’
s son. We watch the Watergate news together. We eat dinner together. I make breakfast for him in the morning before I go to the hospital. I stop on the way home to get the chocolate-covered cookies
that he likes. Before he goes to bed, I give him two with a Valium and a warm glass of milk. The night my mother died I stayed there and slept with him in their bed. During the day, during the first week, he came and sat at my desk while I was down in surgery. He told my secretary about the handbag business. Every day he sa
t
in my office and read the paper for four hours until I came up from the operating room and took him down to the cafeteria for lunch. Nothing like a father
’
s defense
lessness to bring you to your knees. It
’
s why I can
’
t forgive that fucking kid. The vulnerability of this old guy and it leaves him absolutely cold. I know he
’
s only eighteen. But
.to
callous?
So
blind? Even at eight it would stink. But that
’
s how it worked out, and there we are. I
’
ve been so busy with my old man I haven
’
t even had time to think about my mother. That
’
ll come later, I suppose. What
’
s it like for you, without them? I stil
l
remember your folks and your kid brother when they all came out to visit on the train.
”